Freedom Read online

  Contents

  Freedom

  Copyright

  Hidden Beauty Series

  Hidden Hearts Series

  Dedication

  Chapter One ~ Phoenix

  Chapter Two ~ Zoe

  Chapter Three ~ Phoenix

  Chapter Four ~ Zoe

  Chapter Five ~ Phoenix

  Chapter Six ~ Zoe

  Chapter Seven ~ Phoenix

  Chapter Eight ~ Zoe

  Chapter Nine ~ Phoenix

  Chapter Ten ~ Zoe

  Chapter Eleven ~ Phoenix

  Chapter Twelve ~ Zoe

  Chapter Thirteen ~ Phoenix

  Chapter Fourteen ~ Zoe

  Chapter Fifteen ~ Phoenix

  Chapter Sixteen ~ Zoe

  Chapter Seventeen ~ Phoenix

  Chapter Eighteen ~ Zoe

  Chapter Nineteen ~ Phoenix

  Chapter Twenty ~ Zoe

  Chapter Twenty-One ~ Phoenix

  Chapter Twenty-Two ~ Zoe

  Chapter Twenty-Three ~ Phoenix

  Chapter Twenty-Four ~ Zoe

  Chapter Twenty-Five ~ Phoenix

  Epilogue ~ Zoe

  Note from the Author

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  COPYRIGHT

  © 2018 Mary Crawford. All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems – except in the case of brief quotations in articles or reviews – without permission in writing from its publisher, Mary Crawford and Diversity Ink Press. Copyright protection extends to all excerpts and previews by this author included in this book.

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  All brand names and product names used in this book are trademarks, registered trademarks, or trade names of their respective holders. The author or publisher is not associated with any product or vendor in this book.

  Published on January 28, 2018, by Diversity Ink Press and Mary Crawford. Author may be reached at MaryCrawfordAuthor.com.

  ISBN-13: 978-1-945637-14-8 • ASIN: B078RCBR19

  HIDDEN BEAUTY SERIES

  Until the Stars Fall from the Sky

  So the Heart Can Dance

  Joy and Tiers

  Love Naturally

  Love Seasoned

  Love Claimed

  If You Knew Me (and other silent musings) (novella)

  Jude's Song

  The Price of Freedom (novella)

  Paths Not Taken

  Dreams Change (novella)

  Heart Wish (100% charity release)

  Tempting Fate

  The Letter

  HIDDEN HEARTS SERIES

  Identity of the Heart

  Sheltered Hearts

  Hearts of Jade

  Port in the Storm (novella)

  Love is More Than Skin Deep

  Tough

  Rectify

  Pieces (a crossover novel)

  Hearts Set Free

  Freedom (a crossover novel)

  Love and Injustice

  OTHER WORKS:

  Vision of the Heart

  #AmWriting: A Collection of Letters to Benefit The Wayne Foundation

  DEDICATION

  To those who see difference

  and find love, not limitations.

  CHAPTER ONE

  PHOENIX

  ONE THOUGHT IS RUNNING THROUGH my head as I do a last-minute check of my bike. I have twenty-eight days to make it from Gainesville, Florida to McMinnville, Oregon. If I take the most direct route, it means I need to drive 105.857 miles per day. My boss, Tristan Macklin, wants me to go to Identity Bank’s new facility to see if I’d feel comfortable there.

  I’m still reeling from my performance evaluation. I don’t know what to think. On one hand, Tristan said he would like to see me advance in the company. Yet, he criticized the way I interact with my coworkers. He was gentle, but the message was still clear. I guess I don’t really understand why I need to be more social. I’m just a game debugger. I’m really good at that, not so good at making friends at work.

  The new job would mean I’d get a promotion, but I like my job now. Tristan reviewed the time I’ve taken off since I started. He was not happy. He told me working three years straight with no vacation time was not good for me. When he found out I like to take road trips on my motorcycle, he told me to take a month-long trip and go across the country.

