Page 34 of There’s Trouble Brewing

The weather report moved into a new segment. The screen was alive with swirling graphics and bold colors capturing Mark’s attention. An animated banner proclaimed the potential for flooding, its letters shimmering with urgency, demanding the audience’s focus. And all the while, Mark sat frozen, each heartbeat a silent drum of worry. Emily had told Sue she was headed back to Hero to grab the rest of her belongings before heading for Montana. He knew he could be overreacting, but part of him was worried she wouldn’t make it to Hero safely.

His mind swirled with images of her wavy black hair under that bright red helmet, petite frame leaning into the curves, pushing the bike faster than it should go through the rain. He stood up and threw on his jacket, the keys to his truck already tight in his fist. If she was gone by the time he got there...he didn’t finish the thought. Couldn’t.

As he drove to the hotel, Mark couldn’t get her face out of his head. Her smile. Her laugh. Her tough-girl bravado that made his heart skip and swell all at once.

“I’m not letting anythinghappen to her,” he muttered as if she could hear him. She was too important to him, and he should have told her that when he had the chance. It was stupid of him to let his pride get in the way.

The engine roared to life. The loud sound was matched only by the urgency pounding in his veins. Streets flashed by as fat drops spattered against the windshield. He rushed toward the hotel, hoping he wasn’t too late.

Tires sloshed through deepening puddles, the threat of rain breaking into full fury. Everything around him blurred, a watercolor of dark streets and old brick buildings. Debris cluttered the road, remnants of branches and a loose piece of fence that had already come apart in the wind. He swerved and dodged, each move an extension of the resolve that burned through the center of him. He didn’t care if his shoulders tensed and his heart thudded. The focus was razor-sharp, unwavering.

Emily, he thought, almost like a prayer. Her image flickered, not as a memory this time but something closer, something he could reach if he only drove a little faster. The picture of her was so vivid—those warm brown eyes, always on the verge of a challenge or a laugh.

The truck careened onto the hotel street, each second stretching out with the weight of everything he’d never said. He braked hard, the world coming to an abrupt, breathless stop. There it was, the hotel in all its dim-lit familiarity. He leaped out, leaving his truck in the lot; every step screamed urgency, a single thought pounding with the rhythm of his feet. He wouldn’t lose her. Not now. Not like this.

A loud bang, followed by another. The hallway reverberated with violence just as Mark turned the corner just in time to see Emily’s ex, Dave, pounding on her hotel door like a man out of control.

The desire to protect Emily propelled Mark forward,each step a promise he wouldn’t let the other man put a hand on her. Not ever. “Get away from her room right now,” Mark’s voice cut through the heavy air, each word sharp as the distance closed between them.

Dave spun around, face twisted with surprise that turned quickly to scorn. “This is none of your business,” he shouted, his fist still poised to hammer the door again.

“Leave her alone,” Mark yelled back, his tone leaving no room for argument. Or so he thought.

Her ex stepped forward, defiance dripping off him. “You gonna make me?” He moved in, chest to chest now. This was a guy who was used to scaring people, making them give in. Well, not this time. This time, Dave had met his match.

Mark didn’t flinch, didn’t care about anything but making sure this guy understood he wouldn’t get near Emily again. Not while Mark was around. “You heard me,” Mark snapped, every muscle tensed, ready to pounce if he needed to.

Dave sneered and narrowed his eyes. “You think you’re some kind of hero?” he spat, throwing a wild punch, a glancing blow Mark dodged by a breath.

The other man was raw violence, all rage and desperation, fists flailing with the wild swing of a man who only knew brute force. This was a guy desperate to win and willing to throw everything at the fight.

Every muscle in Mark’s body was alive, responding to Dave’s fury with the steadiness of a man who had weathered much worse. His blocks and strikes met each attack with an intensity that would not falter.

Mark’s training as a swift water rescue officer kicked in, adrenaline fueling his focus and resolve. He ducked and spun with determination. Each move was fueled by something more than a desire to dominate. Each blow helanded was edged with something ruthless because he was fighting for Emily. Every strike and block a pledge that she was too precious to let someone hurt her.

This guy got angrier by the moment, like he was a man used to getting his way. Mark could imagine how this guy had tried to control Emily, how he believed their short-lived shared history meant he owned her.

They grappled, a whirlwind of limbs and fury until her ex managed to shove Mark hard against the wall. Pain shot through his side, causing his old injury to scream, but he didn’t care. He refused to let it slow him. Emily was all he saw, all he needed to push back with everything he had.

Dave threw another punch. Mark ducked low and came up fast with a jab that sent the guy staggering back. He followed up with two more blows, knocking the other man to the floor.

Sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder. Mark barely noticed. All his energy was pinned on Dave and keeping him from hurting Emily. He couldn’t stop when her safety was on the line.

Mark didn’t even realize there were lights flashing until the uniforms were on them, breaking it up and pulling Dave away as Mark explained what happened. Emily’s ex struggled against the police, shouting threats and obscenities until they dragged him off in handcuffs. Mark watched, breath coming out hard, muscles burning, rage and anxiety tangling in his chest. All of it mingled with something else now, something sharper—fear.

In the frenzied melee, the door had gotten knocked open. Mark’s heart pounded as he turned toward it, each step weighted with the hope of seeing Emily’s face safe and sound. He wanted to hear her laugh it off and tell him he was being too overprotective. He reached the threshold,took in the emptiness of the room, and knew he was too late. Emily was gone.

Panic set in, cold and quick, and he fought to keep it at bay. She’d already left. Already taken off, thinking she could outrun the storm and the mess of emotions he’d tangled her in. The fear that he was too late, that he’d lost her for good, clenched around him.

He stood there, soaked with adrenaline and something too close to heartbreak. He had to find her. He had to make sure she was safe. Because as long as she was out there, alone and unreachable, nothing else mattered.

Instincts kicked in, sharp and honed from years of rescue work. Mark cut through the night; each turn was a battle against time and the storm that seemed to grow from within him. He pushed the truck faster, tires barely gripping the rain-slicked roads.

The what-ifs ran wild, battling for space in his mind. What if the bike slid out on wet roads? What if he wasn’t fast enough, strong enough to catch her before she slipped away for good? His ribs ached at the thought, but he did his best to shake it off, gripping the wheel tighter and pushing the truck faster.

A flash of color in the distance, a smear of red and chrome. He jerked the wheel, came to a shuddering stop at the roadside, and he was out, running toward it. When he found her bike—twisted and alone at the side of the road—he thought for one breathless second that his heart had stopped. The motorcycle lay crumpled, the back wheel still spinning like it was trying to catch up with the rest of Emily. Steam rose from the wreckage, the ghost of an accident still fresh, still breathing its terrible implications into the storm-choked air. His worst fears gained shape and form, each one a punch to the gut.

No sign of her. No Emily anywhere, just the hauntingevidence of her hurried departure. What if she was injured, lying somewhere in the rain? What if she was...he couldn’t even finish the thought. His breath came quick, too quick, the adrenaline sharpening the edges of everything he saw.

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