Page 22 of Her Redeemed Protector

In response, the younger man raises his hands in mock surrender, his movements slow and deliberate. He retreats to his car, the sound of his BMW engine purring to life as he leaves. I watch the car disappear around the corner, wondering what bitter history I’ve stumbled into.

I gather a breath, leaving my car. The air is charged with the aftermath of the encounter. I’m here on Savannah’s behalf,yet I feel like an intruder about to enter a minefield of past grudges.

So, Savannah wasn’t kidding when she said her dad might ‘kill me.’ And to be honest, I don’t think being a Red Mark agent would even matter to him. My only hope lies in Savannah having reached her dad and somehow convinced him that I’m nothing like the prick he just threatened.

As I approach the front gate, I hear dogs barking from the back. At the top of the driveway, two border collies jump on top of one another behind another set of gates. Without a doubt, they’re alerting the old man that he has a visitor.

“I said, fuck off!” a voice booms from within, accompanied by the cocking of a rifle.

“Mr. Mitchell. It’s Huxley Cometti,” I announce as the door creaks open, the man aiming his rifle at me. I stay put, calmly stating, “Savannah sent me.”

The old man changes his expression as if realizing he already knows me. “I’ve taught myself to be wary of men in suits.” He puts away his rifle and studies me some more. “I apologize. I’ve been bothered by an unwanted visitor.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Mitchell,” I greet him, and we shake hands.

“Call me Al,” he insists.

“Was that man causing trouble for you? I can have a word or two with him,” I suggest.

“Well, young man, I appreciate your concern, but this finger is still as sharp as ever.” He reveals his trigger finger.

“No doubt. Though I’m pretty sure Savannah would rather you not get arrested for murder,” I mention cautiously.

“Murder, my ass!” he hisses.

“Food for thought, I guess,” I comment. “Are you ready?”

“I’ll let you take me on three conditions,” Al declares, like he’s setting up a chessboard for a game he’s bound to win. “One, don’t ask me about that asshole who just vandalized my lawn. Two, don’t treat me like I’m some kind of cripple. And three, take me to her!”

I respond with a thoughtful hum, playing along. “The first two are easy, but your daughter’s going to kill me if I don’t bring you to Dr. Palmer.”

“Would you prefer I do the honors instead?”

I chuckle and shake my head, now seeing where Savannah gets her formidable spirit. “Deal,” I concede.

“Wait here,” Al says, hobbling to fetch something from behind the door. He returns, brandishing a crutch and a bag.

I reach out to take the bag from him, and he hands it over with a nod. “For her.”

“Roger that.” I grasp the bag, the heft of clothes, and maybe some toiletries inside.

Then, in a move that catches me off guard, Al shifts his weight onto his good leg and swiftly removes his prosthetic. Balancing on the crutch, he extends the artificial limb toward me. “Do with it as you see fit,” he says gruffly. “Let’s go.”

I escort him to my car, juggling the unexpected responsibility of his prosthetic, marveling at how he managed to get around on it.

Now, despite his reliance on just one leg, Al moves with surprising agility. He slides into the passenger seat of my car, his actions smooth, evidence of his tenacity.

“Is my daughter really okay?” Al’s voice pulls me from my assessment. “I mean, she told me about the accident, but she tends to downplay things.”

As we pull onto the road, I reassure him, “She’s fine. Really, her heart rate was a bit low. They’re keeping her for observation, nothing more.”

Al leans in, scrutinizing every turn I make. “You’re taking me straight to her, right? No detours?”

I meet his sharp gaze with a smile. “I promised your daughter I’d stay on your good side, so yes, sir, your wish is my command.”

A small smile forms on his stern façade. Then he leans back. “You know, as a rancher myself, I know a ranch hand.” He scrutinizes my hands as if they hold stories of their own.

I raise my eyebrows in surprise. Al’s observation is astute. “I worked at my family ranch full-time after my dad passed away. Mom was up to her shoulders, especially since my little brother was only a toddler. I stayed until I got the ranch back on its feet, and Mom and my brother didn’t need me as much. These days, my brother is in charge.”

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