Chapter 2

CHAPTERTWO

It was taking every ounce of pride and strength for Cora Rooney not to burst into tears. She’d planned tonight so carefully. When she’d heard that one of the owners of The Refuge was going to be in Washington, DC, at a charity auction, she’d been elated. Like most people, she knew about the resort catering to those who suffered from PTSD. There had been a lot of articles written about the place—and the men who owned it—when it had first opened, and even now, more than five years later, they were still getting interviews and press coverage because of how generous they were with their time and money.

She’d been distressed enough to spend some of her own hard-earned money on a ticket to the gala tonight. She’d have preferred not to, wanted to hoard every dime to use for her main objective, but the gala was a means to an end…namely, the chance to have a conversation with one of the former special forces soldiers who owned The Refuge.

It was a desperate decision. She’d contacted private investigators, all of whom wanted too much money to take her case. Private security firms were out, for the same reason. Cora had even dug around on the Internet, trying to find a former police officer or FBI agent to consult, but the few she’d found made the hair on the back of her neck stand up, and not in a good way. They were quick to offer help, but like everyone else, demanded thousands of dollars—up front. Which made her think they were scammers.

If there was any other way to get help that didn’t require money she didn’t have, Cora would’ve taken it. But she was out of options. Even if the representative from The Refuge had refused to help her, at least she could say she’d tried everything.

Thinking about why she was at this auction in the first place made her heart hurt.

Lara.

She’d known her best friend since they were teenagers, so over twenty years now. Lara had been the only girl at school who’d tried to befriend Cora when she’d arrived as a newcomer in the tenth grade. Cora hadn’t fit into the upper-class school at all. A foster kid with no designer clothes, a bad attitude she wore like a shield, and an expectation that everyone would hate her on sight. She wasn’t exactly wrong on that last count…except for Lara.

Lara Osler had literally saved her life. Had overlooked her lack of money, lack of parents, and lack of trust for anyone and everyone, and simply taken her under her wing, not caring that their peers made fun of her for it behind her back.

They were opposites in so many ways. Lara was tall at five-ten, compared to Cora’s five foot five. Cora had boring brown hair, while Lara’s was shiny blonde. Cora was brash and didn’t hesitate to speak her mind. Lara was far more diplomatic and almost shy. Despite that, Lara fell for men hard and fast, convinced each one could be her happy-ever-after, while Cora was too distrustful to offer most guys more than a single night.

They were like oil and water, but somehow they’d immediately clicked. Despite their differences, or maybe because of them, Cora and Lara had become best friends. She owed Lara everything.

That was why she’d bought a dress and two-inch heels, attempted to put on some makeup, and attended this fancy shindig.

And she’d failed.

She hadn’t been sure she’d have enough money to win the man from The Refuge to begin with. The six thousand dollars she’d scrounged up was the most money she’d ever had in her bank account at one time. And she’d spend every dime to help Lara, even if no one other than Cora believed she actually needed help. And when most of the winning bids for the men in front of him had been in her range, she began to think she might have a chance.

The bidding had slowed at five thousand dollars, and for a second, Cora had thought she’d done it. That she’d won. That she was one step closer to helping her friend.

Then Eleanor Vanlandingham appeared, practically knocking Cora to the floor. From the second she realized who was standing next to her, Cora had known her nemesis from high school was going to ruin everything…and she’d been right. She didn’t know why the other woman hated her so much. She’d been a bitch back in high school, and she was still a bitch twenty-two years later. They didn’t run into each other often, but when they did, nothing good came out of it.

Like tonight.

Eleanor had crushed Cora’s plan with two little words. Ten thousand dollars was way above what she could afford to spend…more than she had in her account. She’d failed. She wouldn’t be able to talk to Mr. Clark, wouldn’t be able to try to convince him to help her.

Cora wanted to cry…and she wasn’t a crier. It never helped, only made her feel stuffed up and weak, and made her look like crap.

It wasn’t as if Eleanor even wanted a date with the man. He wasn’t her type. Not even close. Too rough around the edges, too many tattoos. Not pretty enough. Not a millionaire. The list went on and on.

But it didn’t matter. Eleanor simply wasn’t going to let Cora win something that she’d so desperately wanted.

