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KIDNAPPED BY THE BEAST
A Bear Shifter Romance
Bear Justice MC Book 6
Ruby Knoxx
Copyright © 2020 by Ruby Knoxx.

All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of
the book only. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or
distributed in any printed or electronic form, including recording,
without prior written permission from the publisher, except for brief
quotations in a book review.
Contents
Chapter 1 – Hayjack
Chapter 2 – Sara
Chapter 4 – Sara
Chapter 6 – Sara
Chapter 8 – Sara
Chapter 10 – Sara
Chapter 12 – Sara
Chapter 14 – Sara
About the Author
Books by Ruby Knoxx
There was something pleasant about Pennsylvania, that I

thought I could get used to. I liked the green of it, and that there
were so many people willing to live simply. Of course, we were in
Lancaster county, known for their Amish population, but I could see
why Jandro had decided to at least try it out for a little bit.
The Bear Justice MC, the motorcycle club that Jandro and I
had been inducted into together years ago, camped outside a small
town, resting there for a while until we figured out what we wanted
to do. It was the kind of town where everyone knew each other, and
because they knew each other, they knew us simply because we
weren’t part of them. It didn’t help that we were a group of bikers
adorned in leather and looking as though we were professional
wrestlers on top of it.
I felt Jandro’s absence heavily. He was my right-hand man,
and I was his. We had stuck together for years, ever since the
military. Bonds like that didn’t come around often. I knew that we
weren’t far away from him, but soon, we would be moving on to the
next job, and who knew where that would take us.
I had set up a hammock between two trees in our camp and
was watching the budding branches sway in the slight morning
breeze. The air was warm despite the early hour, a sure sign that
spring was on its way out and summer was paving its way. This
meant that the next few months would be hot weather to endure in
our leather gear while we traveled. Yet despite the heat, I always
enjoyed it.
Summer was my season.
With one foot on the ground, I rocked myself gently, my
hands behind my head, and my eyes watching the blue behind the
green. I wondered if maybe staying in one place for a while wasn’t
such a bad idea. I had somewhat gotten used to it when we were in
the cabin in Colorado for the winter, and despite only having had one
job since, I was beginning to feel tired in my bones. But there was
nowhere worth stopping. I had tried being stationary before, and it
wasn’t for me. All it led to was heartache and the want to move on.
Except, after all of these years, I still didn’t know where the “on”
was that I was moving to.
The only thing that had made sense was the club. The Bear
Justice MC had been the brotherhood I needed after leaving the
military with Jandro. It gave me a reason to keep moving, gave us a
purpose, and made me feel as though I was continuing to do good,
even out of the military.
“Right,” Razzer said, slapping his phone closed. He was still
operating with one of those old phones, the kind that you could snap
shut, throw against a tree, then pick up to make a call again. But
that was Razzer’s style. He was a little old-fashioned, though he
labeled himself as “retro.” I just called him behind the times. “We’ve
got our next job. In good ol’ NYC.”
“New York?” I asked, lifting my head slightly to look at him.
Razzer was already dressed for the most part, at least, his
bottom half was. His black jeans were tucked into this leather boots,
ready to go in a moment’s notice. He was not one to suffer the heat
well, and thus, against my advice, would always just wear a leather
vest without a shirt while we were traveling in the summer. I always
had a level of caution and could just see the damage should he wipe
out. But then again, we were shifters. Any damage to us rarely
lasted long, most of the time anyway.
I had no desire to go to New York. Being around Jandro and
his mate had brought back memories I wasn’t eager to go back to
again.
Except something in me was. There was a part of me that did
want to be in New York, that wanted to find answers, to just know—
It’s in the past, Hayjack, I thought. Forget it.
“What’s the job?” Gordy asked.
“Neighborhood watch,” Razzer replied. “A collective.”
“Bout time we did something for the little guys,” Tex said. “I
don’t mind working for big money. They’ve got better pay. But it’s
nice to do something for communities.”
“Hey,” Razzer said pointing a finger at him, “we always do
things for the communities. Whenever there’s some asshole
screwing people over, they are a menace to some community.”
I chuckled. It was a way of looking at it. Sometimes we
earned our pay by ending a kidnapping of some rich guy or to find
out who was laundering money, and usually it was to benefit the
big-wigs. But finding the kidnapper was always beneficial to the
kidnapped, and the money launderer was usually a local gangster or
drug lord. There was always someone smaller who was helped by
our helping the folks with the deep pockets.
But Tex was right. It would be nice to be able to work with a
small community and help them directly. I felt bad that we would
have to charge them, but that was our business, what we had to do.
We would be out of work and unable to travel to these places where
people needed our help if we didn’t charge something for our
services. It didn’t mean we didn’t do pro-bono work from time to
time, but we did need to make some kind of income otherwise.
“Where are we going?” Syd asked, returning from the river.
He dried the inside of his ear with his shirt as he waltzed up in the
buff.
“New York,” I said, trying not to let my disdain drip into my
tone.
“Alright,” he said, a smile stretching across his face. “City?”
I nodded.
“Sweet. I was kind of jealous you guys got to go, and I
didn’t,” he said. Syd had been on assignment during my last trip
there. I would have happily changed places with him.
“Are we crashing at your pad then?” Syd asked.
“Hm?”
“Didn’t you say you had an apartment there?”
“Oh, yeah. I do,” I said. “But it’s occupied. Besides, it wouldn’t
fit all of us in there. We’d be better off sharing a jail cell.”
That was an exaggeration. It was actually a nice apartment. I
had invested in it thinking that maybe I would have a reason to go
back there, but as time went on, I found that it was just a nice
income-earner for me in case work didn’t pan out with the club.
Between that and the condo I let out in Florida, I was doing alright.
A few of the guys owned property around the country, some
with the idea that it was just a nest egg for when they decided to
slow down and get off the road. Others saw it like I did, as a money
earner while we were traveling. And then there were a couple of
guys who wanted to one day retire to their house. As the years
dragged on since my purchase, I had wanted nothing to do with the
apartment in New York. I rarely remembered I had it, with the
exception of when I had to organize something to be fixed in it for
my tenant or when it came to tax season.
I had spent a long time running from that city. I wasn’t keen
to go back anytime soon. I personally didn’t feel it was a great place
for shifters, though I knew there were clubs specifically for shifters
that would rent out large warehouses where we could let our
Animals run free. But the whole beauty of being a shifter was our
connection with nature and our natural instincts. We were a balance
between the wild and the human, and if we couldn’t let our wild be
wild in the woods or in some form of a natural habitat, then we were
tipping that balance.
That wasn’t the only reason why I had been avoiding that city
in particular, either. I’d grown up there. And sometimes, there were
some things that should just be left behind.
It was on the tip of my tongue to protest, to say that there
were likely better jobs elsewhere that we could take hold, but why?
Why would I turn down this particular job if I truly cared about
being of service? I couldn’t justify it, especially since we were so
close to the city anyway. We were only a two-hour drive away from
the Big Apple. I couldn’t come up with a reason for not going that
wasn’t selfishly motivated.
I grunted as I rolled myself out of the hammock and began to
untie it from the trees.
* * *
“Sharon,” a woman with short blond hair said, extending her

