Opal's Wish (Crystal Warriors 4) - Excerpt only

Opal's Wish - Excerpt (Chapter Three)

OPAL'S WISH (Crystal Warriors 4)

BY MAREE ANDERSON

CHAPTER THREE

The thwack of a slamming door... the relentless pressure of hands gripping her shoulders... words she couldn't comprehend because inside her head she was howling with fear and pain and despair even though no sound issued from her mouth. She was mute, the words locked up tight. And then a face swam into her field of vision—a face she recognized. A friend.

Desiree's elegant features had twisted with worry. "What happened, Opal? Talk to me!"

Opal grasped the other woman's wrists, holding on tight, desperate to anchor herself in the present. She swallowed, tried to speak... couldn't force a sound past the huge aching knot in her throat.

Desiree plunked onto the mattress beside her and draped an arm over her shoulders. "It's okay, sweetie. Take your time. Do you want a glass of water?"

She needed to tell Desiree how afraid she was, that she had to leave, get home to Sera, now. But the words were trapped inside her.

Damn him to hell! She hated that he'd done this to her—made her weak, turned her into a frightened victim who'd done exactly what he'd told her to do. She'd shut up, told no one. And she was still shutting up, still unable to speak up when she needed to most. Even now, when Sera's safety was paramount, and she was so worried her skin was clammy and her heart kicked like it would burst through her ribcage, she was mute.

Despairing, she thrust the mobile phone at Desiree.

Her friend frowned as she read the last text. And then, as Opal watched, inhaling in short, shaky breaths that sounded like sobs, Desiree scrolled back to read the earlier messages. Her eyes widened. "Shit," she muttered. And then she fixed her gaze on Opal's face. "Does this mean what I think it means? I'm guessing this 'asshole' who pissed off your sitter is your ex. And he's not someone you want alone with your daughter."

Opal nodded, sagging with relief. And then fear grabbed her by the throat and shook her hard, and the full-body trembles stole what little control she'd managed to grab on to. Oh God. This was a nightmare. Rick Windsor would have taken one look at Sera and known he was her father. Because Sera, with her thick, wavy red hair and freckles, was his spitting image. And he wouldn't hesitate to use her to get what he wanted.

Opal had kept tabs on him as much as she was able—the whole know your enemy tactic—and had been hugely relieved when he'd returned to Dallas. He came from an influential, obscenely wealthy family. He'd made powerful friends—the kind who could see to it that Opal never laid eyes on her daughter again. No one would believe her version of events. No one would take her side if she was foolish enough to go public after all this time. If she crossed him, he'd keep his promise to make her sorry she was ever born.

She fumbled in her tote for the credit card she kept for emergencies. The cab fare back to Philly would be phenomenal but she couldn't think about that now. If this didn't constitute a dire emergency nothing would.

She inhaled, held her breath for a slow count of three, and as she exhaled she forced out a word and prayed Desiree would understand.

"Taxi?" Desiree shook her head. "I've got a better idea. Grab your bag. And don't waste your breath telling me I'm not coming with you, because I'm coming with you." She grasped Opal's wrist and tugged her toward the door.

Desiree in action was like watching a force of nature. Three men had joined the group of women at the bar; a promising young upcoming designer, a photographer hired by the organizers, and one of the stylists. Within minutes, all three were clamoring for the privilege of doing Desiree a favor. The chosen one—selected because he'd arrived in his own car—accepted Desiree's "personal emergency" explanation without demur and handed over his keys.