Page 3 of Her Redeemed Protector

Mark then asks, “Why did you quit?”

“Too much baggage, and I couldn’t leave it on shore,” I reply, my tone light but the weight of the past unmistakable.

Both men nod, understanding in their eyes. Then Sam speaks up. “Why don’t you join us? We have a probation period, but I’m confident you’ll breeze through it. No uniform, but we offer much more attractive perks. Most of our ground personnel are ex-military, many ex-SEALs. Mark here was Special Forces, Green Beret.”

I nod at Mark, acknowledging his impressive history as a Green Beret. There’s a reason why they’re called ‘the best of the best.’

“Your company specializes in rescuing kids, you said?” I seek confirmation.

“Yes,” Mark replies, his expression serious. “And clearly, you’ve got a way with them. But can you handle the adults?”

“You rescue adults, too?” I ask, a bit puzzled.

“Not usually, only in special cases,” he clarifies. “I mean dealing with parents, law enforcement, the press. Can you handle them?”

“Of course,” I say without hesitation.

Mark hands over his business card. “Talk to us when you’re ready.”

“Baggage welcome,” Sam adds with a grin. “Ego, not so much.”

I take the card and examine it.Red Mark Rescue & Protect, with a fox logo, has its headquarters in downtown Helena.

This feels like the break I’ve been waiting for.

As Sam and Mark start to leave, I call out, “Are you guys free today?”

They both turn, smiles spreading across their faces as they nod.

A sense of purpose stirs within me, a feeling long forgotten.Redemption may be out of reach, and I will forever carry the wreckage of Operation Jaguar Strike—a child lost, the woman I love brutally murdered. But today’s unexpected turn of events has me diving into waters I’m eager to navigate rather than merely float through.

And maybe, just maybe. If I maintain my course, these currents will steer me to a new shore. A place where the shards of my past are reforged, and my heart is given a second chance.

1

HUXLEY

Helena, Montana – present day

“Supersize flat white for Hux,” the barista announces, sliding the sizable cup across the counter. When I fish out my wallet, she gestures dismissively. “It’s on the house.”

“Really? Thanks!” I respond with a smirk. “I still get my loyalty stamp, though, right?”

She brandishes a side grin, chortling. “I’ll throw in an extra one next time. Just remind me.” Then she whirls to greet the next in line.

The café is just opposite the Red Mark office. With so many nights spent working until dawn, our patronage has certainly been appreciated.

At my desk, I notice a bakery-style box with a message on top.Another year older, but I bet you could still outswim a shark! – Ty.

Tyler Hunt, our head of ops, is one of the many ex-SEAL brothers I have the privilege of working with. His wife’s baking is legendary, and her cupcakes are to die for. I barely have time to munch on one when footsteps approach.

Mark Connor, sharp in his gray suit, greets me. “Comet, my man! Happy birthday!”

“Ah, thank you, sir,” I grin, basking in the birthday glory. Suits are the norm at Red Mark, but he’s definitely the best dressed.

“My mathematical prowess tallies your cake at twenty-eight candles.”

“Spot on as always,” I concede.

---