Sheltered By The Soldier. Lisa Harris

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       ONE

      Gabriella Kensington balanced her eleven-month-old daughter Mia on her hip while fighting to get the key into the sticky lock of the back door of her townhouse. The next time she went out, she was going to have to buy a can of WD-40 and fix it. She considered setting the two plastic grocery bags hanging from her wrist down on the porch, but the three inches of snow that had blanketed the city last night from a late fall cold front had left the mostly uncovered surface both slippery and wet.

      But she’d worry about that another day.

      She wiggled the handle, heard the click, then finally opened the door. Heat from the house rushed out and filled her lungs with warmth.

      Gabby stepped inside as an unexpected chill sliced through her. Setting the two plastic bags of groceries onto the counter, she glanced around the kitchen, managing to knock one of the bags over in the process. A grapefruit rolled off the counter and onto the floor, but she hardly noticed.

      Instead, she stared into the living room that opened up from the kitchen. The entire room had been trashed. Papers had been dumped from her desk. Drawers pulled open and their contents dumped. Books and photos lay scattered across the hardwood floor. Mia started fussing. Gabby had no idea if whoever had done this was still somewhere in the house, but there was no time to find out.

       This can’t be happening.

      But the frightening text she’d received two days ago, demanding her to stop asking questions and threatening her and her daughter, only served to confirm her worst fears. Adrenaline pumping, she hushed her daughter who was struggling to get down. She couldn’t take any chances in case someone was still in the house. Not with Mia. Instead, she raced back to the car, fumbled with the straps on the car seat while Mia’s fussing grew louder.

      “It’s okay, sweet baby. Nothing’s going to happen to you. Mama’s going to make sure of that.”

      A lump swelled in her throat as she slid into the car. She wanted to pray, except she knew God didn’t always answer prayers. If someone was after her, she was on her own.

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