  Most people would take a plane for this type of trip, but I’ve never been able to bring myself to fly. Of course, Tristan thinks this is funny because he owns his own plane and can’t understand why anybody wouldn’t jump at the chance to fly. He even offered to spring for first-class tickets. I don’t know how to explain to him how uncomfortable I am in new situations. Some people are nervous flyers, but my anxiety goes far beyond that. So, I’m setting off on an adventure to go across the country. I’m trying to buck my natural tendencies and just go with the flow. It is so far beyond my usual approach I’m not sure if I’ll be able to accomplish my mission. I’m tired of people pigeonholing me because I like my life to be structured and routine.

  On this trip, I’m challenging myself to be spontaneous and ride by the seat of my pants. Barring any complications, I’ve built in enough time in my schedule to stop and see things I’ve never seen before. Over the past month I’ve spent a lot of time convincing myself this isn’t the most radically stupid plan I’ve ever come up with.

  I tighten the strap on my helmet and get onto Interstate 75 to begin the journey of a lifetime. After only about thirty minutes, the road noise starts to irritate me. I pull over to the side of the road, insert my earbuds and start my favorite playlist on my phone. It’s a good thing I’ve got extra batteries for my phone. If traffic continues to be this heavy, it'll be a long trip.

  As I check my rearview mirror before pulling back out into traffic, I see a weird white blur. I look behind me to see if I can interpret what I just saw. Much to my horror, there is a Golden Labrador Retriever running across the lanes of traffic. Before I can take my next breath, he runs into the path of a vehicle. Instead of stopping, the pickup weaves into the other lane of traffic and takes off. No one else seems to notice the dog was hit. I make a U-turn on the shoulder and make my way to the grassy area where the dog has come to rest. My heart is racing as I get closer to the dog. I don’t even know what I’m going to do. I don’t have any first-aid skills to use on humans or animals. But, I can’t just leave him there to die — assuming he survived the collision. My parents are watching my dog while I’m on my road trip, but if Gizmo were hurt, I’d want somebody to stop.

  When I reach the puppy, I can see his coat is stained with blood. The sight causes my stomach to lurch. I’ve never been steady around blood. Swallowing hard, I move closer. The dog sees me and lets out a weak cry.

  I let him sniff my hand before I take a bandanna out of my back pocket and place it over his wound. The poor dog is shaking like a leaf. Then again, so am I.

  With my other hand, I pull my phone out of my pocket and use Google to find the closest veterinarian. It brings up a website called Hope’s Haven.

  As I am waiting for someone to answer the phone, the puppy stops wagging his tail. His eyes seem to roll back in his head. Crap! I should’ve done Boy Scouts or something useful when I was a kid. I don’t want this dog to die in front of me.

  Finally, someone picks up the phone. “Hopes Haven, this is Zoe.”

  “Umm … hi, I am calling to get help. I just saw a dog get hit by a car and he'll die un
less I can get help. I don’t know how to fix him,” I explain in a burst of words.

  “I’m not sure our facility is the best place. We train dogs at Hope’s Haven,” Zoe answers.

  “Please, you have to help me. I don’t know who else to call,” I reply as traffic whizzes by.

  “Of all the weekends for Dr. Stuart to be out of town,” she mutters to herself. “Okay, tell me where you are.”

  “I’m not real sure, I was headed north on Interstate 75. I think I passed the exit to High Springs a little ways back.

  “I don’t know how much I’m going to be able to help you. Are you going northbound or southbound?”

  “I’m northbound. I’m on the side of the road it’s just me and my bike.”

  “I am in Alachua. I guess that puts me ten or fifteen minutes away from you. I’m driving the work truck.”

  “Please tell me you’ve got first aid stuff with you. I don’t think this little guy has much left.”

  “I honestly don’t know. I’m sure there’s something in here. My boss doesn’t go anywhere without being prepared for the worst. It’s kinda how the dog rescue business works. I’ll be there as quickly as I can.”

