Max had seen new life come into the world before—and it never lost its power to both ache and awe.
However, right now, he needed to set his mind at ease.
“I’ll be right back.” He offered a quick nod before heading toward the back door.
As he stepped outside, the sharp mid-February air hit his exposed skin. Last he’d checked, it was only ten degrees outside. He pulled his collar up to ward off the biting cold.
Snow crunched beneath his boots as he walked along the side of the kennel, his eyes adjusting to the dark. The security lights outside the building cast long shadows across the yard.
The sound reached him again, clearer this time. It almost sounded like . . . metal clanking.
The front gate, he realized. That was how it sounded when it opened and closed. Though people had to have a code to get in, that didn’t mean that trouble hadn’t shown up. It had happened before—more times than Max would like to admit.
Sarah had always liked to say the more resistance you faced meant the harder you had to fight.
His pace quickened.
He rounded the corner in time to see a petite blonde with curly hair standing on this side of the gate. She wore a colorful striped scarf around her neck.
Lyndee Thomas, he realized. She was one of their guests here at Refuge Cove. Her brother had been a fellow soldier with Max in the army and had asked Max to help her.
Most people thought this place was just an animal shelter and boarding facility. But their real mission—theirsecretmission—was that they were a battered women’s shelter. They allowed women to come here with their pets, a restriction at other shelters that often deterred women from fleeing violent relationships. They didn’t want to leave their dog or cat behind.
Very few people in the area knew what they were actually doing here at Refuge Cove. For tax purposes, they’d classified this house as a nonprofit retreat center.
Lyndee’s estranged husband had nearly choked her to death two weeks ago. She’d called Max, and he’d gone that night to pick her up.
Max was usually hands off with the residents. But Lyndee was not only his friend’s sister, but she was also talkative—very talkative. Every time they’d run into each other since she’d been staying here, she’d shared more of her life story. Overshared, really. Max didn’t mind listening. In fact, he preferred it. Staying quiet, letting other people fill the space—that had always come easier to him.
It was safer that way.
If there was one thing he’d learned to recognize over the years, it was when someone was holding on by a thread. That didn’t necessarily make them dangerous. But trauma did hard things to people. It twisted reality, blurred lines, and made reactions bigger than the moment called for.
He knew that better than most.
Memories began to pummel him, memories of a time when he’d stepped in and tried to do the right thing.
But things hadn’t unfolded the way they should have. He’d learned the hard way that doing the right thing didn’t always matter if no one stood beside you when it counted.
He’d learned from experience that when someone talked the way Lyndee did—fast, scattered, circling back to the same things—he listened a little closer.
Max watched Lyndee. Her white toy poodle was tucked against her chest, and she wore a backpack on her shoulders. She appeared to be fumbling with the gate.
He’d bet that neither Caleb King nor his sister Naomi, who both ran this place, knew Lyndee was outside.
Max slowed as he approached the woman. “You going somewhere, Lyndee?”
She flinched and spun toward him. Fear flashed through her gaze before another emotion pushed in behind it. Resolve, maybe. Or desperation.
She held Tinkerbell closer. “Max . . . I didn’t expect to see anyone out here.”
“What are you doing?”
Her gaze wavered. “If you must know, I—I’m leaving. I have that right. This isn’t a prison.”
“Of course. You can leave if you want.” He narrowed his eyes. “However, it isn’t safe to be walking on that road at this time of night. It’s too dark, and there’s no shoulder. It’s dangerous.”
“I’m not going to walk.” Her gaze flicked behind her, past the gate. “I have a ride.”
