Page 5 of Her Redeemed Protector

I remain speechless as I try to shoo away the image of Valentina, an apparition woven from anguish and shattered hopes.Not now.Though I carry the wreckage of my past, I’ve vowed not to let it hinder my work.

Marta exhales. “I know you are doing good things in Montana. She would be so proud.”

I’ve learned plenty from life’s harsh lessons. I’m not the type who stubbornly clings to the past, yet moving on is easier said than done. I’ve tried counseling, new relationships, and immersing myself in work. But Valentina was one of a kind. Her touches, her whispers, she embodied everything Iadmired in a woman. Her courage could humble the proudest of men—she was the CIA’s best informant in that part of the world. Until the cartel butchered her while I was rendered helpless in the hospital, my face wrapped in bandages like a mummy.

A buzzing noise against my ear interrupts Marta’s voice. Tyler’s name flashes insistently on the screen, demanding my attention.

“Marta, I have to go. I’ll talk to you later, all right?” I end the call and answer my head of ops.

“Comet!” Tyler’s voice bursts through the line. He’s currently training a new team in the Flathead Forest.

“Ty!” I start, ready to mention the cupcakes he left on my desk, but the urgency in his voice stops me short.

“We’ve got a case. Bethany Anderson, eight years old. I just talked to her mother. She had an argument with her husband last night, and this morning, she found her daughter missing. Likely taken by the old man.”

“Do the police know?” I query.

“No. She’s pretty skeptical of them,” he replies. “She wants us to handle it ourselves. But if you need the boys in blue for support, reach out to Zander.” Captain Zander is our go-to at the Helena PD—he’s been with us since Red Mark was just Sam and Mark. We focus on the rescue while he liaises with the relevant agencies and deals with jurisdiction.

“I’m on it!” I exclaim.

“I’ll be off the grid soon. Coordinate with Cora-Lee if you need anything.”

As Tyler speaks, I’m already moving, packing my gear. “Understood, Ty. I’m on my way.”

Cora-Lee sendssome information en route. At a traffic light, I glance at the images—a photo of Bethany, her father’s face, and his blue Ford truck—committing them to memory.

Every Red Mark agent is teamed with a partner. Mine is Jack Kelleher, Sam’s younger brother. I had called Jack earlier, and now we both pull up at the Andersons’ nearly at the same time. His tension is palpable, underscored by his towering six-foot-six stature. Jack’s fair complexion and blond hair are a stark contrast to Sam’s rugged, dark features. Even after his service with the Marines, Jack retains that stern, clean-shaven look.

“Ready for this?” I challenge.

“Let’s bring her home,” he says with a determined nod.

A visibly distraught woman answers the door, her eyes red from crying. She greets us, but I catch her gaze briefly flickering to the side of my face.

My scar is a marker of my history, not a badge of honor or a scar of shame. To strangers, it’s a peculiar intrigue, often halting conversations as swiftly as it starts them. To my inner circle, I share just enough of its origin to paint a picture, but not the ghosts that linger.

“Mrs. Anderson, we’re here to help find Bethany.” I show her my Red Mark ID. “I’m Huxley, and this is my partner, Jack.”

She invites us in. “Thank you for coming, gentlemen. I didn’t trust the police to handle this. Besides, it hasn’t been twenty-four hours yet, so they wouldn’t take me seriously. I’ve heard about you from some of your past cases. You always bring them back, don’t you?”

I give her a small smile. “Can you tell us what happened?”

She swallows, then begins, “My husband and I had a huge fight. He was stealing my drugs again.”

“Drugs?” I ask.

“Oh, not the illegal ones. I work in pharmaceuticals. Sometimes, I have samples in my office, and he just can’t help himself. He’s jobless, spends his days drinking, draining our savings.” Then, her angry tone shifts as her voice breaks slightly. “This morning, he and Bethany were gone before it was even light out. He packed a few of her things. This has never happened before.”

I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of my next question. “Has your husband ever hurt Bethany?”

She sighs, her voice trembling. “He sometimes beat her, and if I interfered, I’d get a taste of it too.”

I exchange a meaningful glance with Jack. We’re dealing with a man who won’t hesitate to harm his own daughter.

“Mrs. Anderson, can you tell me about Bethany?” I prompt.

A smile breaks through her tears as she wipes them away. “She’s a sweet kid. Bethany’s mute, so she doesn’t really socialize with other children. She’s rather timid, but she’s perfectly healthy. I sometimes joke that she’s fitter than me.”

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