She stopped.
She had stepped into the long bar to find herself facing the remnants of Alice’s family—the one’s that weren’t deceased or in prison. Her daughters, Ariana and Alex; her son, Anthony; and her grandson, Ollie.
On a banner on the far wall were giant block letters proclaiming: WELCOME HOME, ABBIE.
Stunned, shocked, floored by the kindness of this gesture, Abbie put a hand to her mouth and almost collapsed.
Dealing with knife-wielding monsters and gun-toting maniacs, Abbie was in her element. She thrived.
Dealing with the warm, loving embrace of a family, she was almost knocked flat.
"I don't know what to say," she said.
"That much is clear, and it's fine because we have only one question for you, Abagail King."
Alice said this as she stepped around the bar and grabbed a bottle. She held it up and beamed at her new house guest.
"How do you take your vodka?"
Abbie King returns in…
TWICE SHY
Coming November 2021
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Twice Shy - Chapter One
Abbie had driven by numerous "WELCOME TO X" signs over the years as she arrived in new towns, cities, and villages never before visited. Maybe as many as a hundred. Perhaps even more than that.
Town names meant little to her. Abbie only noted the signs because it was sometimes helpful to know where she was. Especially when she had arrived as a stranger in this new place, hoping to save the life of someone she had never before met. On such occasions, Abbie glanced at the signs, internalised the name, and thought little more about them. After all, what should a place name matter to her? It was the name of the innocent Abbie intended to save and the wicked she hoped to defeat that she desired to learn. They were the ones who mattered.
This sign was different.
Abbie had woken a little over two hours ago, at midnight on the dot, and, save one slight adjustment, had followed her usual routine. A hot shower while she processed the nightmare from which she had woken, a drink of water, a strong black coffee, then straight to the car and onto the open road.
As always, Abbie drove without recourse to maps or GPS. She took turns at random, with no specific destination in mind. No vague one either.
The face of the innocent that Abbie needed to save stuck in her mind like chewing gum in her hair. That face was her compass. As long as Abbie could see it as she drove, she knew she would arrive where she was needed.
The slight change in routine had added only a minute to Abbie's journey.
For the past three months, she had been staying with Alice Rayner and several of Alice's children. Abbie had previously saved Alice's life, and the two women had become close. Alice was sixty, a little over thirty years older than Abbie, and had become something of a mother figure to her. So, while Abbie was used to leaving without a word or without letting anyone know, on this occasion, Abbie had scrawled a quick note, explaining her sudden departure. Alice knew about Abbie's calling and likely would have deduced why her houseguest had left in the night without a word. She almost certainly would not have worried. But it was common courtesy, so far as Abbie was concerned, to let her hostess know why she had gone and that she hoped to be back, so long as she was still welcome. And so long as her latest mission did not spell her end. Which was always possible.
Then, the sign.
Abbie saw its approach and glanced its way. Four seconds later, it was close enough to read. The name flashed across Abbie's mind, and a jolt ran through her heart.
Based on no conscious intention, Abbie slammed her feet onto the brake pedal as her mind registered the town's name.
The road she drove was long and straight, two lanes. It was shortly after two in the morning, and there were no other cars in sight. Despite this, Abbie rarely drove beyond the speed limit and had not been on this quiet mid-May night. But the speed limit on this stretch of road was generous. Abbie slammed the brakes too hard while travelling at some speed, and the car rebelled. The brakes clamped, but the wheels hated to stop rolling. They fought the instruction and screamed in rebellion. The car jolted, and Abbie shook. It skidded, and the wheels screeched along the tarmac, not turning but still moving. Abbie watched the sign slip by, and the car rotated as it slid along the road, as though determined to taunt Abbie with another look at the town's name as revenge for hitting the brakes.
The car stopped with another jolt. Abbie's shoulder smacked the window, but she hardly felt it. Her heart was slamming into her chest far harder than her shoulder had hit the glass, and her stomach was churning. Her head was swimming.
In the quiet calm of the now still car, she took deep breaths, seeking to regain control of herself. Abbie was known as a measured woman. Though the events of her past had left her damaged, she rarely showed emotion she wanted to conceal. For many years, most of the people she met would have claimed she experienced no feeling at all. On more than one occasion, someone had called her a robot.
Things were different now. Her experiences and the relationships she had formed over the last few months had gone some way to freeing her emotions from the cage in which she had entombed them. Did that make the sight of the sign hit harder? Abbie wasn't sure. She felt that even at her emotionless peak, the effect rendered upon her by the town name would have been profound.
Slow, measured breathing wasn't helping, and all of a sudden, waves of nausea
