Page 1 of Eden and her Mercenary
Chapter 1
Eden Wade
The rain pelted against the windshield as I checked my rearview mirror for the fourth time in under a minute. If I were being honest, I was staring at it more than looking at the road.
The same black SUV had been tailing me since I'd left the animal shelter six days ago in Edmonton. It takes a long time in my travels because I have precious cargo to worry about, and most people didn’t have to stop every few hours to let seven dogs out for a pee break and to stretch their legs.
At first, I thought it was just a coincidence. I mean, we were both travelling the same way and there were a ton of black SUVs on the road.
But then I started to pay attention to it when we first crossed into Ontario yesterday in the early evening. I was too tired to notice if it was parked at the truck stop we’d stayed at for the night.
But that big dent in the front bumper was a dead giveaway and the same three letters on the partiallyvisible Ontario plate, BRDT 1, confirmed it was the same SUV.
It was keeping a steady distance, close enough to follow, far enough not to seem obvious. But I knew better. Fifteen years of moving rescue dogs across the country had taught me to recognize trouble.
In the modified cargo area behind me, seven dogs rested in their secured crates. Most were asleep, lulled by the rhythm of the highway and the soft country music playing through the speakers. But the small trembling fawn colored pit bull mix in the corner crate, with a perfect white star on her chest, hadn't settled since we'd started the journey. I was tempted to let her sit up front with me but was afraid she would try to climb onto my lap.
"It's okay Stella," I said softly. "We're going to get you somewhere safe."
I hadn't asked questions when the rescue coordinator had called me at 2 AM, with an urgency in her voice I’d never heard before. "This one needs to disappear, Eden. New identity, new province. The paperwork says she's a stray, but she's got an owner who's looking. Bad situation. Very bad."
The SUV behind me suddenly accelerated as we crossed over a river, pulling into the passing lane. I tensed as it drew alongside my van. The driver was a broad-shouldered man wearing dark sunglasses despite the gloomy weather. He glanced over, his gazelingering on my vehicle too long for my liking, before speeding ahead.
My phone buzzed. The text from an unknown number chilled me to the bone.
"Pull over. Just give us the pit mix. The rest can go on their merry way. $5000 cash."
I tossed the phone onto the passenger seat. Whoever that was could fuck right off. I took the next exit without signaling, knowing there was a narrow country road I could disappear on. I caught sight of the SUV's brake lights flare in the distance as I took the off ramp.
I swerved hard onto County Road 7, a gravel strip barely visible in the darkening evening. My headlights carved through sheets of rain until I spotted the familiar turn. A gap in the trees marked only by a rusted mailbox lying on its side. I killed the lights and gunned it down the overgrown lane, my heart hammering against my ribs.
The abandoned MacPherson farm materialized from the gloom—a sagging two-story farmhouse, and just behind it, a massive, weathered barn with doors hanging crooked on ancient hinges. I knew this trail like the back of my hand, steering around fallen branches to the back entrance of the barn. The van lurched through mud as I eased it inside, the darkness swallowing us whole.
Only then did I cut the engine, sitting in thesudden silence broken only by the pounding of rain on the roof and Stella's soft whining.
"We're okay," I whispered, more to myself than the dogs. "We're okay."
I'd stayed here multiple times over the years, the latest, eight months ago during another transport run when a snowstorm had made the highways impossible to drive on. The house had been abandoned for years, the family long gone after they’d lost it to the bank, but the barn remained sturdy enough. A sanctuary hidden from the main road.
I reached for my phone, the screen illuminating my face. Three more texts from the unknown number:
"Don't be stupid."
"That dog isn't worth your life."
"Last chance."
I switched the phone to airplane mode. Whoever was after Stella had connections—they'd gotten my number somehow. The rescue coordinator's warning echoed in my mind…Very bad situation.
A distant engine growl made me freeze. Headlights swept across the farmhouse windows before disappearing. They were searching the main road for us.
"They’re just passing by," I murmured, but Stella's whimpering intensified.
I climbed into the back of the van, moving between the crates to check on my charges. The six other dogs—a border collie mix, two lab puppies, a senior beagle, and a pair of bonded shepherds that were going to their new home in Pearl Lake—watched me with curious eyes. But Stella trembled violently, pressing herself against the back of her crate.
When I unlatched her door, she didn't bolt—she cowered. That told me everything I needed to know about her former owner.
"Come here, sweetheart," I coaxed, offering my hand palm-up. "Nobody's going to hurt you anymore."
