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Harper Burns glanced at the letter in her hand. Her stomach lurched and the wrap she’d had for lunch suddenly wanted to make a very unwanted reappearance. How could her father owe so much money? Why?

She fell onto the sofa, dizzy with so much anxiety, she could feel a panic attack coming on. Her hands shook. For most her life, she’d learned not to depend on her father for anything. When her mother passed away, Harper knew she was on her own.

Throughout her childhood, she’d seen her father as a roommate more than a parental figure. He’d come and go and never really did much for her. Her mom always told her he was just not the type to be tied down. And Harper had tried to understand, she really had, but it was hard for a nine-year-old. Other kids had a daddy they could do stuff with. Harper had the name of a father who was never there.

Letter crumpled in her grasp, she clenched her jaw to stop the stream of bad words that wanted to come out. She shouldn’t care that he was in trouble. She should let whoever was going to come after him to do whatever they were going to do and forget he’d ever existed. Not like he cared how she was doing. No. He only called and texted for money. Nothing else. Not even to say hello.

Her cell phone chose that moment to go off. She ignored it and instead went back to her job. Updating websites was not that difficult and she could easily do it from home. Another ringing of her cell phone brought her out of her work mode. She needed to focus and get her job done so her clients would pay her.

Nibbling on her bottom lip, she started to wonder just how bad things were with her father. Christian. She’d never called him Dad. He would have had to try to be a father for that to happen and he never had. Christian wanted her help. When he wasn’t in a rush, he’d go as far as come to her home and attempt civil talk before hitting her with the need for cash. The fact he sent a letter, instead of an email, or instead of calling, that really set off alarms in her head.

A loud pounding on the door sounded. Leaving her colorful mouse and laptop mid-design, she got up and opened the door.

Three men, three very big, handsome and well-dressed men, stood there. They reminded her a little of Men in Black. They had the black suits with the earpiece and the black shades. It was a little daunting.

She frowned and glanced from guy to guy. “May I help you?”

“Miss Burns?”

She wanted to deny who she was. A sick sensation settled at the pit of her stomach. It wouldn’t serve any purpose to deny it. “Yes.”

“We need you to come with us.”

She was already shaking her head when the men went to grab her. She elbowed one of the big guys, punched one of the others in the nose, kicked the other and hit him with the door when she tried to close it in his face. Doing a mad dash for the kitchen exit, she tried to leave them behind.

Someone growled. She glanced over her shoulder and time slowed. One of the guys’ faces, the one she punched in the nose, was doing a strange alteration. Fear and shock stopped her dead in her tracks.

What. The. Hell?

One of the other guys grabbed her arm. She struggled but was too fascinated by the man who had an almost animalistic look to his features to give her all to the fight.

“Who are you people?” she asked the men.

They looked at each other as if her struggles had meant nothing and took their sunglasses off. Air rushed out of her lungs, making it near impossible to breathe. She swore she’d faint at any moment. Fuck, she wasn’t that weak, but this was some serious shit. These were…they were…shifters.

The rim of gold around their eyes and the glow in the pupils told her all she needed to know. She was fucked.

She didn’t fight any longer. There was no point. Getting into the massive SUV, she glanced around to see if any of her neighbors were nosy enough to try and figure out who was at her place. Not like she ever had male visitors. She hadn’t had a boyfriend in over a year. Men didn’t frequent her home.

Meghan, her best friend since middle school, was the only other person who came to see her regularly. If Meghan were there, she’d still fight the shifters thinking she had a chance. Meghan was a lot more reckless than Harper. Harper was the logical one. The one who always weighed all options and was way too forgiving for her own good.

“We’ve got her,” one of the men said into his earpiece.

“On our way,” said another guy.

She gulped, her throat bone dry. The drive was quiet and long. She didn’t recognize the area, so she wasn’t sure where they were taking her. Fuck. And her cell phone? Still on her desk.

They could be driving her to some remote location to kill her and dump the body in the woods. Fear ran rampant in her veins. She kept eyeing the road. The car was going so fast. Would she die if she threw herself out?

“You look green,” the guy sitting next to her said with an almost gentle voice. “Do you need us to stop?”

She turned to look at him instead of the quickly moving scenery. Her stomach lurched again. “It might be a good idea.”

“Don’t even think about running off, sweetheart,” the same handsome guy with black hair said.

She licked her lip and nodded. It was like he’d read her mind. The vehicle stopped and she was let out on a deserted road to get some fresh air. The driver was back to talking to his earpiece.

“Yes. She’s car sick. No, we’re not driving like maniacs.”

She almost laughed at the fact someone wanted to make sure her ride was smooth. It couldn’t be that bad, could it? What if she was blowing it all out of proportion? Not like she had any enemies, anyway. Or anyone she knew in the shifter world.