hand. She was graying at the top, and she looked drained with
worry.
“Arnold,” said the man, his own hair a white wreath around
his dark head.
Razzer, Syd, Tex, and I all took turns shaking their hands.
While the rest of the guys got settled in at our hotel, the four of us
had set out to meet our clients. The neighborhood was on the
outskirts of the city. It was a fairly nice one, the kind that parents
would be happy to raise a family in. I knew of this side of town. It
was the opposite of the kind of place I grew up in.
“We’re so glad you came,” Sharon said. “We’ve never had a
problem like this before. It just seemed to happen so suddenly.”
“The MacIntosh boy was the first one, and we just thought he
was a bad apple in the neighborhood,” Arnold explained, rubbing his
forehead against the sun. “It was sad, but sometimes kids get mixed
up in the wrong crowds. But when we started noticing the Adams
kid, the Danes twins, and the Phelps girl all acting strange, we
realized there was something going on.”
“And what do you think is going on?” I asked, though I
thought I knew.
“There’s someone corrupting our kids,” Sharon hissed.
“What she means,” Arnold said. “Is that there’s someone here
dealing drugs to our kids.”
“What happened to the MacIntosh boy?” Syd asked.
“He left, completely,” Sharon said. “It was obvious he was on
drugs. He changed the way he dressed; he started being difficult.
We could hear him yelling at his poor parents from down the street.
And then one day, he just moved out. He was sixteen, and he said
he was done, moved on out.”
“And you think that’s related?” Tex gently inquired, carefully
keeping any tone of skepticism from his voice.
“We know it’s related,” Arnold said. “He might have moved
out, but he still sticks around, hanging out with the other kids
around here, the ones we’ve already mentioned.”
“Alright,” Razzer said, planting a hand on his waste and
putting another hand up while he thought. He looked down at the
ground as his bottom lip curled in under his mustache. “So the kids
around here are getting into drugs, and MacIntosh seems to be
encouraging it. Do you know who got him into everything? I mean,
don’t you think that maybe he just found the wrong crowd in the
city?”
“We did at first,” Sharon said. “But before he moved out, we
started noticing him getting picked up and dropped off by a car with
an older man in it, maybe in his thirties. He looked nice enough.
Clean suite, his hair always tidy—wholesome enough that he could
be a preacher at one of the churches.”
“How do you know he’s not?” I asked.
“Because no one knows who he is,” she said, looking directly
at me. “We’ve asked all the parents, and most of them have said
that they only see him with the kids.”
“We’ve got photos of him, too,” Arnold said. “We can’t see
quite what he’s giving them, but there is always some kind of
exchange that happens in the car. And it’s with all the kids that
we’ve mentioned. We think he’s dealing drugs to our children.”
“And we have plenty more evidence as well,” Sharon said.
“We’ve gone to the police with it to see what they can do about it,
but no one seems bothered.”
“This is the kind of neighborhood that police are usually
bothered about,” Arnold said sternly. “This isn’t some crime-riddled
place in the middle of the projects where it’s expected. This is a
respectable area, and we pay good money to live in these houses
and to have a good school in this district.”
“We think the police might be paid off,” Sharon said in a
hushed tone. “We think that, whoever this man is, he’s in good with
the law. Why else wouldn’t the police be concerned when we say
that there’s some drug dealer lurking about?”
“There’s a specific officer,” Arnold continued, “Officer Grant,
who has specifically been assigned to our complaints. We’ve been
told that he has a warrant to arrest this man, though he has yet to
do it. Which is why we think that he and any officers working with
him might be on this guy’s pay roll.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to point out that the police in
New York City were busy with all manner of things. There were far
bigger things at play here than middle-class neighborhoods
experiencing the sprawl of drugs for the first time. It was tragic but
somewhat of a miracle that this was the first time they were seeing
it. They were a very rare and lucky breed.
Sharon turned and looked at me as if sensing my doubt. I
tried to make sure my face was arranged in a neutral expression,
and I stood up straighter, pushing my shoulders back.
“We heard about you, Hayjack,” she said. “We know you grew
up in the city. We felt far more comfortable asking for your help, to
have someone who would have an appreciation of the area working
for us. We felt that you would have a stronger feel for the city and
might be better able to get to the bottom of this than an outsider.”
I nodded though didn’t respond. I didn’t know how to say
that every part of me wanted to decline this job and leave it behind,
that I had no respect for New York nor wanted to be there. But if my
presence brought them comfort, then I would do my job and when it
was done, I would turn my back on the city once again.
“So you want us to scare him off?” Tex asked.
“No,” Arnold said. “We want you to catch him and turn him
in.”
“But if you think the police are involved, then why do you
think that will do any good?” I asked, unfolding my arms and
hooking my thumbs on my beltloops.
“We want to take him to someone higher up in the police
force,” Arnold explained. “Then they’ll have to listen to us. We have
plenty of evidence against the guy, and if we turn to a police chief
with him and the evidence, then we’re bound to get somewhere.”
I wondered if that plan would work, if maybe the level of
corruption went higher up, though I shrugged that off. If this guy
was just messing around with recruiting kids from some rich
neighborhood, the likelihood that he had enough power to pay of a
police chief was slim to none.
“Do you know his name?” Razzer asked. “We need to find this
guy somehow. We can’t just go around asking people if they’ve seen
the guy who’s lurking around this part of town.”
Sharon bent down to a plastic bag at her feet. There were a
few folders in it, but she pulled out a blue one and handed it to me.
“His name is Ricky Gage,” she said.
But I already knew that as soon as I flipped open the file and
saw the blown up printout of his face between the pieces of
cardstock. I hadn’t seen that face in years, and it hadn’t aged much.
His hair was pulled back like some 1950s gangster, thick and black,
and his face was clean-shaven. His jaw was long but gave way to a
square chin, and his eyes were covered by dark sunglasses.
I wondered if they had seen behind those sunglasses of his, if
they had seen that the wasn’t as soothing to the eye as their local
pastor but that his eyes bulged out of red eyelids and had a tinge of
yellow to them. I wondered if they knew that when he grew angry,
the blue eyes paled a shade and took on a new look altogether.
I did.
And those eyes, that chin, that slicked back hair on top of this
man’s head, all boiled down to the main reason I had left New York
City.
Chapter 2 – Sara
The room wasn’t much. But it was affordable, and, most