She huffed out a breath as she blindly pushed through the crowd. She needed to get the hell out of there. No way was she going to give Eleanor the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

Detouring to the coat check area at the back of the grand ballroom, then down a short hall to the bathrooms, Cora locked herself inside one of the stalls and leaned against the wall as she desperately tried to keep despair from overwhelming her.

She’d been so sure she’d be able to convince Bryson Clark to help. All she needed was an hour or so to talk to him. To plead her case. The police hadn’t believed her. Lara’s own parents dismissed her concerns without thinking twice, and she’d exhausted all of her other options. But Cora knew down to her bones that her friend was in danger. An ex-special forces soldier could easily get to Lara. Talk to her. Find out if she was safe or not.

Taking a deep breath, Cora straightened. Fine, Eleanor might’ve ruined her plans tonight, but she still had six thousand bucks. She could fly out to New Mexico, go to The Refuge in person, and see if she could talk to one of the men who owned the place. It would be better if she could get a reservation for one of the cabins so she could seem like a visitor, but that was impossible. They were booked up for months.

Cora wasn’t even sure why she was so fixated on the men who ran The Refuge. They were no longer in the military. They all suffered from various degrees of PTSD. Hell, they were resort owners now, not mercenaries for hire or something. But from the moment she’d visited their website…seen their pictures and read their bios…something about the men had struck a chord deep within her. They’d all suffered, and yet they’d gone out of their way to help others. And from the news accounts she’d read about recent situations with some of the women who now lived and worked at The Refuge, the owners seemed to have a soft spot for women in peril.

So maybe, just maybe, they’d be willing to look into Lara’s situation. It was worth a shot. Cora would do whatever it took to help her friend.

She dismissed going straight to Phoenix to try to see Lara herself, because she had a feeling that would be an epic failure. She didn’t have the strength or skills needed to succeed. No, she needed someone like Mr. Clark or one of the other men who worked at The Refuge.

Deciding that going to The Refuge would’ve been a better plan than trying to win the auction anyway, Cora reached into the bag she’d checked earlier and began to change clothes. She’d never been one to dwell on the bad shit in her life; if she was, she wouldn’t be able to function. Her life had never been easy, and why she’d expected tonight to be any different was a complete mystery.

Cora quickly changed into the jeans, T-shirt, old, comfy sweatshirt, and sneakers that she’d brought with her, and stuffed the black dress and heels into the bag. She wasn’t stupid enough to ride back to her crappy part of town wearing something so nice. She’d be picked off by one of the many drug dealers or creeps who prowled the Metro looking for victims before she could blink.

She used the bathroom for good measure while she was there, then exited the stall. After washing her hands, Cora pushed open the restroom door and headed down the hall that led back into the ballroom. Her plan had been to slide out of there unnoticed by the crowd, whose attention was still on the stage for the ongoing auction. But of course, like all her carefully crafted plans that night, that was also destined to fail.

Eleanor Vanlandingham and two of her Barbie followers were waiting for her as soon as she stepped into the dim lights of the ballroom.

Of course, Eleanor looked beautiful in the dark green dress she’d poured herself into. The bitch duo flanking her, Valentina and Scarlett, also looked as perfect as ever in their almost-matching strapless black dresses and four-inch heels. Their makeup was perfectly painted onto their Botox-injected faces. Valentina rocked her curves, filling out her LBD like a Marilyn Monroe lookalike, while Scarlett was her opposite, rail thin like a runway model.

The trio might be beautiful on the outside, but they were rotten to the core. They took every opportunity to step on anyone they considered beneath them…which was just about everyone.

Eleanor didn’t give Cora the chance to speak, simply jumped in with the insults she was known to use every time she opened her mouth. If words were colors, Eleanor’s would’ve been pitch black.

“Yeah, that’s right, bitch, go back to the hole you crawled out of. I don’t know how you got a ticket for tonight’s event, but you aren’t good enough to be here.”

“Funny, my money’s just as green as yours, El,” Cora said, straightening her shoulders. Now that she was wearing clothes she was more comfortable in, she felt more sure of herself. As if she’d redonned her armor.

