by E L Thorne
Protection at Nightfall
Other Worlds Forever
E.L. Thorne
Copyright © 2020 by E.L. Thorne
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Created with Vellum
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Epilogue
About E.L. Thorne
Protection at Nightfall
Other Worlds Forever Book 1
This is a closed door, clean, supernatural suspense version of Elle Thorne's Shifter Realms books. The language has been toned down and the books have been specifically reworked for those who do not particularly enjoy open door romances.
Chelsea works at a salon in Bear Canyon Valley. She gets butterflies when Grant's around. But she's got her own baggage. She’s got a secret she’s running away from. Plus, she thinks that Grant would be better off with the local, stunning, curvy, widowed-way-too-early Mae Forester.
Grizzly bear shifter Grant Waters wants one woman--Curvy Chelsea O'Reilly. He's wanted her since they met. Except he's worried his secret may be too much for her. It may be what sets her running.
Chapter One
Chelsea
No.
No, no, no.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.
I had a plan—part of a plan, anyway.
Hidden money.
A hidden suitcase.
I was ready to go whenever the time was right.
But in my head, it was supposed to be in the middle of the night. While he was asleep. Or while he was at work.
Or out with his friends, who I had suspected for a long time were more than friends. He wasn’t talking about his partner and his buddies from the department. Not always.
Maybe not ever.
It hadn’t mattered in such a long time. I was beyond the point of hurting by then.
Not in my heart, anyway. Not emotionally.
“What… what did you do…?”
The sound of his dazed, thick voice lit a fire under me. There was no time to waste or curse the way things had played out.
I flung open the closet door and noticed the red handprint I left on the knob. My stomach turned and threatened to toss up the dinner we were in the middle of before things got bad.
There was no time for that. No time to fall apart. He wouldn’t be down for long.
Of all people, I knew how strong he was.
Before I knew it, I was in the bathroom, washing my hands. Scrubbing them. The water went from red to pink and finally to clear. My nails were clean. There was nothing under them anymore.
Why had I even tried to help him up from the floor?
A panicky giggle bubbled up in my chest. There was nothing funny about this, but I wanted to laugh. Why? Was I losing it? Was I falling apart?
“Where are you…?” A crash from the kitchen startled me into moving again. There was barely time to notice my stricken, haunted face in the bathroom mirror.
I didn’t even feel the bruise rising on my cheekbone, or my swollen lip.
This time, when I grabbed for the bag hidden behind a stash of feminine hygiene products, my hands were clean.
That was the only way I could make sure he’d never find my clothes, cash and burner phone. By hiding them there, since he would’ve rather cut off his hand than touch that sort of stuff to look behind it. Such a big, strong man.
Such a coward.
It was time to go. The clock was ticking and my shaking legs sent me staggering out of the bedroom, down the hall.
Past the kitchen.
It hit me in images. Impressions.
Bits of broken dishes that had been smashed on the floor. Food mixed in with the mess, food I had taken a long time with. The way I had always taken care when cooking for him, since the littlest thing could set him off.
The metallic smell of blood.
The overturned chair. He must’ve tried to get up but couldn’t. If he hadn’t freaked out like he did, he wouldn’t have slipped in his own blood and knocked himself senseless.
I held my breath, looking beyond the chair. Hoping, praying I would find him lying there. That there’d be more than a smeary pool of blood on the floor.
That he hadn’t gotten up. That he wasn’t waiting for me.
Waiting to kill me.
There he was. Facedown on the floor. Still breathing. Muttering, half-conscious. His injured cheek was pointed up toward the ceiling so I could see the damage I’d caused.
He would have a scar.
Poor baby.
A sick, terrified laugh threatened to burst out of me. I clamped a hand over my mouth and ran the rest of the way to the front door, then down the hall and out to the parking lot.
I was doing this. I was actually doing it. How many times had I imagined this? Every step, every move. The details were never quite like this, though.
I had never imagined stabbing him.
Sure, I had wished I could. So many times. But I had never dreamed…
There was only so far a person could be pushed.
I locked the doors once I was inside and peeled out of the lot. This would be the scariest time. The most crucial.
A lot of good it would do me to get myself caught by the cops. And if Derek managed to rouse himself enough to put in a call, no doubt they would be coming for me. I wouldn’t make it out of town, much less out of the state if I didn’t get away right now.
