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  “Got it.”

  So he’d kept watch not only in his office but also on his phone screen. And saw what he feared—Nella in trouble.

  He’d rounded up Telma and Camp immediately and rushed to the reception room, scared he would be too late.

  But he couldn’t be prouder. Nella had come through herself. She had sicced Spike on Warren and gone after Jon—and could have gotten shot much too easily.

  But her way of doing it with the dog, and her own police training as she attacked... Well, it was still a good thing that he and the other managers arrived when they did.

  And yes, it had all worked out.

  Nella was fine. Thanks to the confessions of Jon and Warren, Scott felt nearly certain there would be no more threats.

  And Nella could now stay at the shelter and feel comfortable about it. She would be safe.

  And he would be glad.

  They went inside the station, where they first met with Vince. Yes, the two suspects were in custody. They would remain in solitary confinement so they couldn’t announce to the world or anyone else, except their lawyers, the real purpose of the Chance Animal Shelter.

  More meetings after that, where other police department members, including Chief Sherm, Assistant Chief Kara, K-9 Officers Maisie and Doug, and others, congratulated them both on a job well done.

  Nella and he were, after all, still cops at heart.

  Dan had arrived before they left and began talking with the officers in charge about his role and Jon’s with the LAPD—and how he would cooperate in any way he could to ensure justice was done. He also swore, while looking straight at Nella, that he would ensure that the remaining gang members would be caught fast.

  Which proved to Scott that Nella had a good friend in Dan.

  Dan told her that he still hoped, someday, to open a shelter like the one in Chance—but without anyone to help, it would remain a dream for the moment.

  Dan talked for a while longer with those in charge at the Chance PD.

  Before too long, Scott, Nella and Spike were on their way back to the shelter.

  * * *

  It was as if someone had planned a welcome home party. Nella was thrilled to see all the staff members with leashed dogs in the central area when Scott and she got back to the shelter, and Telma and Camp were with them.

  So was a woman Nella didn’t know but believed to be Dr. Brenda Moran, the therapist. She’d glimpsed her that one time between patients outside the room she used for her sessions—in her thirties, blonde, nice-looking and grinning now as if she meant it. Nella had considered scheduling a time with her, but now didn’t think she’d need it. Any PTSD she’d had was surely under control.

  The whole crowd cheered when Scott and she and Spike joined them.

  They also, Bibi at the helm, demanded to hear what had happened—and how Warren had been involved.

  No need to hold anything back. A lot of it was captured on the security cameras’ footage anyway.

  Everyone seemed impressed—and grateful. Their positions here, in protective custody, had been saved.

  Eventually, the crowd dispersed. Nella determined to turn the scant rest of the day into something ordinary—but she didn’t really want to leave Scott’s company. And so she worked upstairs for a while on her computer, researching to see when and if any site picked up on what had happened here and the arrests that were made.

  Or anything new about the shelter.

  Fortunately, she found nothing. And, checking with Scott a little later, he confirmed that the techs at the Chance PD hadn’t located anything worrisome either but were ready to do counterposts if necessary.

  After working a while longer in his office, Scott popped into hers and told her some good news. It wasn’t a done deal yet, but he had found a veterinarian he thought would be a great fit for the shelter—working with both animals and people. They’d talked on the phone, but there was more to come before a decision was made.

  For a short while, since it was very late in the afternoon, Nella did some initial vetting of a few potential adopters Scott told her about. Then she went out to walk Spike, who’d remained with her, and do some more training demonstrations.

  Yes, she had rewarded Spike handsomely with treats for his wonderful K-9 help earlier, though she doubted he understood that he had done anything but what he should have—obeyed her commands.

  Camp had apparently gone out to buy some wine that afternoon, so at dinner there were a lot of happy toasts.

  Then it was evening.

  Nella put Spike in his enclosure near other dogs for the night. She enjoyed having him around, but he was here not for her, but for helping out at the shelter—and, as much as she adored him, someday even getting his own perfect forever home, though he was a senior. Still, she gave him a big hug before leaving him—and realized she’d most likely keep him close on other nights, as she had before.

  Nella assumed Scott would at last return to his own home that night. He didn’t need to stay here with the excuse of protecting her.

  After checking on all the animals one last time, Scott did hang out with her and others in the upstairs community room in the apartment building and watched a little TV. The staffers began to say good-night and leave.

  “Guess it’s time to head to my apartment, too,” Nella finally said when they were the last ones remaining. “Are you staying here?”

  “No, I thought I’d go home tonight. It’s been a while.”

  “Good idea,” Nella said, even as her heart plummeted.

  Taking care of her had been a good excuse, but the need for that was over.

  Spending this night alone—well, it made sense, though the idea made her sad.

  “But you’re coming with me, I hope,” he said, surprising her, making her smile, reaching out his hand to clasp hers. “I think we made it clear to everyone that things are returning to normal, and that they need to immediately call one of the managers if anything happens in the middle of the night that needs attention. But I at least implied that though we remain on duty 24-7, we don’t need to hang out here all the time, don’t you agree?”

  “I...maybe.” Nella knew her voice was hoarse, and she was highly conscious of the feeling of Scott’s large, warm hand holding hers. She grasped his, as well.

  His beautiful blue eyes stared into her face, and his smile caused her to feel all hot and sensual and emotional.

