Page 91 of Sworn to Protect

Lies and deceptions never win. I should’ve known that.

“I’ll go,” I say. “But no matter what, I’m never leaving you.”

Her green eyes shine. “I’m not asking you to stay.”

That one stings. But I don’t believe it for a second. She still wants me. She just doesn’t know it yet.

I step back, locking eyes with her. “I’m not asking you to.”

With that, I turn and head back to my truck.

Because I need to get answers.

And that means heading straight for San Francisco. I may be a retired army ranger, but I’m done following orders. This time, I’m getting to the bottom of this.

On my terms.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

MACKENZIE

Who knewtomato-based dishes would forever ruin me?

Ihatethis. I’ll be doing fine—or at least numb, which is the only emotion I’ll allow myself to feel—when suddenly, bam. A single can of crushed tomatoes sends my world spinning.

I’ve been through so much. Losing my husband. Liam’s accident. My brotherstealing from me.But nothing compares to the hollow ache Nate left behind.

But is it thebetrayalthat hurts? Or his absence?

I swallow the lump in my throat, staring numbly at the can. I miss him. The way his serious expression would crack with that barely-there smile. The way he always put the kids and me first. The unapologetic way he dominates in bed.

I miss everything.

More than anything, though, I miss the conversations that grew from a single can of crushed tomatoes. That’s how it started. We bonded over food, over Italian dishes, and late-night talks. It was in those moments I got to peek into his guarded soul.

Jill’s right. His side of the story deserves telling. I owe him that much. My pride has kept me locked in my own stubbornness, but what am I even protecting anymore? He’s just a few blocks away. I can fix this.We can fix this.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I abandon the cart and march straight out of the store.

I’m twenty yards from my car when the rapid clicking of heels pounds against the pavement behind me. Then I hear my name.

“Mackenzie, I heard the news. How are you doing?”

Linda. Of course.

Her concern drips with manufactured sympathy, and I barely bite back a groan as I spin to face her. There’s no escaping this conversation, is there?

Linda’s face tightens when she takes me in, her eyes sweeping over me with the same judgmental glint she’s worn since high school. “Oh, honey. You don’t look so well. Suppose I wouldn’t either if thatfine specimen of a manleft town.”

My jaw drops from her brazenness. “What?”

At first, I think she means Jordan. Maybe she’s being snide about the money he stole. But she wouldn’t call athiefa fine specimen.

Would she?

I go to answer her original question but close my mouth. Narrowing my eyes, I ask, “Who are you talking about? What man?”

Linda gasps, her eyes widening like she’s just struck gossip gold. I watch as she collects herself, probably savoring the fact she gets to be the one to break the news.

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