“What money?” Eleanor sneered. “Your dress was from Walmart, and those shoes you had on? You get those at Payless?”

Valentina and Scarlett giggled as if Eleanor had said the most hilarious thing ever.

Cora refused to be ashamed that Eleanor’s guesses on where she’d gotten her clothes and shoes were spot on. She’d been saving her money for more important things.

“Why are you such a horrible person?” Cora asked. “I mean, seriously, I would’ve thought you’d grown out of being a mean, bitchy, stuck-up snob after you graduated from high school. Instead, more than two decades later, you’ve just gotten worse. The world doesn’t revolve around you, El.”

“Stop calling me that,” Eleanor growled, taking a step closer.

Cora stood her ground. No way would she ever back down from this bitch. If she wanted to throw down right here, right now, Cora was ready. In fact, she wished she would. Eleanor would get her ass kicked in front of everyone, just like she deserved. She could take this stuck-up bitch in her heels and tight dress in a heartbeat. Hell, could take on Frick and Frack standing next to her, as well. All she needed was Eleanor to make the first move.

She’d learned the hard way that being the aggressor never turned out well after a fight…but if she was protecting herself, that was a different story.

But of course, Eleanor wouldn’t use physical force. Her words were her weapons.

“You’re trash, and you always will be, Cora Rooney,” Eleanor hissed. “You’re an embarrassment. Everyone was laughing at you tonight, wondering why the hell you were here, who made the mistake and sold you a ticket. Even if the only way you could ever get a man to look twice at you is by buying one, you were never going to win an auction. The second we saw you, we decided if you bid on anyone, you’d be the loser you already are.”

The old feeling of rejection hit Cora hard. None of her foster families had ever wanted to keep her, so she’d shuffled from home to home, school to school. Consequently, it was impossible to make friends. People she’d thought had her back turned on her the second someone more interesting came along.

Except for Lara. It had been hard for Cora to trust her for a long time, but whenever she did or said something to drive her away, Lara never even flinched. She’d stood by her time and time again. Had helped her get a job when she’d needed one desperately, had let her live with her when she was one day away from living on the streets.

Pushing down the pain of Eleanor’s words, Cora glared. “Fuck you,” she said between clenched teeth.

“Oh, yeah, that’s elegant,” Eleanor sniped with a roll of her eyes. “So classy. Why don’t you just die already?” she added. “No one liked you in high school, and no one likes you now. You’re weird, ugly, and pathetic!”

Thosewords didn’t hurt. None of them were a new insult from Eleanor. She’d been spouting the same crap for years. Besides, Cora was weird, plain enough to probably be considered ugly by a lot of people, and she’d been pathetic more often than she wanted to admit over the years.

“Why are you here, Eleanor?” she asked. “It’s not like you give a shit about anyone other than yourself. Homeless veterans, our military heroes addicted to drugs and alcohol, needing psychiatric help? That’s not your jam. I can’t imagine you wanting to give money to those people.”

Eleanor tittered. “You’re right…for once. I don’t give a shit about them. They’re all a bunch of fucking losers, using their so-called PTSD as a crutch to get free money and services from the government. If they’d just get jobs like the rest of us, they wouldn’t need a handout.”

“As if you have a job,” Cora couldn’t help but mutter.

“Bitch, I’m an influencer. I have more followers than you could even imagine. Do you know how much money I make every day? With every video I post, I could buy whatever hellhole you live in,” Eleanor said with a sneer.

Thing1 and Thing2 next to her nodded in unison.

“That’s not a job,” Cora informed her.

“The hell it’s not!” Eleanor protested. “I work damn hard to be beautiful. Witty. Fun. Three things you aren’t and will never be.”

“You’re right. I’d rather be a good person. Charitable. A loyal friend. Someone people can rely on. You aren’t any of those things.”

“As if I care,” Eleanor said with a flick of her head.

Cora was tired. And done trading barbs with Eleanor. The woman wouldn’t change. Ever. And Cora needed to figure out what her next steps would be. See if she could get an inexpensive plane ticket to New Mexico, find a cheap hotel near The Refuge, and figure out how to get on the property and come up with some way to get ten minutes to talk to one of the owners.

