Wolf's Haven

by Ambrielle Kirk

  Wolf’s Haven

  by Ambrielle Kirk

  Copyright © Ambrielle Kirk, 2012

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, places, incidents, and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or person, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

  They who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night.

  ~ Edgar Allan Poe

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  "Are you in…or are you out?"

  Tamara glared at her fiancé. The demanding expression on Brad’s face was the same exact look he gave her when he wanted something. Only this time, no physical force followed. After all, they were surrounded by his partners in crime. He wouldn't dare lift a hand to strike her around other people. Brad wanted no one to know how much of a coward he was.

  Swallowing, she bit the corners of her lips. She’d waited for this opportunity for months. The chance to be free of the conniving bastard and the controlling dangerous life that he’d tricked her to lead.

  Her plans were already in place. All she had to do was make one call and her contact would be waiting. She would be free from this life.

  "Yes, I'm in." Her voice came out on hoarse whisper.

  "A ride or die chick." One of Brad's friends chuckled. "What does a guy have to do to get one of those nowadays?"

  Brad grabbed the duffle bag at his feet and grinned. "It's an acquired skill."

  If they only knew. Brad Thatcher wasn't the man he portrayed himself to be. Over the last ten months, he'd turned to heavy drinking each night. Then the verbal abuse turned into something much worse. She had something to show for being so vulnerable. The bruises on her skin. Now, she feared for her life. This situation had gone too far.

  Tamara had never envisioned being with a man who seemed to thrive off her pain. He was never going to get better. Her counselor had warned her of this. She'd even ticked off the list of warning signs to watch for in his behavior. Throwing jealous tantrums if she so much as looked at another man. Trying to control her every move and keeping her under lock and key. Verbal insults escalating into gripping her in the fit of rebellious rages. One after the other, the signs became clearer. Brad was an abuser. Of women, drugs, and alcohol. Yet she stayed.

  Her heart pounded uncontrollably as she contemplated the consequences. If she failed this escape, there would be hell to pay and she just might lose with her life. The last time she threatened to leave him, he'd freaked out. She still had the marks on her neck to show for it.

  "I need to use the bathroom before we leave." Tamara looked to Brad for his approval.

  "Ah man. We don't have time for this." Brad's second sidekick yelled from the driver's side of the vehicle. "We have to be at the museum during the shift change-over."

  Brad and his crew made their living as thieves. It was fast, easy money. They were bandits who ran from the law and walked on the edge. Her fiancé had hidden his shady side job from her while they dated. He'd painted himself to be the picture perfect husband to be, but he was a fake. Her normal boring life had been turned upside down.

  It all started when he lost his job for money laundering. She stood by her man back then. Had even persuaded him to pursue other careers, but Brad had alternative motives. Things got out of hand, and soon her husband-to-be turned out to be the fiancé from hell. By the time she caught on, she was in too deep.

  "I need to go," she repeated in a harsher tone. She'd pay for acting out like this later.

  "You better hurry." Brad’s lips formed a taut line. He turned his attention back to his crew. "She's the only one who can fit through the vent."

  As Tamara walked off to the bathroom in the back of the warehouse, they discussed strategy among themselves. After locking the door behind her, she retrieved a small cell phone from the sleeve of her boot. Her fingers shook as she flipped the lid. Just before punching in the numbers she'd remembered by heart, she exhaled.

  Tamara paced the cramped space of the one stall bathroom, praying for Selene to pick up the phone. This was her only hope. Just when she thought her plans would backfire, her counselor answered the phone.

  "Hello."

  The voice sounded groggy on the other end. At nearly two hours before midnight, she expected this much. She only hoped that Selene could still help her. It had been a while since she’d last spoken with the counselor.

  "Selene," she whispered into the phone. "It's me. Tamara."

  There was a bunch a ruffling on the other end. "Tamara. I haven't heard from you in three months. What's wrong? What happened?"

  "I'm ready."

  "Give me your location."

  "About ten miles south of Blue Hills, Virginia. Near an industrial area."

  Outside the door, she heard the van engine start. Brad shouted her name.

  "Selene…I don't have much time," Tamara whispered into the phone with urgency.

  "Wait. Let me get my laptop.” There was some fumbling on the other end. “I think I know where you are. Industry Park. Near the city. Shoot! I’m getting you out of there.” The sound of fingers tapping furious at the keyboard flowed through the phone line. “You are to board the next train out of the Westbed station. A man in a red cap will be waiting with your ticket.”

