Can Maddi keep Kat safe and protect her own heart?: A Safe Place (Philly Heat Series) Romantic Suspense by Becky Flade Preorder Sale & Giveaway
Can Maddi keep Kat safe and protect her own heart?
A Safe Place
Philly Heat Series #6
by Becky Flade
Genre: Romantic Suspense
15-year-old runaway Kat Anderson witnesses a gruesome murder. Social worker Maddi O’Hara is called in to provide emergency housing for the flight risk teen.
While Maddi works to reunite Kat and her brother, Nathaniel, it becomes clear the man the police are looking for is hunting Kat. As the danger escalates, Nate finds himself falling in love with the woman protecting his little sister.
Tragedy and betrayal are everywhere. Does Maddi have the courage to accept the chance at the family she’s being offered? Or will a murderer make the decision for her?
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Kat’s
breath chuffed out in frosty clouds as icy wind howled through the narrow alley
nestled between the towering brick wall of a Trader Joe’s and a run-down
church. Hidden behind a sagging chain-link fence wrapped in tarp and weathered
signs boasting People for the Steeple, she rubbed her numb hands
together, hoping to feel something. Gaps in the fence allowed slivers of
moonlight to pierce through, casting eerie shadows her imagination built into
creeping beasts. Her stomach growled, as the monsters couldn’t.
She
clenched her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering then wiped her running nose
on her sleeve and tried, again, to sleep. She had a house, half hers by law. A
warm, cozy place with locks on the doors, running water, and beds. Her bed sat
empty in her room, which was full of her books and puzzles. The knowledge made
sitting there, hiding in a construction zone, in the cold, a thousand times
worse. But if she went home they’d find her.
Kat
didn’t know she’d drifted off until the voices woke her.
“Give
it to me,” a man said.
“My
money first,” another responded.
The
voices were hushed, but the first man’s anger was clear. The second man’s voice
quivered. Sounded fearful. Kat lowered herself, shrunk back into the church’s
shadow, hugging her backpack close to her chest as she tried to make herself
smaller. If they found her…
A
muffled thump, like something heavy falling, followed in the silence. Scrunched
down as she was, Kat could see a small duffel bag on the ground through a tear
in the tarp. A man came into view, bent over the duffel. Light glinted, and she
blinked as it reflected into her eyes. The man’s hand came up to his throat.
Something dark and wet pumped through his fingers. He gurgled and quietly fell
to the sidewalk.
Kat
scrambled back, and the rubber soles of her sneakers squeaked on the pavement.
The fence rattled, and a man dropped to his feet in front of her. The knife in
his hand dripped. Time froze. He was tall and beefy, with a saggy chin like the
guy down the street from her grandmother’s house who drank too much and sang
off-key. But unlike Mr. Grady, this man had mean eyes under thick, graying
eyebrows.
She
shifted onto the balls of her feet and sprung as he lunged. Swinging her pack
over one shoulder, she vaulted the stone banister and ran toward Broad Street.
Hurdled buckets of plaster and paint, then darted around an upended
wheelbarrow. He followed, crashing into things as he went. Her heart pounded.
Kat scooted and slid through a hole in the fence. It was too small for him to
follow. It was barely big enough for her to squeeze through. Something burned
across her cheek and yanked her hair, jerking her head back.
Hair
tore from her scalp as she pumped her legs. Kat exploded onto Broad Street.
Didn’t dare look back. She scanned right and left. Cops! She
ran toward them, ignored the people she bumped into and pushed out of her way.
She skidded to a stop where two officers stood talking with steam rising from
paper cups clutched in their hands and City Hall looming behind them.
“Hey,
kiddo, where’s the fire?” the younger of the two asked.
“He
killed him,” she panted. “He killed him.”
“Get
home, girlie, it’s late.” The other, an older man who reminded her of the one
chasing her, looked away. She swung out. Her hand struck his arm. Coffee
spilled down the front of his uniform. “Son of a bitch! You asked for this,
brat. You’re under arrest.”
“Sherman,
come on, man. Let it go. Look at her.”
“Screw
that.” He crushed the paper cup, tossed it in a nearby trash can, and unhooked
his handcuffs.
The
light from the streetlamps glinted off the metal. They clicked like angry crabs
dangling from his hand as he reached for her. I could run. The fat
one wouldn’t follow or not for long. The younger didn’t want to arrest her but
if he ran after her, he’d catch her. Nausea twisted Kat’s empty stomach. She
looked over her shoulder. The man with the mean eyes stared back from half a
block away. Safer with the cops. Kat held her hands out, palms up,
like she’d seen on television.
When I was little, I thought everyone had stories in their head. When I found out only special people had stories to tell, I wanted to be one of the magical ones who shared their stories with the world. I wrote my first book in kindergarten with the help of my teacher, Mrs. Daniels. My mom – my biggest fan and most ardent supporter – has that little crayon-drawn book tucked into the pages of her family bible. It took almost thirty years to get from there to published but here I am, making my own dreams come true, one happily ever after at a time.
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