importantly, it was safe.
It had taken years for me to decide that the YWCA would be
an appropriate place to go. There were plenty of women’s shelters in
New York, but in the end, it was the YWCA that felt most comforting
to me. Of course, it helped that it didn’t specifically have the world
“shelter” or “battered” in its name. I didn’t think I could resign to
that identity. Not now, anyway. Maybe one day I would accept it.
But for now, I counted my blessings every night before I went
to bed. I was grateful that I was safe and that my mother had been
laid to rest, peacefully and naturally, without any knowing of the hell
I endured in her name.
It had been worth it, though. My mother raised me
singlehandedly in the city, working two jobs to make sure there was
food for the two of us, and the least I could do was make sure she
was safe from the choices I had made. And, boy, had I made some
bad decisions in my lifetime.
Ricky being at the top of the list.
Of course, men were generally at the top of the list of bad
decisions for women. There was always that one experience that
they wish they hadn’t gotten themselves into. In the beginning,
Ricky had been wonderful. If you had asked me then if I thought he
was capable of … well, I would have laughed.
I’d met him while I was hauling laundry out of the car to go
into the laundromat. Our apartment building had a laundry facility in
it, but it had recently been flooded by a burst pipe. After two weeks
of the apartment managers dragging their feet to get it fixed, I gave
up and decided to haul my laundry to the place a few blocks down.
There was so much of it that I’d decided to drive, only to have the
laundry bag split as soon as I got it out of the car. All the laundry
had dropped into a puddle.
Right in front of Ricky.
“Are you alright?” he’d asked me, stooping down to help me
pick up our dirty clothes, now soaked in what I was beginning to
doubt was a puddle of solely water.
“I’m fine,” I said. “Thank you, but you don’t have to do this.”
“I insist,” he said.
He helped me gather the laundry and carry it into the
laundromat and, despite my protests, had even paid for the washing
and drying for me. He stayed with me and chatted, telling me all
about how he grew up on Rhode Island and came out to New York
as a teenager when his parents split up.
By the end of the hour and a half, when it was time to pack
my clothes away, he had made me laugh so hard and had been so
open about himself that I felt like I had known him my whole life.
He’d been nothing short of a comfort to me after such a frustrating
start to the day.
He was handsome in his own way. His eyes were a little
strange, but when he smiled, which he did a lot, they took on a
certain beauty.
“Please, let me buy you coffee,” I’d said. “For helping me out.
I really appreciate it.”
“No,” he’d said smiling. “I couldn’t accept anything for just
trying to be helpful.”
I’d smiled politely and nodded, not really sure what to say. I
hadn’t wanted our interaction to end, and I certainly wasn’t in the
habit of asking men out. “Well, you were very helpful.”
“It was my pleasure.” Ricky had followed me out and walked
me to my car, carrying my bag of laundry. “I’m sorry I can’t have
coffee with you. But would you be interested in having dinner with
me?”
“Yes,” I’d blurted out without hesitation. “I mean, that would
be nice.”
He’d smiled, his eyes smiling with him.
And thus began our fairly brief courtship before marriage. He
was nothing but kind and devoted, making me feel as though I was
the only woman in the world. I moved into his place within two
months of dating him, and within six months, we were married. He
convinced me that I didn’t need to work my job as a cocktail
waitress any more, that I had him to look after me now, and that
the money I was giving to my mother to help support her could
come from him, instead. Ricky told me, as he stroked my hair and
nuzzled my ear, that there was nothing in the world I would want for,
that he would look after both me and my mother. I had never been
so swept away by someone’s charm in my life.
But after our vows were solidified in the city records, that
charm soon faded. He didn’t smile as often, and I felt like my very
presence annoyed him. He didn’t come home until late at night, and
I would overhear phone calls of him directing, and sometimes even
threatening, whoever was on the other end. When I would ask
about those things, as delicately as I could, he would snap at me
that it was none of my business, that he paid for the roof over our
heads, and that I should be grateful and silent.
Those were my warning signs, and I wasn’t about to take
them lightly. I had no idea what Ricky had gotten himself into or
who he was talking to, but I had no intention to find out. I packed
my bags and left.
I moved back in with Mom and through some stroke of luck
was able to get my old job back. I ignored Ricky’s calls, and when I
did answer them, I told him exactly why I left and that things were
over, that there was nothing left to discuss. I saw all the shades of
him, from gifts and telegrams—actual telegrams—declaring his love
and hurt, promises of change, and all the rest, to anger that I’d
thrown away the best thing I could ever hope to have.
I ignored it all, signed the divorce papers, and carried on.
That was when I met him, another man. This man was the
man I had been waiting for even though I’d never realized it. When I
was with him, I felt safe and, in some weird way, thought that I had
met Ricky just so I could get to the point where I’d met my new
love. I was set to never look back.
That was, until Ricky found out and started using a new
tactic.
When I came home one day after shopping for groceries, still
thinking about the perfect night I had just spent with my new man, I
saw Ricky in the living room talking with Mom. Mom never knew the
worst of Ricky, the real reason that I left. She only saw the gifts sent
to the house and his sorrow, and all I told her was that I had left
because it turned out we weren’t a good match. I didn’t want to
worry her by telling her that I had been with a dangerous man.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I breathed, dropping the
bags, smashing the jar of mayonnaise, and breaking all the eggs.
“Sara,” Mom scolded. “That is no language to be using.”
“What is he doing here, Mom?” I demanded.
“I’m sorry,” Ricky said standing. “I should go. This wasn’t a
good idea.”
“No, Ricky,” Mom said. “You sit down. Sara, he’s your
husband. He just wants to talk things over with you.”
I shook my head, terrified by what I was hearing and seeing.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” I managed to say.
“I’ll unload these groceries,” Mom said, making her way over
to me. “And I’ll get some dinner on the go. Just hear what he has to
say, alright?” She patted me lovingly on the cheek before scooping
up the groceries that had fallen to the floor. “Go on, Sara.”
I helped her gather the food before I went into the living
room, shielded by a wall that separated it from the kitchen and
dining room.
“What do you want?” I asked through clenched teeth, not
even sitting down.
“To talk, Sara,” Ricky said, looking up at me and smiling.
Except this smile didn’t reach his eyes. This wouldn’t be a pleasant
conversation.
“I don’t want to talk,” I said. “We’re done.”
“You say that,” he said, “but your mother is so sweet and
wants so much for her daughter to be happy.”
“Which is why I left you.”
“And it’s why you’ll come back,” he said. “She is so sweet in
fact, that it would be tragic if the world were deprived of her.”
Cold dripped down my spine as I registered what he was
saying.
“No,” I whispered. “You wouldn’t.”
He smiled again. This time, his eyes smiled as well, showing
me that handsome man I had fallen in love with. Except I knew it to
be a lie. The man I fell in love with before I married Ricky didn’t
exist. I didn’t even know that I had felt real love for him in the first
place.
“Do you want to find out?”
During the time that we had been apart, I’d begun to gather
little bits and pieces of information regarding what Ricky was doing.
He was recruiting children, soon-to-be adults, getting them to be his
muscle, his drug mules. I didn’t know what his end goal was, but
from everything I was seeing, he was seeking out a life in the
underbelly of the city, and worst of all, he was successful.
They were calling him the gRage, some strange combination
of his last name and his first initial to make a word that had the
punch of chaos in it. I knew that my suspicions had been true, that
he was dangerous, and I had felt so lucky that I had seen those red
flags early on and left him.
But now he was here. And I didn’t know how far he would go,
where his boundaries were. Was I really willing to gamble the safety
of my mother on that? Did I want to find out?
“What do you want?” I asked again.
“I want you to come back,” he said quietly. “I’m sure you’ll
see reason, that you were just scared by how quickly everything
moved between us. But you miss me. I know you do.”
He took my hand in his and kissed my palm, breathing me in.
His fingers wrapped around my wrist as he did so, and he put his
cheek in his other hand. Ricky raised his strange eyes to look up at
me, and his fingers tightened around my wrist as he began to slowly
pull at me, bringing my face to his.
Then he kissed me.
My skin crawled with revulsion, and I wanted to pull away, but
he held my wrist tight beside him.
When he released my lips he said, “Come back to me, Sara.
I’ll make you happy. Your mother will live a happy life knowing her
daughter is happy.” He pecked my lips again and whispered. “And if
you don’t, then I’ll paint these water-stained walls with red.”
I shook myself to return to the present. I looked around my
small but clean room at the YMCA, tears in my eyes. I had gotten
what I wanted from my deal with Ricky. In the end, it wasn’t him
who had killed my mom. She had cancer and had refused treatment.
She didn’t want to put me in debt with her medical bills, and she
didn’t want to fight when she wasn’t sure she could win. It was her
own gamble, and we spent her last year doing everything we could
together.
By the end of that year, she was in a lot of pain, and it was a
small consolation that her death had been a merciful release for her.
She was my strength and had always been my source of
determination. When she died, I knew what I had to do, what she’d
wanted me to do. She had taught me that life is hard but that you
have to move forward through it. And with that determination,
feeling guilty to the bone, I knew that I had to see her death as my
opportunity to leave. And I did. I left him right after the funeral.
My small apartment at the YWCA was more than I could have
hoped for. I knew that it wasn’t a forever situation, and that they
tended to have an overflow of women needing to stay there. Mom’s
savings were enough that I could find myself a small apartment
once my thirty days in the shelter were over.
It had a little kitchen, though it was basic. A small counter-top
cooker, an under-the-counter fridge, and a sink; enough for me to
cook my own meals in. I was sharing the bathroom down the hall
with others. None of that mattered. I was happy to be away from
him. I could finally be free.
I headed downstairs with my backpack, my reusable cloth
bags stuffed inside for groceries, and stepped into the sunlight of
the late spring. Everything felt fresher now, more alive. It wasn’t just
the spring air, but more that I was finally stepping into my new life
and that, while I was nervous about Ricky finding me, I was
beginning to see the tendrils of happiness. I let my imagination
expand, thinking that maybe, just maybe, I could start my life over
again.
It was Razzer who was taking the lead on this assignment,