Which meant my instinctive need to put as much distance between myself and the small town in which my now ex-boyfriend was a police officer had to be calmed. The drive to slam my foot on the gas pedal and run every red light between me and the interstate couldn’t be indulged.
It wasn’t until I was only a few blocks from the on-ramp that I started to think I’d pulled it off. I had gotten away.
Maybe I had Derek to thank for that, in a bizarre way.
If he hadn’t come at me with murder in his eyes, I wouldn’t have gone for the knife. Never, not in all the times he’d hit me and hurt me and screamed with his face an inch away from mine, had I considered going for a knife.
I might’ve wished I could, but I never could find it in me.
I was never that desperate, that sure he would kill me if I didn’t stop him.
Until that very night, in the kitchen.
And all because the man who owned the corner store had told him to say hi to me. A man old enough to be my father, or practically. The sort of thing normal, reasonable people did all the time.
That was all it had taken for the accusations to start flying.
And then the plates.
There was plenty of loose change in my purse, another way I’d been planning for this. Always having enough coins and small bills on hand for tolls in case I had to run. I tossed a few coins into a basket and merged into traffic.
Before I knew it, I was lost in a sea of cars. Just anoth
er driver.
But I would’ve bet good money none of them were in my position. Running for their lives with the cash they’d managed to sock away over months. Wondering where to go next.
I had to get out of the state. That much was clear.
After that, though?
Strange, but in the middle of the deepest panic I had ever known in my whole life, there was the tiniest sense of freedom. I could choose for myself now, within reason. I had to pick a quiet place, sure, but there were so many to pick from.
I could start a new life.
First came the matter of getting out of Texas.
Chapter Two
Chelsea
I had to get out of New Mexico.
Checking the rear-view mirror, I tried to make out the car that had followed me from the salon where I had only worked for six days. There was no reason for anybody to follow me so closely or for so long.
Was I being paranoid?
Was it paranoia when I’d spotted Derek behind the wheel of a truck in Oklahoma City?
Or when the same beat-up Corolla had passed my apartment outside of Wichita enough times for me to take notice? If I hadn’t been sitting by the window at the time, I never would’ve made it out.
And I just knew I hadn’t been imagining things when I caught sight of the man who’d followed me all the way across Albuquerque. The scar running down his cheek.
Always a different car. But the same man, bearing the same wound.
Where was I supposed to go? Where could I ever go that he wouldn’t find me again?
Just then, the more pressing problem was getting away from him. Losing him. I had to make it to the interstate. I could blend in there.
What if it isn’t him? I couldn’t shake the question nagging at the back of my mind. What if you’re running away from shadows?
No time for that. Better to be paranoid than to be dead.
And I had no doubt that was what he had in mind.
I was just outside Denver by the time I had to stop and refill the tank five hours after deciding to keep driving instead of going home.
One trick I’d picked up, having a full gas tank at all times, so I wouldn’t have to stop too soon. Inevitably, anybody following me would have to refill, and I’d have that much more time to get away.
Another trick, the go bag stashed in the trunk. After running twice at the last minute, I’d decided keeping a bag in the car would help save time in the future. No need to hang around the apartment packing or go home to get my things.
In the bag was a handful of maps which I pulled out, then spread over the car’s hood while eating what I could scrounge up at the rest stop.
Was it a mistake to keep picking bigger towns and cities? I’d have to go smaller and hope there’d be work for me. Maybe stopping off for a little while in a small town, just long enough to get my bearings and do some research into other small towns further away, would be better.
There I was, thinking I’d be able to blend into a big city and lose myself. Silly me.
One name practically leapt up at me. My eyes kept going back to it again and again. It was at least an hour away from the nearest city, surrounded by woods. Why did the name appeal to me so much?
It didn’t matter. So long as I had a destination.
Moments later I was behind the wheel again, ready to make the drive to Bear Canyon Valley.
Chapter Three
Grant
I picked up the pace. Not that I was anxious to see Chelsea. Okay, yes, I was. I’d been seeing Chelsea O’Reilly every three weeks for the past two months, ever since she first moved to town.
On a professional level, of course.
Only. Not that I wouldn’t love to see her more often.
Damn, the thought of that got my engine revving. I’d better control that before I walked into the hair salon where she worked. The last thing I needed was to scare her off.
A glance at my watch confirmed my appointment was in five minutes. I took a deep breath of the cool winter air, then let it out slowly and tried to think of anything that would make my interest in her less obvious.
Good luck with that.
