Page 16 of Her Redeemed Protector

There’s a pause, and I can picture him sitting in his old armchair, probably fiddling with his glasses. “I haven’t heard anything, but whatever it is, are you really okay?”

“Yes, Dad. I’ll tell you all about it later.” I keep my eyes on the road, the familiar scenery flashing by. “Don’t forget about your appointment with Dr. Palmer this afternoon. I still have some errands to do, but I promise I’ll be home in time.”

“Yeah, I’ll be ready,” he grumbles, but I know he appreciates the reminder. “You just take care of yourself, Savannah.”

As I drive, the miles stretch out before me. The thought of listening to music arises, but I choose to let the whisper of thewind and the rumble of my truck be the only lingering noise. The heat waves rising from the road create a shimmering mirage, distorting the landscape into surreal, wavering shapes.

Suddenly, a creature darts out onto the road. My heart leaps into my throat as I slam on the brakes, the tires screeching in protest. The coyote, just a blur of tawny fur, looks back for a fleeting moment before my truck veers off the road. I grip the steering wheel with white-knuckled fear. The scene shifts—the present and the past blur, transporting me back in my mother’s car, the sound of her voice filling the space.

“Hold on,Saltamontes,” she says as she grips the steering wheel, her voice strained as the car skids on a patch of black ice.

But it’s too late. The car spirals out of control.

“Mom!” I scream, the terror of the present tangled with flashes from the past. The car careens over rough terrain, jolting violently. I slam on the brakes in a desperate attempt to regain control. We come to a bone-jarring halt. The airbag explodes with a thunderous pop.

“Mom, stay with me. Please, stay with me,” I plead, my voice breaking as I watch the life fade from her face.

7

HUXLEY

Captain Zander drives us back to the trailhead by the river, where Jack and I parked our cars.

Even after leaving the farm behind, my mind is still running on overdrive. The adrenaline from the rescue and the encounter with Savannah have me feeling edgy, like a live wire sparking with unresolved tension. I know I need to stem this crazy energy before I go insane, so I decide to engage Jack in conversation.

“How’s Ava?” I ask, turning away from the trail imprinted with Lance Anderson’s truck tread marks we found earlier today.

“She’s good, man. Anytime now,” Jack replies, and I can sense his smile. Jack, tough as nails from his military days, always softens when he talks about Ava.

The couple is expecting, and I’m excited for them. I got to know Jack when he was still a Marine, and I’ve grown close to both him and Ava. Despite Jack’s tendency to be a hardass with me, their relationship is the kind I aspire to have someday. Ava’s strength makes her a force to be reckoned with, while Jack’s protectiveness reveals his deep devotion.

“I’m waiting for your turn, Astro Boy,” Jack quips. Sometimes, he calls me that instead of Comet like the others do.

I scoff. “It takes two to tango, and right now, I’m dancing solo. The only kids I’m chasing are the ones in my imagination.”

Finally, I hear him laugh. “At least you’re still chasing something,” he says.

We go into our respective cars. As I settle in, I notice Jack receiving a call, and his expression changes instantly. I wait until he finishes.

“Jack?” I ask, stepping out of my car to approach him.

His face reveals a whirlwind of joy and anxiety. “She’s in labor. Ava’s in labor!” he exclaims.

“Well, that’s certainly a joyous bundle!” I flash him a wide grin. “Go be with her. I’ve got everything covered here. Just drive safely, okay?”

Jack nods appreciatively and hurries away.

I call Cora-Lee at headquarters to let her know we’ve wrapped up the operation. Then, I head back to the city.

The road seems less daunting as my thoughts fill with the heartwarming news. I’m already thinking about the gifts I’m going to buy for Mom, Dad, and Baby later. I can’t wait to play Uncle Comet for his little munchkin.

As I continue driving, a coyote darts in and out of the road, capturing my attention. Something doesn’t feel right. There’s a sense of recent chaos, as if another vehicle had just swerved to avoid a collision. Knowing that wildlife-related accidents are all too common in Montana, I slow down and pull over, compelled to investigate.

My hunch is right. Right ahead, I see tire tracks veering off the road and leading down a slope. Worry sinks in as I recognize the familiar white RAM truck at the bottom.

Feeling a surge of nervous energy, I quickly rush down theslope, my boots slipping on the loose gravel. My mind races with possibilities, each one more dire than the last. As I get closer, I see that the driver has done well to stop. The truck’s front end is only slightly dented, steam rising from the engine.

“Hello? Is anyone there?” I shout.

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