despite Sharon having said that I came recommended. I was alright
with that. I had too much of a tie to this to think clearly.
We went back to the hotel, and I sat down in the bar next
door with a few of the guys while we waited for the next move. I
couldn’t sit still. By the time I was done with my beer, the label on
the bottle had not only been completely peeled away but had also
been torn, folded, and demolished into a near pulp in a small pile in
front of me. I couldn’t stop my knee from bouncing as I leaned
forward on the table on my elbows, spinning the bottle between my
fingers on the surface and gesturing to the bartender to order a new
one.
The guys played pool and ate burgers and pizza, but I
couldn’t focus on any of it. All I could think of was Ricky Gage.
It was a name that I knew well, one that had seared a scar
within me simply because she had gone back to him.
I knew when I met Sara that I loved her, that she was my
mate. She had a smile that sparkled even in the low light of the
cocktail bar she worked at. I had watched her all night, let her serve
me olives and whatever else she had on special just so that I could
talk to her each time she came to my table. At the end of the
evening, I had managed to ask her out for a drink the next day, and
that was it. We were interlocked and bound. I couldn’t get enough of
her.
She had the kind of personality that wouldn’t take any bullshit
from anyone. After a while, she opened up to me about the husband
she’d left and why she’d left him. We’d just made love, and I stroked
her hair, telling her that everything was okay, that she was with me
now, and that I vowed to her that I would do everything in my
power to protect her. And I meant it. I would have done anything for
her.
I decided to tell her my own secret then. It seemed only fair
after she’d told me hers. I told her that I was a shifter. I was so
convinced that she was my mate, that we were going to be together
for the rest of our lives, that I needed to reveal my hidden side. She
was silent for a long time after I told her, but I was sure that she’d
accept that side of me eventually. Because mates did.
We fell asleep together for the first time that night. Usually,
she’d return to her mother’s place after our lovemaking. But I’d been
able to convince her that it was safe to stay with me through the
night this time. When we woke up after the most perfect night of my
life, I knew that this was what I wanted until I died, to wake up next
to this amazing woman who was my mate.
Which made it all the more hurtful when she never responded
to my texts and phone calls the next day, when she wasn’t where
she said she would be. I knew better than to look for her at her
mother’s house. Sara had always worried that we got too involved
too quickly after she left Ricky and hadn’t wanted to tell her mother
about us, not yet at least. I understood and respected that. She’d
made me promise not to visit her there, at least not yet, and I’d
intended to keep that promise.
Perhaps her silence simply meant that she needed time to
think about what I had told her. So I gave her some space. But as
time went on, and there was no word from her, I began to worry. I
wondered whether her silence might have something to do with
Ricky. I had no doubt that Sara’s worries about him being dangerous
were well-founded. I had been in and out of the dark side of New
York my whole life, especially growing up in the area I had. I knew
the signs, and she was right on the money. Day by day of not
hearing from her, my concerns grew to an all-encompassing dread.
Finally, I decided I would break my promise to Sara. I went to
see if she was home or at least if her mother had any news.
When I arrived, I was greeted by a sweet woman with long
silver hair piled in a loose bun on the top of her head. She wore a
baggy old sweatshirt and jeans. Past her, I could see boxes and bare
walls everywhere.
“I’m so sorry to bother you,” I said. “Have I caught you at a
bad time?”
“Oh no,” she said cheerfully. “I’m just getting ready to move
in with my daughter and son-in-law.”
“I see,” I said. It was all the information I needed. Sara was
so appalled by my shifter nature that she’d gone back to him. She
must have been really repulsed by me to want to go back to that
man. My heart broke into a million pieces. “I think I might have the
wrong apartment anyway.” I had forced a smile before turning away
from the door.
That was the last I had heard of Sara.
And now, years later, I was in New York City, hired to capture
her husband. What kind of world was this, that I was thrown back
into the very thing I had tried to escape?
I wondered what had happened after I’d left, if she had left
him again, if she was safe.
She had told me all about Ricky, and it wasn’t a long stretch
to suppose that his behavior toward her hadn’t gotten any better
with the years. I had dealt with my fair share of assholes over the
years in this line of work, and it wasn’t uncommon for there to be a
battered partner lurking somewhere behind the scum we dealt with.
Hell, we’d even been hired on behalf of the wife a time or two.
I knew guys like Ricky. Without ever meeting him, I knew all
about him. He would have spent time making sure that Sara was
isolated from her friends. It meant that he had more control over
her. Abusers generally didn’t like it when their partners reached out
to the world without them. That was how the abusers got found out.
I wondered if maybe, despite everything, she had left him. A
small flitter of hope surged in my stomach. But if she had, she might
be in danger. If I wanted to have any chance at finding Sara, if I
wanted to make sure that she was safe, I was going to have to find
Ricky. Or perhaps, the key to finding Ricky was to find Sara. It was a
long shot, but I pulled out my phone and began searching, seeing if
there was anyone who fit her profile. I ran her name through
Facebook and Instagram. It turned out that there were 218 people
in New York City who matched her name or variations thereof.
After what felt like forever sifting through profile photos, I
found hers.
My breath caught in my throat at the picture of her. She
hadn’t aged a day. The picture showed her and Ricky drinking
cocktails on top of a roof while the sun set in the background. They
certainly hadn’t been in the city during that time.
Despite the smile on her face, despite the pose she was
striking with Ricky, their hands meeting in the middle, their drinks
connecting in the air, she didn’t look happy. I thought that maybe it
was just wishful thinking, but I could see it in her eyes. Her smile
just didn’t quite reach those eyes, and her shoulders hunched a
little. The crook of her elbow on the table looked too angular. On
closer observation, I could see the whites in Ricky’s fingernails
straining over her hand on the table.
He was trying to keep her hand in place for the photo.
I tried to scroll through her profile, to learn whatever I could,
but she had the privacy settings up, blocking me from any
information. I couldn’t even see who she was friends with. It made
sense. It was likely Ricky’s doing, anyway.
I put the phone down, wondering where I would look if I
wanted to find her. I had no idea if she had really left him, but
something in me told me that she had. If she had really left him, she
might be in a shelter.
Something about that seemed right. I didn’t know what it
was, but my Bear began nudging me at the thought that maybe she
had left him, that she might be hiding out somewhere. She was my
mate, or at least, I thought she was. Was fate guiding me to her?
I looked up every woman’s shelter in the city and made a list.
Without a word to anyone, I drained my beer and left.
* * *
I was standing in front of the YWCA. I had no idea why I’d

