Her past has come back to haunt her, and this jaded detective is her only hope.

Twelve years ago, Wrenley Bennett witnessed the brutal murder of her best friend. In her grief, she turned to faith to bring her through, and from that tragedy, Hope’s Second Chance was born. Now the women’s and children’s shelter has become a sanctuary for abuse victims all over the country.

Due to the evil he’s seen in the world, Detective Alaric Simmons has never been one for faith. But even he can’t deny the inexplicable pull he feels toward Wrenley Bennett, or the fact that he happens to be in the right place at the exact time someone tries to kidnap her.

As the danger escalates and Wrenley’s life once again hangs in the balance, this cynical cop finds himself grasping at his faith and praying that God will lead him to the answers he needs…before it’s too late.

__________

Read an excerpt from Badge of Hope

“Where is your first aid kit?”

“Beneath the bathroom sink. Down the hall, first door on the right.”

“Thanks.” I withdraw my cell and tap on Jaxson’s name.

“What’s up?” he asks.

“Two guys in a windowless van just tried to abduct Wrenley from the parking lot of her apartment. No plates, but it was black and looked relatively new. Get people down here ASAP.”

“I’ll make the call. She all right?”

“Cuts and bruises, but she twisted her ankle, and she needs to have it looked at.”

“Got it. On our way.” He ends the call right as I find the first aid kit, then I head back down the hall to the living room.

Wrenley is pale, her eyes closed as she leans back against the couch cushions. Her hands lie palm up on her legs, which are propped on her coffee table. I move the small décor tray to the floor, then sit down and start removing her shoes.

“I can do that,” she insists.

“No. I got it. Are you attached to these leggings?”

She looks at the holes in the knees. “Not anymore.”

“Good.” Gripping the fabric, I tear, shredding it from just above her knees so I can get a closer look at her injuries. Thankfully, they’re just minor scrapes, though her ankle is already swelling. I break the ice pack and place it on what is likely a nasty sprain, then clean the abrasions on her knees and hands in silence, my mind reeling.

If I hadn’t been here.

If I hadn’t followed the voice in my head that told me I needed to protect her, Wrenley Bennett would be gone. And I’d have no idea where to even begin looking for her.