  Each time she'd called Selene, they'd discussed her getaway. She'd chickened out twice before. The promise of a new beginning and identity seemed like the life change she needed, but the consequences if she failed this escape loomed her conscience.

  "How—"

  Brad banged on the door. "Get your ass out here. Now."

  Tamara's heart jumped and her voice lodged in her throat. Brad jiggled the door handle and pushed against it. It rattled on the frames.

  She looked up at the small window. There wouldn’t be any escaping from here. Not even a small dog could pass through the bars.

  Darting over to the sink, she turned on the faucet. "I'll be right out. I'm just washing up."

  "Washing up, my ass." Using the weight of his body, Brad burst into the doors.

  Acting quickly, Tamara tossed the cell in the waste basket under the sink.

  He reached out and grabbed her by the forearm. "What the fuck are you doing in here?"

  She flinched as he tightened his grip, pinching her skin. "I was just washing my hands."

  "You're taking too long." He led her out of the bathroom, practically pushing her towards the waiting van. After shoving her inside, he slid the door closed. "Let's go." He jumped into the passenger seat.

  Tamara took a seat in the back of the van. Her palms stung, and she looked down to find her hands balled in a tight fist. Violence wasn't the answer. She wouldn't dare stoop to that level. So many times she'd wanted to hurt Brad. She hated him—despised him for making her afraid to fight back.

  She bent down and touched the hilt of the pocket knife hidden in her other boot just to make sure it was still there. The cell phone was gone. Now she only had the knife to protect herself. Last time, she threatened to use a weapon on him, he'd laughed in her face. Said that she wouldn't da
re kill him. He thought this was a game. She'd come to the realization that Brad loved to taunt her. It turned him on to see her in pain. But how far would he go? How far would he go until she ended up dead in a landfill?

  Tamara swallowed.

  The smoke from Brad’s cigarette wafted to the back of van when he opened the window to flick the ashes away. In the other hand, he had a bottle of vodka. As he took a swig of the poison that fueled his rage, a sense of hopelessness consumed her and she squeezed her eyes shut. She was tired of his perilous ways. Tired of feeling like a prison in a dreadful place.

  No matter what he'd done to her, it pained her to see him throw his life away in exchange for quick money, drugs, and alcohol. She had to get out of this relationship. She wanted to get out now.

  Chapter Two

  By the time they reached the city limits, Tamara’s hand ached from wringing them in fear and anticipation. Once she made a run for it, she would be alone in the world. All her big dreams had been crushed following the death of her parents. She’d become dependent on Brad, but what they had wasn’t love anymore. It was a relationship of convenience…and abuse.

  Brad slid the van door open, shattering her thoughts. She jumped down and her boots hit the pavement with a thud. The damp night air fueled her senses, and she breathed in deeply. She smelled her freedom, and she only had to act to gain it.

  He handed her a small black drawstring bag. “You know what to do?”

  “Cut the telephone line. Enter through the side vent,” she said, pulling the hoody over her head.

  He grinned. “Good girl. Do it in ten minutes, top.”

  Tamara nodded, and then pushed the start button on her stop watch. She tossed the bag over her shoulders, and jogged behind a building. The museum was the next block over, but if she cut across behind an adjacent storage lot, it would take her half the time to get there. Then she’d have two minutes to report the break in to the cops. It had to be timed just right. Brad and his crew would have to be inside the museum and the police on the way before she hauled ass. Once the museum was under lock down, there would be no way out.

  At the back of the building, she pulled a bobby pin from the bun secured at her nape and jimmied the lock. It gave way in a matter of seconds. The voices of the guards near the front of the building greeted her as the door swung open. She tiptoed inside, her heart about to burst from fear. Keys rattled and two doors slammed as the guards locked and secured the museum. They’d activated the security system, but she’d made it in just in time.

  After unarming the system, she took the stairs down to the basement level, and entered a small office. There was a phone on the wall near the door just as Brad had told her. He and his crew had mapped out the entire museum and planned the burglary for several days. While they’d been planning to commit a crime, she’d been planning to execute her escape.

  Tamara lifted the receiver with shaky fingers and punched the three digits that she should have used many times during her spats with Brad.

  It rang once before an operator answered. “Nine one one. What’s your emergency?”

  “I want to report a break-in,” Tamara whispered. “Hurry please.”

  “Give me the location, ma’am.”

  “Heritage Museum of Fine Arts.” She glanced down at her stop watch. Shit! Brad would be waiting at the back door now.

  “Are you okay, ma’am?”