chosen this one to visit first. My Bear had guided me here, and I’d
followed. I was finishing my cigarette, getting ready to go into it and
see if there was any way that I could find out if Sara was staying
there. It would be a long shot, since the whole nature of their
services was to protect women who were running away from difficult
circumstances, but it was the only thing I could think to do. My only
other option was to just wait until she showed up, and I didn’t know
how long it would be before they asked me to move along. I couldn’t
imagine that a tall guy like me standing in front of their building set
the tone of safety.
I was weighing my options when a woman rounded the
corner, carrying a backpack and a cloth bag full of groceries.
She was just like I remembered her, though perhaps worn by
the stress I could only imagine she was dealing with. She still kept
her strawberry blond hair long. It was loosely braided and flopped
over her shoulder. Her bangs swooped to the side, and she wore a
minimal amount of makeup. She was a tall woman, which I’d always
found so attractive about her. It was like she was born to match me
in height. Her shape was hidden under a billowy button-up shirt and
loose water-wader pants, but I could tell that she was just as
beautifully curvy under there as she had been when I met her.
“Sara,” I breathed.
She gasped, dropping her groceries. A couple of apples rolled
free when the bag slumped to its side.
“Hayjack,” she said, her fingers moving to her mouth. “You’re
here.”
I took a step closer to her, resisting every urge in me to scoop
her into my arms and hold her close to me. I wanted nothing more
than to breathe her in, to tell her everything was alright, that I
would keep her safe or die trying.
My voice caught in my throat, and I nodded.
“What are you doing here?” she asked. She made no move to
pick up her fallen groceries and neither did I.
“I came for you,” I said softly. “I wanted to make sure you
were alright.”
“But how did you know I was here?” Her question was filled
with confusion. I had hoped that perhaps she would be happy to see
me, but then again, she had left me. Maybe she didn’t want me
around.
I shrugged, not really knowing what to say, and so I said the
only thing that came to mind. “I guess it was fated.”
She shook her head before looking around, remembering her
groceries and collecting them. I felt frozen to the spot, unable to
move.
She was scared. I could see that now. It wasn’t confusion; it
was fear overriding whatever she was actually feeling. Ricky had
abused her. That was plain as day, and she was terrified of being
found.
“Come in,” she said and waved her chin toward the door.
I took her backpack and grocery bag in my hand and followed
her into the lobby where I was asked to sign into the ledger. I didn’t
like doing it. I understood the reasoning behind it, but if Sara was
truly in danger and Ricky came looking for her, I didn’t like giving
them a clue that I had been around and get her into more trouble.
But if I wanted to talk to her, I had to comply, so I did before
following her up ancient wooden and creaking steps.
She ushered me into her apartment and closed the door
behind her, leaning against it as if her venture out into the world had
been exhausting and life-threatening. Perhaps that was true.
Sara looked up at me, her eyes shiny with wet.
“You came back,” she whispered. “I can’t believe it, Hayjack.”
I put her backpack and the groceries on the bed, the only
piece of furniture in the space, and pulled her into my arms,
stooping down to give her the hug I had dreamed about for years. I
smelled her hair, felt her body perfectly fold into my arms, and
buried my face into her shoulder. I had waited years for another shot
at this moment, to be able to hold her again.
Her arms, which were barely able to wrap around me, held
me tight, and I thought I felt her body shudder with a sob.
“What are you doing here?” she asked as she pulled away.
“How did you find me?”
“I’m, um,” I said stammering. I wanted to tell her that I had
worried about her, that I had waited all these years to find her
again, but I stopped myself. I didn’t know what she wanted, only
what I wanted. Sara was at the YWCA for crying out loud. It didn’t
matter what I wanted, and I had no business confusing her head
with whatever was going on in mine. I needed to be professional. I
needed to keep focused. “I’m actually on an assignment in New
York.”
“Assignment?” she asked, her face that had moments ago
been filled with emotion contorting into an expression of confusion.
“Are you a journalist now or something?”
I chuckled. “No. I’m a part of a motorcycle club. We are kind
of hired do-gooders. We were hired for something by one of the
more, shall we say, affluent neighborhoods around here.”
“Private security?”
I shrugged. “Something like that, but nothing like that. I’ll tell
you about it sometime,” I said smiling, then cleared my throat.
“Sometime” implied that I assumed that we would see each
other again, more than once. That perhaps we would be hanging
out again, with things going back to the way they were. I couldn’t
imply that. I needed to keep to the assignment. There might be time
for “sometime” later. But until we found Ricky, Sara was going to be
in danger, and I couldn’t let my emotions get the better of me, nor
could I let myself confuse her.
“The assignment involves finding Ricky Gage,” I said softly.
“Your husband.”
“He’s not my husband,” she corrected sternly. “I left him.”
I glanced to her left hand and saw a naked finger that should
have been adorned with a wedding ring. With the slightest motion, I
made my head nod, rolling my lips inward to keep myself from
speaking, from telling her that she should have never been with him
in the first place, from asking her why she’d left me and gone back
to him.
“Would you be willing to help us find him?” I asked.
Sara went to the bed where I’d dropped her groceries and
moved them to the minimal counterspace on the far end of the
room. The only window in her living space was above the sink, and
cupboards hung on either side of it. She began putting her things
away, not answering me, and I didn’t want to push her. It was a big
ask. I knew that much.
I watched her reach up to put the instant coffee on the shelf,
her shirt coming up a little in the back, showing her tattoo of the city
skyline as a shaded silhouette. I remembered that tattoo fondly. I
had once traced it with my tongue.
We had spent so many nights together, simply worshiping
each other. The years might have gone by, and there might be a
couple of creases by her eyes these days, but she was still beautiful.
As she bent down to put cheese, milk, and a few other things in the
small fridge under the counter, my mind darted back to the feeling of
my hands on those hips as I stood behind her.
I shook my head. I didn’t need to be thinking of those things.
I was here to keep her safe and to find Ricky. I needed to keep my
head in the game.
I felt somewhat ashamed for letting my mind go to carnal
thoughts and wants. This woman had undergone who knew what,
and I was thinking about our times together naked? What was
wrong with me?
But it wasn’t that I was just horny and needing to get laid. It
was that it was Sara. This woman had once been the most precious
person in my life, and she had changed my life forever. She still was
the most precious thing in my life.
That was why it was so important that I averted my thinking,
that I focused only on keeping her safe. I wouldn’t, couldn’t consider
anything else.
Chapter 4 – Sara
I nearly ran when I heard my name, and I certainly didn’t