  Before I can say another word, the phone goes dead in my hand. I stroke the puppy and mutter, “I’m sorry I can’t help you, but help is on the way.”

  Finally, I see a pickup truck with a decal of a German Shepherd on the side. Unfortunately, Zoe parked on the wrong side of the highway. Without thinking, I jog across the freeway. Lucky for me, traffic is at a near standstill. When the truck door opens, I’m surprised to see a young woman who looks barely older than a teenager step out. Her hair is in a ponytail, and she’s wearing an oversized football jersey.

  “Are you Zoe?” I ask. “We need to hurry; the dog is hurt bad.”

  I point to the other side of the freeway where the dog is crumpled in a heap.

  “Yes, I’m Zoe.”

  “Good!” I grab her sleeve and begin to pull her back across the freeway.

  “Wait! I’ve got to get the supplies out of the back,” she protests.

  “Hurry please. High Springs is only nine minutes from Alachua. It took you seventeen minutes to get here,” I observe.

  She pauses for a moment and narrows her eyes at me as she says, “Look at this traffic. I got here as quickly as I could. Do you want help or not?”

  Zoe struggles with the door to the canopy. I reach over and pull it open for her. She disappears inside for a few moments before she emerges with a large first-aid kit.

  “That’s it? That’s all you got? I don’t know if it’s gonna save the dog’s life.”

  “What is it with you? I told you I didn’t know if I could help. This is the best I’ve got. You seemed so desperate I figured I should try,” she responds as we weave through the cars essentially parked on the I-75 to get to the other side where the puppy is crumpled in a much-too-still heap.

  Before I can process what she’s doing, Zoe strips off her jersey as she sprints the last few yards to the puppy. Kneeling in just her sports bra, jeans and Doc Martens, she covers him with her shirt.

  “Oh, you poor baby! You’re a bit of a mess,” she coos as she looks over the dog. She glances up at me. “Do you know what happened? Did you hit her with the bike?”

  Her question startles me out of my thoughts. “No! I didn’t hit him. I just saw it happen. Some truck with custom rims hit him and drove off without stopping.”

  “I’m not sure I believe you, his injuries don’t seem severe enough for a freeway accident. Are you sure?”

  I study the rough pavement under my feet and kick around a little gravel. This conversation is way more confrontational than I expected. “Yes, I’m sure. As you already pointed out, traffic is awful. The truck wasn’t going very fast.”

  “I Just think it’s weird you can’t look me in the eye when you deny that you hit this dog.”

  I shrug. “It’s hard for me to look at people I don’t know. It’s kind of a thing with me,” I confess awkwardly.

  “What’s your name?” She demands.

  “I’m Phoenix. Phoenix Wolf.”

  “Well, I’ll give you points for creativity. That sounds like a name that should come from a shape-shifter novel or something?”

  “Whatever … it’s my name. What’s your name?”

  “Zoe Hurlington,” she answers as she checks the eyes and gums of the dog.

  I can see goosebumps form across her back when a breeze kicks up.

  “We need to get this dog to a vet. I can hold pressure to the laceration on his flank, but that would mean you would have to drive the truck.”

  “Just a second, I’ll be right back,” I say as I run back to my bike.

  Zoe looks up briefly and sees me headed away from her. “Hey! Don’t ditch me here. I need your help. I can’t rescue this dog without you. What are you doing?”

  The tone of her questions makes me stop in my tracks and turn around to face her. “I’m trying to make it so I can help you. I told you I’d be right back.”

  “We need to get this dog to a vet,” she insists.

  I put my hands over my ears as a semi-truck whizzes by. I’m trying to stay calm but the ambient noise, together with her questions, are overwhelming me.

  “I know. I can’t drive the motorcycle and your truck at the same time. I don’t think it will fit in the back with the canopy. Give me a second,” I reply, frustration showing in my voice.

  I walk my bike over to a clump of trees and pull things out of my saddlebags. At the bottom is my Xena — it looks like a boot that the traffic enforcement people use. I quickly attach it to my back tire. I start to cover it with a camouflage rain shield.