Might as well go in and see her. And get my hair cut. Right, the reason I claimed to go see her for.
I clicked the fob, locking the door on my pickup, then ran my fingers through hair that didn’t really need a cut yet. And never really needed a cut when I scheduled my appointments. And yet I did. Every three weeks, like clockwork, I was back. Back for more Chelsea.
“Grant.”
I turned toward the voice.
Mae Forester, the salon owner, called my name. Seemed she was headed toward the salon, too.
“Not working today?” I asked her.
“Needed to pick up a couple of supplies.” She raised a bulky box an inch or two, then settled it against her torso again.
“Let me help you with that.” I stepped her way and relieved her of the burden.
She looked at my hair, cocked her head, and a tiny smile played on her lips. “Is it already time for another cut?”
I nodded and waited for her teasing. She enjoyed picking on me for coming in so often. “It was on the calendar.” As if I hadn’t been the one who put it there.
“When are you going to ask her out? You’ll save a lot of money on haircuts.”
“You want me to save money on haircuts? Seems like that would cut into your income.”
“And that would worry me?” Another smile from Mae.
I knew the income didn’t matter to her. She was well off financially. Set for life, as she’d told me when I asked her if she’d be okay after she lost her husband. Owning the beauty salon allowed her to pursue her other interests.
Namely, helping others.
I exhaled, watching my breath puff smoky clouds in the cold air. “Maybe today will be the day. I’m not sure if she’s as interested...” I shifted the box to one hand and opened the door to the salon with the other.
“You have doubts? You?”
“Not that impossible to believe, is it?” I shook my head at the hopelessly romantic matchmaker that Mae was and stood aside so she could precede me into her shop.
My kind mated for life. And life to my kind meant forever. It was no small thing to ask a human to commit to a life with a shifter—forever.
Mae was no stranger to that. She’d lost her shifter husband many, many years ago and had never taken another.
Chapter Four
Chelsea
I checked the clock for the fiftieth time since 10:00 a.m. Grant Water’s appointment was at 11:00, in three minutes.
Three minutes!
A warm flush ran through my body, a surge of excitement to see him again. I gazed in the mirror, then pulled my smock off. I turned, peering over my shoulder at my backside in the mirror. Jeez, what I wouldn’t give to have a smaller bottom. I shot an envious glance toward the hairdresser in the next station over—probably a size 2.
Then I looked at my own derriere. Grant would never give me a second glance.
Yet, he was kind of flirty... So maybe?
Or maybe he’s just being nice to his hairdresser. My nasty little inner voice promptly put me back in place. Don’t go getting your hopes up.
“Your regular should be here in a few, right?” said Lana. You know, the size 2 next to me.
“I’m not sure.” Liar. All six-foot-four inches, wide shoulders, and piercing blue eyes of his would be here any second. My cheeks grew warm, and I chanced another peek in the mirror. Great. That embarrassing red color was creeping its way up my chest to my face.
The sound of the door opening and closing brought me back to the present.
I busied myself with the scissors, dryers, and brushes at my station, pretending I wasn’t expecting or anxious to see him.
Okay, hopeless. Of course, I looked forward to seeing him. I had ever since the first haircut I’d given him, one week after I took this job, which seemed like ages ago.
&n
bsp; Even if it never seemed like he was particularly in need of a haircut. How much could hair grow in three weeks?
Some people liked to stay well-groomed.
That’s what I told myself, the only thing I would let myself believe.
Because believing he was interested in anything other than looking his best would only end up getting me into trouble.
No way was he interested in me.
Chapter Five
Grant
I set the box on the reception desk, then closed the door behind me, trying not to be too loud and bring attention to myself.
“See you later, Miss Mae.” I gave her a smile and headed toward Chelsea’s station.
Mae gave me a coquettish smile. She seemed to enjoy that I called her Miss Mae, though she didn’t look a day over thirty. I was hoping to escape from Lana’s blatant flirting before I was situated in Chelsea’s care.
Whoa! The first thing I saw was Chelsea, arranging things at her station. I paused, taking my time to enjoy the sight. By the heavens above, that was one tantalizing view.
Chelsea whirled around. “Grant.” Her voice was breathless and low.
I wished the way she’d said my name had been because of my entrance into the salon. I wished it was because of me. More likely, though, it was because she’d been leaning over and had stood up too quickly.
Her smile showed off perfect white teeth. I imagined those teeth grazing my skin, teasing me.