“Right,” Cora said with a shrug. “Whatever. At least your ten thousand bucks will be helpful, even if your heart is as black as your soul.”

“So naïve,” Scarlett said with a giggle.

“Stupid,” Valentina agreed.

Cora frowned. “About what?”

“I’m not giving anyone money.”

“But you have to. You won the bid,” Cora said adamantly.

“So? No one can force me to pay. I just wanted to outbid you. No harm, no foul. Besides, if you think I’d be seen anywhere near that freak with the tattoos, you’re crazy. No way would I sully my reputation by being seen out and about with someone who looks like a gang member. Nope. I’ll just push out a few tears and act confused when I can’t find my checkbook. Then I’ll ignore their efforts to collect the money. It’s not as if they’ll even use it for anything they said they would. It’ll go right into some CEO’s pocket.”

Cora saw red. What a fucking bitch. She wanted to march over to the table where the money was being collected and give them her six thousand to try to cover for what Eleanor refused to pay…but she needed every cent of her money to get to New Mexico.

“You’re going straight to hell,” Cora blurted. “And that man on the stage is worth a hundred times more than you. He risked his life for his country. Put himself in harm’s way. Suffered to try to help others. What have you ever done for anyone other than yourself? Not a damn thing. You judge everyone by their looks, when you’re the ugliest person who’s ever lived. His tattoos, beard, and long hair don’t make him a gang member or a violent person, just as your lack of tattoos doesn’t make you an upstanding citizen. Personally? I think his tattoos are sexy as hell. They tell me he’s a man who doesn’t give a shit about what other people think. People like you, who look down on him because of a little ink on his skin. You’d sully his reputation if he was ever seen with you.”

Eleanor rolled her eyes. “You’re such a dumb bitch, Cora. You have no idea how things work in my world. Go back to the gutter where you belong.”

Cora’s fists clenched. It had been a long time since she’d gotten into a physical altercation with anyone, and she was itching to punch this bitch in the face. But it wouldn’t change anything. In many ways, Eleanor was right. She didn’t belong here. In her cheap dress and shoes, with an actual soul.

There was so much she wanted to say but nothing would make a difference. Eleanor and her silly friends were who they were. Mean, entitled bitches who truly thought the world revolved around them. They wouldn’t change, especially not because of anything she had to say.

With Lara’s words about rising above those who seek to bring her down to their level ringing in her ears, Cora turned to leave.

Only to stop in her tracks when she saw two men standing about ten feet away.

She recognized them immediately. It was Bryson, the man she’d unsuccessfully bid on, and Callen Kaufman, who, according The Refuge website, went by the nickname Owl.

She stared at them in confusion. What were they doing? And how long had they been standing there?

Then she blushed, remembering that she was in her ratty jeans and sweatshirt.

Eleanor turned to see what she was staring at, and Cora actually felt the shift in the woman. Her mask was back on and she smiled at the men, jutting a hip seductively.

“Oh! Hi, gentlemen. I’m so excited about our date,” she simpered.

Cora was disgusted. At Eleanor, the auction, and humanity in general. She’d had enough. Eleanor had won, like she always did. Bryson could go out with the witch and marry her, for all she cared. There were other men at The Refuge who would work just as well for her needs.

Of course, she didn’t feel the attraction toward them that she did for Bryson, but whatever.

She hadn’t wanted to admit to herself that she was drawn to the man she’d bid on. She’d studied his short bio on The Refuge’s website until she’d memorized it, then dug further, finding as much information as she could about him on the Internet. In one particular picture, the tattoos on his arms had been on full display. He looked nothing like his friends, which intrigued Cora. He had an edge, which had always appealed to her. She didn’t want a pretty boy. She wanted someone who made people walk the other way when they saw him. Someone who wouldn’t put up with anyone talking shit.

Someone who looked as if they could, and would, protect their woman.

Internally rolling her eyes, Cora headed for the ballroom’s exit. Romance wasn’t for her. She wasn’t the kind of woman men found attractive, which had been hammered home more than once in her lifetime. She didn’t need a man to rely on, anyway. They’d only ever disappointed her. She had several foster dads and siblings who’d proven that true.

There was only one person in her entire life who’d never let her down. Lara. And Cora would do whatever it took to help her now.