Page 2 of Second Chance Savior

I got up from my seat. “Thanks for this, Gen. I’ll look into the other names here. See what else I can find for you. I’ve got something else to do. You can see yourselves out.”

I went into my bedroom and shut the door, resting my back against it.

“Get a fucking hold of yourself,” I whispered.

I still heard my friends in the main room, murmuringquietly. Probably wondering what the hell that had just been about.

That was the thing about emotional responses. They became weaknesses. A lever that someone else could use against you.

And Charlie McKinley had always been mine.

CHAPTER ONE

River

Trace:

Riv, you haven’t been to Last Refuge since last week. Working on something new?

Are you alive?

Where the hell are you?

Answer my messages. If I don’t get proof of life, I’m showing up unannounced. I know how much you love that.

Sighing,I wiped a hand over my face and rubbed my eyes beneath my glasses.

It was light outside, but aside from that fact, I wasn’t sure what time it was. Or the date, except for the fact that it had been at least three days since Genevieve and Owen had left my apartment. Or four?

Time was a funny thing. Sometimes it moved so fast, even I couldn’t keep track.

It had been a quick eight months since I’d left the CIA to move to Hartley, Colorado. Since I’d joined the Last Refuge Protectors. Essentially, we were vigilantes. Helping those with nowhere else to turn. When we’d learned of Stillwaterand their dirty dealings in Hartley, the discovery had lit a fire under me that I hadn’t experienced in a decade at least. A new challenge for the right cause.

Then the nameCharlotte McKinleyhad fallen from Genevieve’s lips, and time had frozen. Rewound in my head.

My pulse thrummed erratically at my neck. I hadn’t spoken to her in years. But Charlie couldn’t have…no. There was no way she’d have anything to do with Stillwater.

I just wished I could prove it.

A couple of deep breaths, and I was steady again. My phone had been making noises for a while now, so I checked my messages, finding a slew from Trace. The latest had come in a few minutes ago. He’d threatened to come check on me.

Me:

Don’t pull from my playbook

Trace:

FINALLY. I’ve been texting you for days. What’s going on?

Busy

You forgot what day it is, didn’t you?

Yes

FFS. It’s my sister’s birthday. You’d better not miss tonight.

When was Jessi’s birthday? Hell if I knew.

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