  “Dude! Bring that over here. We need it for the dog.”

  “I’ve only got one,” I announce.

  “So? How do you think we’re going to move the dog into the back of the pickup? I think that’s more important than not getting dirt on your bike.”

  “That’s not what I’m using it for. If I leave my bike here, I don’t want it to be visible to everyone driving past.”

  “Okay! Fine! Do whatever you feel you have to do,” Zoe says as she turns back to tend to the dog.

  I shake my head and wring my hands in frustration as I try to process the information. I pick up the rain tarp and a sweatshirt. I jog back toward Zoe.

  “You’re cold,” I state bluntly as I study her.

  “Well, duh! I’m a little too busy to notice it.”

  I thrust the sweatshirt toward Zoe. “Here. This should help.”

  She looks a little surprised at my offer but slides the sweatshirt over her head. “Hold this so I can get the shirt on.”

  “I’m not really qualified to do this —” I protest

  “Look, Phoenix. You and I are the only thing standing between this dog and death. Today you are qualified to hold pressure on the wound.”

  I squat down beside the dog and carefully place my hand over hers. “Is this okay?”

  “I need to get my hand out of there, but as soon as I do that. I think you’re good.”

  I let up for a moment while she removes her hand. She quickly stands up and goes over to the rain tarp. She lays it out on the grass and folds it into thirds.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  “Well, I don’t see any stretchers around, so you and I will have to do this the old school way. I’m making a sling to carry this bruiser.”

  I look at the dog skeptically before I say, “The dog doesn’t look all that big. He looks kinda skinny for a yellow lab.”

  “True enough, I suppose. But, compared to my pug, he is a bruiser.”

  “Maybe you should name him Bruiser.”

  Zoe drags the folded tarp over to where the dog is. She sighs. “Well, before we named this guy, we have to save him first. That may not be so easy. He might have internal bruising or fractures. So, we need to be careful when we move him. We don’t want to make any of his injuries worse.�
��

  "Are you sure we should move him at all? Isn’t there a vet on-call at your place?”

  "No, I’m a dog trainer. The vet we use at the rescue center is busy helping his wife have a baby.” After arranging the tarp right next to Bruiser, she stands up and wipes the sweat from her brow. “I suppose I could call Sydney Austin. She fills in for Dr. Stuart.”

  “Why didn’t we do that first?” I ask.

  “I should have. But I was so focused on trying to figure out what was wrong with the dog, I forgot.”

  “Can you call him now?”

  “I’ll call her and have her meet us at Hope’s Haven.”

  The puppy wags his tail weakly as if he understands real help is on the way.

  “Hi Sydney? This is Zoe. I need you to meet me at Hope’s Haven. We’re bringing a dog in. He doesn’t look so good, so bring as much of your medical stuff as you can. He seems shocky to me. The only injury I see is a pretty substantial gash along his flank.”

  Zoe chews on her fingernail as she listens to something on the other end of the phone. Suddenly, she brightens. “Okay, see you there.”

  Zoe puts her phone in her back pocket. She looks up at me as she makes one last adjustment to the tarp. “You ever watch any medical shows or adventure shows? We are going to try to move the dog over to the tarp and use it as a makeshift gurney. If he was hit by the car, he might have a spinal injury. We don’t want to make it worse. So, we'll have to work together and cooperate. I’m going to count to three and as gently as you can lift up his head and shoulders. I’ll take care of the back end.”

  “Is that going to be an even distribution of his weight?”

  “I can handle it; just pay attention to your end.”

  “Okay, I’m worried about him sliding out of the sling,” I explain.

  “Ideally, I wouldn’t move in this way, but we have no other options. It would take Sydney too long to get here to do a field assessment. So, we need to get him where he’ll be warm and dry,” Zoe clarifies as she looks up. I followed her gaze and notice a huge bank of rain clouds headed in our direction. “Oh great. This is going to be murder on my bike.”