recognize the man in front of me as I turned toward the shelter. I
froze, unable to process what was in front of me. That cold drip of
fear rinsed my spine as my mind raced. He’s found me.
I thought that the tall man in the dark leather was one of the
thugs Ricky had hired to find me and bring me back. It wasn’t until
my heart pounding in my ears brought recognition to me. It was
him.
“Hayjack?” I asked, not even sure that I could possibly be
seeing him.
I had let him into my apartment without a thought, and now
he was sitting on my bed while I unloaded the groceries, trying
desperately to keep my hands from shaking. He still hadn’t told me
how he found me, and if the guy I hadn’t seen since I first left Ricky
was able to find me, wouldn’t Ricky be able to find me, too?
“Sara,” he said, his voice sending tendrils of warmth through
me as it rumbled in his chest. “What happened?”
I closed the fridge and turned, leaning against the counter,
unable to look at him. I couldn’t, not when he looked as good now
as he had the last time I had seen him. Perhaps he was more worn
around the edges, but weren’t we all?
“One day I just stopped hearing from you,” he said. “And you
went back to him.”
I nodded, swallowing the emotion that was threatening to
come spilling from my eyes. I didn’t want to cry. I had spent too
many years crying, and I didn’t want to anymore.
“I did go back to him,” I said softly. “I had to.”
It was only then that I trusted myself to look at him, his blue
eyes looking into mine. They were the kind of eyes that almost
seemed impossible to exist, the cold pale blue lined with a darker
blue as if they were drawn into place. Yet they were anything but
cold. When he looked at me, his expression was soft and warm, as
though I was the only thing in the world to look at.
“Ricky told me that if I didn’t go back to him then he would
kill my mother,” I confessed, matter-of-factly. “And with some of the
things I had heard him say, that I had seen …” I shook my head, not
wanting to relive my bad decisions. I had done that every day since
I’d agreed to give our marriage another shot, and I wanted nothing
more than to forget him, to focus on a new life for myself.
“He was dangerous,” Hayjack said quietly. “You followed your
gut, and you were right to do so when you left. I just don’t
understand why you didn’t come to me. I could have helped you.”
I crossed my arms in a defensive gesture and stared at the
ceiling. “You have no idea what that man was like—is like. I couldn’t
risk anything happening to Mom. Maybe it was an empty threat,
maybe not, but I didn’t want to find out. And I didn’t tell you
because I didn’t want to put you in danger as well. But in hindsight,
yeah, I shouldn’t have left you.”
Hayjack didn’t say anything, and when I looked down at him,
I saw that he was resting his elbows on his knees, his head hanging
down. I guess that time had been hard on him too.
He swung his head up after a moment and pressed his lips
together as he organized his thoughts. I had seen him do it so many
times before. Some things just didn’t change.
“Will you be willing to help us track down Ricky?” he asked.
“What?” I couldn’t believe it. There was so much that I
wanted to talk about with him, so much that needed to be said, and
he was just switching to business?
“If we can find Ricky,” he said, his voice still soft though
direct, “then you will be safe. He will go into custody, and you won’t
have to worry about him anymore.”
“Ha!” I said, unable to help myself. “Unless you get him
thrown in prison for life, I will never be safe.”
“I will make sure you are,” Hayjack said. “Sara, you are our
only way of finding him, and I will never let anything happen to you.
To do that, I need to find him.”
I weighed my options. I didn’t know that I wanted to tell
Hayjack anything. He was right that if they managed to get Ricky
behind bars then I would be safe, that was, until he got out again,
but what if somehow Hayjack’s appearance led right back to me?
What I didn’t want to tell Hayjack was that Ricky knew who
he was. After we got back together, he went through all my contacts
on my phone, my email, and all of my social media and thinned it
out, demanding that I explain exactly who everyone was and even
going so far as to show him pictures of these people. He didn’t want
any surprises, didn’t want to see me with anyone that he didn’t
know. He tightened his grip on me and kept me within his line of
sight as best as he could those first few weeks after we got back
together. That was only because I still had the excuse to leave the
house to see my mother. Ricky put a stop to that by suggesting that
she live with us.
The one consolation I had was that Ricky never did harm her,
nor did he let her see how awful he was to me. My mother blessedly
got to live out her days thinking that I was happy and with a good
man, which was what I wanted. I didn’t want her to worry about
me.
Because Hayjack had been my lover, Ricky had been
particularly obsessed with him. He’d wanted to know everything
about him that I could tell him. He’d even straight up asked me if
Hayjack was a shifter. I hadn’t known that Ricky knew about shifters,
and I hadn’t lied. It was then that he told me that he was a shifter,
too. Ricky had saved all of the photos of Hayjack and me that were
on my phone, reclaimed my computer for his own, and combed
through my files and email to make sure that I had nothing left of
Hayjack and didn’t contact him.
But he’d kept Hayjack’s pictures. Every now and then, over
the years, I would see him brooding over the photos on his
computer as if he was questioning what it was that I had seen in
him, what it was that Hayjack had that he didn’t. Or perhaps he was
plotting something against Hayjack. I never found out, and I had no
way to warn Hayjack anyway.
But now Hayjack was here, sitting on my bed. I knew that
Ricky wouldn’t let him go if he got his dirty hands on him. I also
knew Hayjack well enough that I couldn’t keep him away this time. I
didn’t like any of it.
This could be your only shot, I thought. Hayjack is offering
you freedom. All you have to do is share what you know.
I had spent much of my time over the past years assuming
that nothing could work out for me, but now there was a strong
voice of doubt humming in my head. What if things could go my
way? What if finally things were going to turn around for me?
I would never know if I didn’t learn to trust someone to help
me, and Hayjack was likely the best person to trust right now.
I nodded slowly. “Alright,” I said. “What do you need to
know?”
* * *
It was a long conversation and hard to go through. Hayjack