  “Then, if all goes as I hope it will,” Scott said, “we can bring the supplies I brought to you at your place to mine soon. And we’ve hopefully learned some things about managing this place in the future.”

  “Yes, and I think I’ve got some further ideas about improving the way we handle things, including both our staff members’ duties and the animals, and keeping things even more secure, and—” Nella hoped she didn’t sound critical, because she wasn’t. She loved this place as it was, and wanted to help it become even better.

  “And it sounds as if you plan to stay here for a long time,” Scott said.

  Nella nodded, looking up at him. “Forever.” Meaning it. She loved this place, and her career as a cop had come to an end—unless, of course, she could get hired by the Chance PD while she worked at the shelter, as Scott and the other managers did.

  “Good. Forever.” He bent down, and their kiss suggested... Yes, forever. “So hopefully you will also wind up staying soon in my house, too...forever.”

  “Let’s start with tonight,” she said hoarsely. “And then we’ll see.”

  “Sounds good,” he said, and, hand in hand, they headed toward the stairway that would take them downstairs—and, Nella hoped, toward forever.

  * * *

  Look for the next book in Linda O. Johnston’s Shelter of Secrets miniseries coming soon from Harlequin Romantic Suspense!

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  Prologue

  If it wasn’t for the excruciating pain shooting up and down her leg to the point that her eyes were filling with tears, Nicole Colton would have been utterly furious with herself.

  Of all the stupid things she had done in her life—and there had been a number of them over the last fifty-eight years—this definitely took the cake.

  She felt like the pathetic embodiment of that awful commercial she had always felt was created for no other reason than to embarrass and humiliate older people—she steadfastly refused to use the term “senior citizen”—and make them feel clumsy and utterly inept. The fact that she was here, sprawled out on the floor after inadvertently taking a slip because of a wet spot, was exceedingly aggravating.

  Especially since she found that she was unable to pop right back up the way she usually did. The pain was just too agonizing.

  The cutting words “I’ve fallen and can’t get up” kept echoing through Nicole’s head even as she literally dragged herself across the living room floor until she could grasp the side of the sofa. She tried to pull herself up but failed. All but completely drenched in sweat from her effort, Nicole paused, panting hard and trying to regroup as she desperately searched for a second wave of strength.

  “Okay, Nic, you can do this,” she said through clenched teeth, urging herself on even as another sharp wave of pain sliced right through her. “You raised three boys on your own, started your own business. You can certainly get up off the floor on your own.”

  It wasn’t easy.

  Several pain-filled minutes later, Nicole finally managed to get herself up to her knees at the sofa cushion. But rather than stand up, she could only get herself into a half-lying position and then roll painfully over, all the while biting her lip to keep the cries from emerging and echoing throughout her large house.

  Breathing hard, Nicole finally managed to get into a sitting position. When she did, she was all but panting from the exertion.

  “Okay, I lied,” she said, her face dripping with perspiration. “I can’t do this.”

  Instead of going away, the pain multiplied by leaps and bounds, bordering on unbearable. Although she hated the thought, she had to admit that she had definitely broken something. Moreover, she resigned herself to the fact that she was going to have to call someone and ask for help. Something that went against absolutely every fiber of her being.

  But there was no way around it.

  Nicole was sweating profusely now. Admitting to weakness was just not in her makeup. She was the one who went out of her way to hold everything together, the one who worked nonstop and still had time to cheer on her sons—her biological son, Aaron, and Aaron’s two half brothers, whom she had taken in when they were barely seven and eight—in their endeavors.

  They were her ex-husband’s sons she had opted to care for when their mother died and her ex decided they were dragging him down. She treated them like her own and made certain that these “endeavors” they undertook were of their choosing and not hers.

  Her catering business was a success. Things were finally going so well—and now this, she thought as a new wave of disgust washed over her.

  Her head began to spin. The pain got much worse.

  Okay, time to get someone here to help her, as much as she hated the idea. Thank heavens she usually kept her cell phone with her. That had more to do with her catering business than anything else, but right now, Nicole was truly grateful that she had slipped her phone into her pocket this morning.

  Taking a breath to steady herself and to keep the pain at bay long enough to make the call, she pressed the keys that would connect her to Aaron’s phone.

  She definitely wasn’t looking forward to this conversation.

  Her oldest son ran a gym and she quite honestly didn’t expect him to even hear his phone, much less answer it. But to her surprise, Aaron picked up after the fifth ring.

  Just by chance, Aaron Colton was about to make a call when he felt the phone vibrate in his hand. When he saw the name on the screen, he had a really bad feeling about what he was about to hear.

  His mother never called him when she knew he was working.

  Turning away from the boxing ring, Aaron blocked out all the other noises in the gym as he answered the call.

  “Mom? What’s wrong?”

  More than anything in the world, Nicole Colton hated admitting to weakness. But the pain was making it really difficult to even breathe now.

  Still, she protested, “What...makes...you...think...anything...is...wrong?”

  If he hadn’t thought there was anything wrong before, he did now. The pain he heard in his mother’s voice unnerved him.

  He signaled to his assistant to take over as he quickly made his way to the door. “Tell me where you are, Mom. I’m coming to get you,” he promised.

  Copyright © 2021 by Harlequin Books S.A.

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  ISBN-13: 9780369713629

  Her Undercover Refuge

  Copyright © 2021 by Linda O. Johnston

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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