  Tamara disconnected the call and raced toward the back of the museum. Her instincts proved to be correct. When she opened the back door, Brad and the other guy barged inside.

  “What took you so long?” He nudged passed her and shoved a bag into her arms. “You take the third floor. I’ll handle the safe.”

  Tamara paused, but only for a moment. She didn’t want to get herself away. What she hadn’t planned on was him asking her to help with bagging stuff. Her plan was to escape from the basement while they worked, but now she was stuck inside.

  After glancing at her watch, she began her trek up the stairs. It was now five minutes to midnight. She had no more time. The cops would be there in a matter of minutes. If she was caught inside, there was no doubt that she would go down with Brad and his crew.

  The window on the first floor opened with ease. She snatched the knife from the sleeve of her boot and cut through the screen. A gust of wind blasted her in the face as she tore the rest of it off.

  Sirens blared in the distance. They were coming.

  “Shit!” She was supposed to be out of here by now.

  As she looked down out of the third story window, she feared busting her head on the pavement more than she feared time in jail. The cat would be out of the bag soon. She’d set her fiancé up and if she didn’t haul ass now, she would pay.

  The panicked voices from the lower floor confirmed that Brad heard the cops approaching. Tamara climbed on the window sill, and gripped the panes for balance. She swallowed dry air and her heart tightened. Her choices were limited. Die on the asphalt below or rot in jail. Either way she was doomed, so she took the jump.

  When she hit the hard pavement, her legs gave out and buckled under her. Her body toppled over. In an attempt to keep her balance, she lifted her hands out in front of her. She’d saved herself from falling on her face, but her elbows and knees hit the rough gravel. She bit her lip to keep from crying out. As her bones throbbed in pain, she dragged herself toward some bushes. Blue lights flashed all around her, casting eerie shadows on the trees. Running through the forest was her only escape, but she needed to get a head start.

  Her hand connected with the wired fence. She was stuck.

  Her head swirled as the sirens and police radios echoed around her. Digging her fingers in the dirt, she managed to bring herself up to kneel. The bruises on her leg stung like someone had packed salt into it. She could stay huddled behind the bushes and pray the cops didn’t search there or she could come out from behind them to turn herself in. One thing was for certain; she wouldn’t get very far with a sprained ankle. And if she did, by the time she got to the station, her train would be gone.

  Tamara tried again to stand up, but the ache was unbearable. Something rustled in the bushes next to her, and she strained her ears to hear better over the noise and mayhem surrounding the museum.

  A low grumbling resonated behind her. The noise sounded like something that would come from a wild dog. She turned her head slowly in the direction of the sound. Her gaze met a pair of bright emerald eyes. A scream caught in her throat when she realized the eyes belonged to a huge wolf. Her heart halted.

  The wolf’s grumble turned to a growl. Now she was certain the devil existed. She was trying to escape to a better future, and her very life was threatened yet again. It wasn’t until a tear landed between her lips that she realized she was crying.

  “Nice…wolfie.” Tamara scooted back on her hands and knees away from the wolf.

  The wolf tilted its nose and glared at her. It stepped forward, sniffing the air around her. The head and shoulders were massive and the face broad. He had to be male. She wasn’t a stranger to wolves and had encountered them many times in the Virginia wilderness. But what was one doing out and about in the city?

  Her head turned in the direction of male voices. Cops. Had Brad and the others rat her out? She ducked lower as they came nearer.

  The wolf must have sensed her panic because he turned with ears perked up and sniffed the air behind it.

  “There’s another one around here someone,” the cop said. “He jumped from that open window up there.”

  Tamara squeezed her lips together, and kept her eyes on the wolf. For some reason, the wolf did nothing to bring attention to their location. Surely her cover would be blown if it so much as growled one more time.

  Suddenly the wolf moved forward slowly, and bowed its head with the nose nearly touching the ground. She recognized this as a gesture of submission. It was as if he understood her plight and pitied her.

  Tamara reached out slowly with her hand u
ntil she came in contact with the wolf’s face. The fur was surprisingly soft. He turned his face into her palm and sniffed loudly.

  “I’ve done something very bad, wolfie.”

  With shaky fingers, she reached up to stroke the side of his belly. Maybe she’d bumped her head on the pavement from the fall. Perhaps she’d even died and gone to Heaven as a result of the fall. Why else would she be allowed to stand within millimeters of a living breath wild wolf and not be mauled alive?

  The wolf lifted its head to make eye contact with her and came closer. He nudged at her forearm and moved so that they were side by side. That was when she glimpsed his size. He had to have been the biggest wolf she’d ever seen.