was thorough, making sure he got the information he wanted from
me. I knew it was only because he wanted to find Ricky, but it didn’t
make it any better. Every aspect he asked about came with
memories, some less pleasant than others.
I went over Ricky’s schedule to the best of my abilities, all the
while knowing that I had no clue where he went once he was out of
the house.
The truth was that Ricky’s schedule was somewhat
nonexistent. I knew that when he left, he was likely to be gone all
day. When he was home, he would sometimes be around for days
on end, conducting whatever business he had from his phone. He
was never pleasant during his phone calls, though he was never
revealing. He would shut himself away when he talked, and I rarely
heard what he said.
There was little information that I could give Hayjack. Of
course, he told me that it was all very helpful and that he thought he
had a shot at finding Ricky. I didn’t know how true that was, but at
least I gave him the address of the house and a few of the names I
had heard. I also told him about the heavy security around the
house, which made it virtually impossible for anyone to get to him
there.
When Hayjack left, I slumped onto the bed, staring at the
ceiling.
It had been exhausting to dredge everything up. And for
what? At this long shot in the dark? I trusted Hayjack, but I didn’t
trust that he was capable enough to get to Ricky. Ricky had leveled
up his game, whatever it was. I might not know the specifics of
what he was doing, but I knew that drugs were involved, that
weapons were involved, and that he recruited mostly younger guys
to work for him. And I knew that he was more dangerous now than
he had been the first time I left him.
And so I lay there, unable to conjure anything else in me
other than simply feeling drained. I wanted to cry, but I had nothing
left in me. I just felt empty.
The city outside my window was bright. Somewhere above
the buildings, the sky was clear and the sun was shining. If the
gathering heat in my room hadn’t told me it, the brightening
buildings across the street did.
I needed to get out, get some fresh air, see if I could bring
myself back, fill my empty husk.
I stood, my body feeling like lead, and I stretched, giving
myself a few minutes to do a stationary version of the Sun
Salutation, which involved mostly bending forward and bending
back. My apartment didn’t leave much room to do anything else.
With the blood moving through my body, and most
importantly, to my head, I was beginning to feel a little bit better,
like I could back up my idea to go for a walk. The fresh air would do
me good, and just doing something other than thinking about
Hayjack, Ricky, or my situation would do me a world of good.
I vaguely thought of seeing if my friend’s store was still open
and if she was still there. Becky. She had been one of my closest
friends before I met Ricky and certainly my favorite person to drink
with. I hadn’t been in touch with her for ages, and the last time I
had, she owned a pretty popular consignment shop.
I decided that would be the direction I would go. I couldn’t
check if the shop still existed. I didn’t have a smart phone anymore.
In an effort to truly be rid of Ricky, I returned my phone to factory
mode and pawned it, getting a pay-as-you-go phone until I got
myself set up again. While I had the money from my mother’s bank
account, I didn’t want to tap into that for a phone. Not when I
needed to focus on getting a place to live.
I reached for the door to my apartment, then stopped myself.
Was it actually safe enough? Did I trust my anonymity enough to
venture out into the world, again? After all, Hayjack had found me
so easily. What if Ricky did the same?
I shook my head. I would be thinking this way for the rest of
my life, I realized. The only way to get my life back on track was to
be brave despite my concern. Besides, I’d managed to go out earlier
without any problems at all.
I balled my outstretched fingers into a ball, rubbing them
each against my thumb as I chewed on my bottom lip. I could do
this, right?
I took a deep breath, let myself into the hallway, and locked
the door behind me.
I could hear someone down the hall talking on her phone and
a baby crying in another room. Otherwise, it was quiet. I didn’t know
what else I expected. After all, the receptionist had the name of the
person I was hiding from, and he wouldn’t be able to get up here.
Still, I felt a little on edge.
Get a grip, Sara, I thought. This city was massive. There were
so many places I could be. It was unlikely that he would find me
here. But Hayjack did.
I shook my head to drown out this concern and went
downstairs. There was no one down there either that looked
worrisome. In fact, when I poked my head out of the door, the
sidewalk was relatively clear, which was surprising.
Nothing to worry about, I told myself.
It was nice outside, and I was glad I had gone out. The air
was warm, if not bordering on muggy, and with each step I took,
excitement gathered at the possibility of seeing Becky. I knew that
there was a good chance that she wouldn’t be there. But there was
also a chance that she was. And the latter was what carried my
steps forward.
I decided to cut through the small park on the way there. On
the far end was a basketball court where a few kids were shooting
hoops. I walked among a few old acorn trees and passed a swing
set.
I almost felt normal, like this was what I did every day. I had
missed being on my own, being able to go where I wanted when I
wanted. There was something fresh about the oncoming summer.
The leaves had just begun to show that they were there to eat up
the light of day, but the heaviness of the heat hadn’t quite set in yet.
I walked through the park, under the recently leafed branches
in the shade, when I felt someone behind me.
Every muscle in me tensed, and I could no longer feel the
warmth of the air. Instead, I felt chilled to my core.
I felt someone wrap his arm around me and something dig
into my side through his jacket, and I didn’t need to hear a word or
see a thing to know that it was a gun barrel.
“You’re coming with me,” a voice said behind me.
I didn’t know the voice, and I didn’t need to. It belonged to
one of Ricky’s men. There were a hundred other crimes that could
be committed on me right now, and a thousand people who it could
be, but I knew, without a shadow of a doubt that this guy was one
of Ricky’s.
“You scream, I pull the trigger,” he said. “You run, I pull the
trigger. You do anything other than what I tell you, I—”
“Pull the trigger,” I finished. “I got it.”
“Good. This way.”
My heart was pounding in my chest, and I struggled to get
my feet to move, but I did as I was told. With every step, I was
terrified that my knees would give way, that I would fall forward and
it would be seen as an attempt to escape.
I tried to keep my face neutral, keep the fear out of it. If
anyone suspected that I was in trouble, they might ask, and that
trigger might just get pulled twice. I couldn’t handle the idea of
someone else suffering because of my mistake. But I couldn’t stop
the tears from rolling down my face as prolifically as a persistent
leaking faucet. More than once, I had to remind myself to breathe
while we walked, something I only knew to do when I felt myself
begin to go dizzy.
The man directed me to the street where a van stood.
Someone sat in the driver’s seat, but I couldn’t make out his face. It
was too dark by now, and the tinted glass didn’t help, either.
The gunman beside me rolled open the door and gestured
into the back.
“Get in,” he said, as if I wouldn’t have been able to discern his
intent.
This couldn’t be happening. How had I gotten here? I had
done all the right things. I had found a shelter, and I had made sure
that I was safe, hadn’t I? How had he found me?
Before I knew it, the van was hurtling forward, and the guy
was next to me, his gun digging into my ribs, his arm wrapped
around my neck as if he was some affectionate friend.
I hung my head and cried softly before feeling a sharp poke
into my neck. Everything faded to darkness.
I couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t often that we got a hotel room, and

I generally didn’t sleep well in them. After camping out in the
wilderness, the air inside the rooms always seemed chemical, and I
hated the feel and the smell of the pillows.
I couldn’t stop thinking about her words, that she shouldn’t
have left me. She’d sounded frustrated when she said it, but maybe
she hadn’t been. Maybe she genuinely meant that she wished she
hadn’t left me.
And if that was the case, then what did it mean? Did it meant
that she regretted leaving me because she cared about me? That
she still cared about me? Or did it meant that if she had stuck with
me, she might not be in the situation she was in now and wouldn’t
have had to endure what she’d gone through all those years?
It had been so long. It felt like a long shot to think that
maybe she still loved me, if she’d ever loved me to begin with.
I grunted. I wasn’t ready for that old cycle of thinking again. I
had spent years running through it, over and over, thinking that if
she had truly loved me to begin with, she wouldn’t have left, or she
at least would have communicated with me. But she hadn’t. So she
must not have loved me.
But now I had finally heard it from her own mouth, the
reason why she left me. She left because she had to, to keep her
family safe. Was it fair to say that she hadn’t acted right? Sara was
right to say that I didn’t know Ricky like she did, and I didn’t know
what he was capable of then. But after reading the file that the
neighborhood watch had put together on him, I had a pretty good
idea of who he was now. Sara was right to leave him. But would she
stay away from him this time?
I turned in my bed yet another time. I hated having to leave
her earlier. I wanted nothing more than to stand guard outside her
door to make sure that no harm came to her.
Except, I knew she wouldn’t want that. She hadn’t wanted me
before. I knew what she’d said today, I knew what she had told me,
but if she had really wanted to get away from Ricky Gage back then,
she would have come to me for help. I could have sorted it all out. I
couldn’t understand how she hadn’t known that I loved her enough
to do anything for her. I mean, I had told her I was a shifter, after
all. Wasn’t that dedication enough?
There was one thing about being a shifter that I hadn’t told
her, though: the mate aspect. I had told her that I loved her more
than anything, but I never did get around to telling her that she was
my mate, the one person fate had chosen for me to spend the rest
of my life with.
I was the one shifter whose mate got away.
Sara was my one and only chance to be partnered for life,
and she didn’t want me. She chose Ricky, didn’t even try to pick me.
I didn’t know how she felt about me now that I had seen her
again, now that she had left that bastard. But it didn’t matter how I
felt about her, that I still loved her. All that mattered was that she
was safe, and the best thing I could do to keep her safe was to get
Ricky off the streets.
How I felt about Sara wasn’t the only thing causing me
sleeplessness though.
It had been shockingly easy to find her. I went to the first
women’s shelter I found in the search bar, with every intention to
work my way down the list as I looked for her. But there she was, at
the very shelter that crowned the search list. If I could find her,
Ricky could, too.
I couldn’t stand the idea. I wanted to go stand out in front of
that building all night, but I knew I couldn’t. There were few things
worse I could do than lurk in front of a women’s refuge in the middle
of the night. I would surely get arrested if I did that, and I wouldn’t
be any help for her then.
So instead, I waited for morning to come. I didn’t wait for the
guys to wake up, didn’t wait for Razzer to tell me what was going
on, but instead dressed and went straight to the Y. I had to see that
she was alright, and I was going to help her move to a safe place if
that was what she needed. Ricky or no, I needed to make sure she
was safe.
I was there fairly early. I hovered around before I finally went
inside at eight, the receptionist not looking particularly pleased at my
arrival. Thankfully, she was the same woman as the day before, and
so she knew that I had been invited in once.
“I just need to see Sara Gage,” I said.
“I’m sorry, but we don’t allow that,” she said.
“I was upstairs yesterday,” I argued.
“And she was present to verify that you were a welcomed
guest then,” the woman said. “It is a formality here that we ask all
residents to be present when their guests arrive.”
“Can you call her and ask her to come down?” I asked, feeling
somewhat desperate.
“I can,” she said. “But I won’t. Mrs. Gage isn’t here.”
I froze. “What?”
With a few clicks on her computer, she scanned the screen.
“Nope. She never signed back in yesterday when she went out.”
“Don’t you think that’s a problem?” I demanded, trying to
keep the anger out of my voice.
“Not at all,” the woman said. “It’s fairly common,
unfortunately. Sometimes the residents here decide to give their
spouses another chance, and they go back. If they don’t return for
their things after a few days, then we begin to worry and get the
police involved.”
“So there’s nothing you can do now?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I can leave your name and number if
she doesn’t have it so that she can call you when she gets back, but
that’s about my limit.”
I shook my head and left the building, my hands stuffed into
my pockets so the receptionist wouldn’t see that I had them
clenched so hard my knuckles were sure to be white. None of this
made sense. Sara wouldn’t go back to Ricky. She was in far worse
shape yesterday than I had seen her in before. I knew she was
smarter than to go back to him. Something was going on, and I
knew it wasn’t good.
I pulled my phone out and called Razzer.
“Sara’s gone,” I growled.
“Sara?”
“Sara Gage. gRage’s wife. I told you she was staying at a
shelter, right? Well, she’s gone.”
“Isn’t she just out or something?” Razzer asked.
“I’m telling you, she’s fucking gone,” I growled, struggling to
keep my voice down as I passed a cluster of runners. “He has her. I
know he does.”
“Alright, alright,” Razzer said on the other end. “Look, come
back here, and we’ll figure out what our next step is, alright?”
I hung up the phone and resisted hurtling it into a brick wall.
Nothing would have satisfied me more than to watch the phone
shatter into a thousand pieces. Nothing except for doing the same
thing to Ricky Gage’s head.
I was seething. I didn’t want to go and talk, and I didn’t like
how calm Razzer was taking the news. But then again, he had no
idea who Sara was to me other than a resource to dig up
information on Ricky.
I could hardly think straight. I felt dizzy as my mind raced.
Where the hell could she be? Where would he have taken her? I
tried to shuffle through all the information she had given me: his
address, some names she had heard, some of the details she had
overheard on the phone—anything that I thought would be useful.
My first thought was that I needed to go to Ricky’s house.
She’d mentioned the heavy security. What better place to hide her
than there?
But then a voice in my head spoke up. Maybe she did go back
to him, I thought. What if she went to warn him?
The thought hit me like a ton of cement. She’d gone back to
him once before when she knew he was dangerous. Why not do it
again?
I shook my head firmly. No, she knew better than that. I
believed that with every fiber of my being.
I tried to get my head clear enough to think what to do next.
I wanted to go over to Ricky’s and confront him. But was that the
smartest move, even if I took my brothers with me? If she was in
danger, me showing up on the doorstep wasn’t going to help
anyone.
I watched my feet as my boots picked up steps without any
direction in particular, not knowing if I needed to get back on my
bike or what.
I didn’t see the mass coming at me, the darkness of the body
that made no effort to move out of my way. I wouldn’t have paid it
much mind anyway. People usually moved out of my way.
Not this guy.
I didn’t realize he was there until I ran straight into him. I felt
the prick in my skin before everything faded to black.
Chapter 6 – Sara
It would have felt cliché if the sheer terror of it wasn’t

