Seeking Shelter. Angel Smits
here fast enough. He spun on his heel.
Two pimply-faced guns-for-hire cowered in the doorway. The receptionist seemed more likely to do something. But even she backed out of Jace’s way.
He yanked the fancy glass panel open, wishing it would slam and shatter, but the hydraulics simply made it whisper closed. Stalking away from the receptionist, her flunkies and her empty lobby, he didn’t glance back.
Once outside, he opened the saddlebag and shoved the papers into what little space was left. The envelope of cash stayed nestled close to his chest, feeling heavy, like some type of commitment. Cursing, he closed his eyes and pictured Mac’s familiar, smiling face. Jace couldn’t let his friend down now.
Finding people wasn’t the hard part. Convincing them they wanted to be found was.
Opening his eyes again, Jace let the calm of the day and the familiarity of the bike soothe him. He knew what he had to do. He focused his mind and pulled away from the curb.
Arizona, huh?
He’d never been there.
Looked like that was about to change.
CHAPTER TWO
THE SCREEN AT THE BACK door slammed with a loud thwack. Amy looked up from where she was wiping down the coffee bar to see Katie trudge down the main aisle with her half teddy bear, half husky, Butcher, trotting behind.
“Hi, sweetie. How was your day?”
Katie didn’t respond, simply tossed her backpack to the floor by the coffee bar and headed for the tall stool on the opposite side of the counter. Butcher flopped down at her feet.
The store was quiet this time of day, so Amy could stop what she was doing and focus on her daughter. Amy knew that look, knew not to push. “So, everything okay?” She slowly wiped the counter, all the while watching Katie out of the corner of her eye.
She’d known today would be rough for Katie. Her beloved teacher, Miss Davis, was out on medical leave, and the new teacher started today.
“Yeah.”
That wasn’t much help. Maybe distraction would loosen her up. “Do you want something to drink?”
“Nope.”
Amy sighed again, put her cleaning supplies away and wiped her hands. “What’s up?”
Katie swung her legs and looked down at the scarred surface of the old counter. Her tennis shoes resembled a pendulum swinging back and forth.
She’d chosen to wear her favorite pink jeans and a shirt they’d bought on their last trip into Phoenix. Her blond hair hung in two not-so-neat ponytails that just hit her tiny shoulders.
“Mama?”
“Yeah?”
“How come I don’t have a daddy?”
Amy’s stomach dropped and she swallowed hard. Here we go again. She did not want to get into this conversation, not now, not ever.
Ever since the mother of one of Katie’s schoolmates had gotten remarried, Katie had been obsessed with her own lack of a father. Every time Amy thought they’d moved past it, something brought it back.
She walked around the counter and sat on the matching bar stool beside Katie. She’d have pulled her into her lap and never let her go, but Katie had resisted “being treated like a baby” for some months now.
Katie wasn’t ready to hear the truth—of the man Amy had thought she’d loved, who’d forced himself on her and left her shattered and pregnant. Now he was nothing more than a sperm donor and a piddly monthly check.
“What brought that up?” Amy stared down at her little girl. Katie’s beginnings had been...difficult. Remembering those days always proved painful.
Matt had been so much stronger, and the body that had violated hers had been conditioned by hours of football practice and steroids. She’d never had a chance. Or a choice.
She’d thought about an abortion, but couldn’t do it. When she’d realized she was pregnant, she’d confronted him. What a mistake. He’d laughed and written her a check.
“Thanks for the good time, babe,” he’d said as he tossed it at her and walked away.
She’d decided then—at all of eighteen—that her revenge would be to keep the child. One day he’d change his mind and she’d deny him any connection.
She hadn’t planned on falling so completely and wonderfully in love with the baby. Her baby. But she had, and now Amy had to find a way of giving Katie answers.
“Honey, we’ve talked about this.”
“I know, Mama, but my new teacher had us draw pictures of our family today. I didn’t have a daddy to draw.”
Amy knew she wasn’t the only single parent in the community. “What about Emily?” She mentioned the name of another girl in the class whose mother was single.
Katie frowned. “She drew her dad in Chicago with the new lady. Even Rachel Bishop drew her daddy up on a cloud in heaven.” Katie pouted. “I don’t have anybody to draw. Just a big old empty spot.”
Amy’s heart hurt for her daughter. “Sweetie, we’re all different. It’s a good thing.” She shuddered. If this was so important now, what were Katie’s teen years going to be like? Amy bit back the groan.
“No, it’s not. I don’t want to be different.” If Katie had been standing, she’d have most likely stamped her foot.
“I’m sorry, Katie. I can’t change it. It’s the way things are.” Amy reached over and stroked one of her daughter’s silky ponytails. She silently debated if she should talk to the teacher. What should she say?
Katie didn’t seem satisfied with the answer, which Amy knew really wasn’t one, but she didn’t say anything more, either.
“How about a cookie?” She didn’t normally let Katie have sweets so close to supper, but figured if there was ever a time for sugar therapy, now was it.
“Okay. Long as it’s not one of those homemade ones.” Katie pointed at the glass display on the counter and wrinkled her nose. Butcher sat up eagerly, though.
“Butch likes these.” Amy grinned at Katie. “Don’t you want to share with him?”
“Nope.”
Katie smiled back and Amy felt her heart catch. If only all of life’s problems could be fixed with a simple cookie. She pulled one of the store-bought cookies Katie preferred out of the jar on the back counter.
Halfway through her snack, Katie called to her again. “Mama?”
“Yes?”
“I have a question.”
“I have an answer.” Amy repeated one of her mom’s old quips.
“Mama...” This time Katie drew out the word with a long-suffering sigh and Amy laughed. “I’m serious.”
“Okay.”
“Since I don’t have a daddy now, is it okay if we start looking for one?”
Amy froze and stared at her. “What?” She hadn’t really heard that, had she?
“Can I—we—look for a dad?”
“That’s what I thought you said.” Amy glanced away, staring out the window at the little town they called home. On a good day, Rattlesnake Bend boasted four hundred residents, including the surrounding ranches. If half were male, that’d be a stretch. Single and under the age of fifty? The numbers dwindled even further.
The tension in Amy’s stomach eased. “It’s not like getting a puppy, you know, but, uh, sure, honey.”