coursing through my veins.
I was definitely in a basement, that much I could figure out.
The walls and floor were basic cold concrete, leaving me feeling cold
despite the rising temperatures of the northeast. There were no
windows in the room, only a few white fluorescent lights that hurt
my eyes after constantly being on.
But I was somewhat free, at least. I could move around the
space, and I could examine just what kind of hell I found myself in.
All things considered, it wasn’t too bad. At least I had a bathroom I
could use, and there was lighting. There was a double mattress on
the floor, though it was stained and bare of a sheet. I had been
reluctant to use it at first, but as the cold settled into my bones, it
was the only thing I had to attempt to keep me warm. There were
wooden stairs that went up to the next floor, and at the top of the
stairs was an iron door, riddled with locks that dotted the side of the
door.
I didn’t know how long I had been in there. I had been
thrown in, only half aware of what was happening, and left on the
floor until my fully-thinking brain awoke—awoke terrified at that.
When I realized that I was trapped down here, that I didn’t know
how long, and when no one came to see to my wellbeing, the fear
truly began to settle in.
I was hungry, and I was exhausted, yet I couldn’t sleep, and I
doubted I would have eaten even if food had been provided.
The water in the bathroom seemed dubious. The faucet itself
was rusted and mucky, the toilet had black stuff running down the
sides of it, and the porcelain in the sink looked as though it was
rubbing away from a persistent drip. When I turned the tap on, the
water spluttered out its caught air bubbles and a vile reddish-brown
color belched from it, but after a minute or so, the water began to
run clear.
I didn’t know if it was to be trusted, but I was thirsty enough
not to care if it was toxic or not as long as it was water.
My mind spun around in circles. I knew full well that this was
all Ricky’s doing. I knew that it had been his order that had locked
me down here. But for what reason? Because I left him? He was just
going to let me rot down here because he got dumped for being a
shitty husband?
I wouldn’t put it passed him. He was an egomaniac. Hell hath
no fury like Ricky Gage’s wounded ego.
Or … could it be that he knew that Hayjack was coming after
him? What if he somehow found out about Hayjack and his friends,
or whatever they were, and knew that Hayjack had talked to me?
What if he knew that I had told Hayjack everything I knew?
I argued back and forth with myself, passing the hours. There
was no way he could have known what I said to Hayjack. It was in
the confines of the Y, and Hayjack had only just left when I’d
decided to go for a walk. There was no way that Ricky could know
what I told my former lover. The only way he would have an inkling
was if he, or one of his guys, saw Hayjack leave the YWCA, and if
Ricky knew that I was there.
Sometimes I convinced myself that it was completely
conceivable that Ricky had somehow had my room bugged or that
he had one of the other women on his payroll and she’d ratted me
out. Other times I thought I was just being crazy, that this was
simply Ricky’s own craziness to get me back. And sometimes, very
rarely through my cycles of thoughts, I considered the possibility
that this had nothing to do with Ricky at all, that I had become a
victim of human trafficking.
I circled the possibilities in an endless and infuriating loop,
never finding an answer but always finding more questions, most of
which were honing in on my own mind’s reliability.
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Kidnapped by the Beast Bear Justice

MC 6 1st Edition Ruby Knoxx

Tamed by the Beast Bear Justice MC 7 1st Edition Ruby

Rocked by the Beast Bear Justice MC 9 1st Edition Ruby

Rescued by the Beast Bear Justice MC 5 1st Edition Ruby

Claimed by the Beast Bear Justice MC 4 1st Edition Ruby

Sold to the Beast Bear Justice MC 1 1st Edition Ruby

Mated to the Beast Bear Justice MC 2 1st Edition Ruby

Secret Baby of the Beast Bear Justice MC 8 1st Edition

Alpha Wolf (Silvercoast Wolves #1) 1st Edition Ruby

A Bear Shifter Romance

Bear Justice MC Book 6

Copyright © 2020 by Ruby Knoxx.

There was something pleasant about Pennsylvania, that I

“Sharon,” a woman with short blond hair said, extending her

The room wasn’t much. But it was affordable, and, most

It was Razzer who was taking the lead on this assignment,

I was standing in front of the YWCA. I had no idea why I’d

I nearly ran when I heard my name, and I certainly didn’t

It was a long conversation and hard to go through. Hayjack

I couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t often that we got a hotel room, and

It would have felt cliché if the sheer terror of it wasn’t

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