Page 140 of Finding His Redemption

He was determined to take her on a real date—a belated birthday present, since circumstances hadn’t allowed them to celebrate on the actual day.

Not just crashing into bed together after Oliver passed out, but something that actually said,Hey, I’m serious about this.

He’d secured a babysitter—Johanna was more than happy to take Oliver for the evening—and cleaned himself up, putting on a button-up and his best jeans. He’d packed several dresses for Nessie to change into, not sure which she’d want, and had already gotten the okay for her to use Mariah’s shower to clean up before they left.

Then, at the last moment, as he pulled onto Main Street, he decided he needed to get her flowers, too, and ducked into Pine & Bloom.

“These are perfect,” he told Mariah, nodding toward the mixed bouquet she’d put together. Pale pink roses, baby’s breath, and cheerful daisies that reminded him of the mugNessie had poured his coffee into the morning they met. “She’ll love them.”

Mariah smiled, her hands gentle as she wrapped the stems in brown paper. “Nessie deserves something beautiful. She’s been working herself to the bone in that bakery.”

He glanced out the flower shop’s window toward the bakery—and his grin froze, his gut twisting as he watched Dewey Stafford disappear inside with a red gas can clutched in his meaty fist.

No.

Every instinct Jax had honed through years of combat and survival screamed danger.

“Mariah.” Her name came out sharp from fear, and she looked up from the arrangement, her brow crinkled.

“What—”

“Call the Ridge. Tell them to get down here now. And Marshal Brandt! Something’s wrong at Nessie’s.” He was already moving, shoving out the door, his boots eating up the pavement between the florist and Nessie’s Place.

The bakery’s new front windows were dark, the interior lost in shadow. No sign of movement, no flash of Nessie’s dark hair or her easy smile. Just a stillness that felt wrong, like the moment before an IED detonated.

His hand closed around the doorknob, twisting hard. Locked. Through the glass, he caught a flicker of movement, heard the faint sound of Nessie’s voice rising in distress.

No time to think. No time for anything but action.

He took two steps back, planted his left foot, and drove his boot into the door just beside the lock. The wood splintered with a crack that echoed down the empty street. His second kick sent the door flying inward, banging against the wall as he charged through.

The acrid stench of gasoline hit him like a punch. Dewey stood in the center of the bakery, a lit match suspended between his fingers, his face twisted in surprise at the sudden intrusion. Nessie was backed against the counter, her face pale with terror, eyes wide as they locked with Jax’s.

“Don’t drop it!” Jax roared, but Dewey’s fingers were already opening, the match tumbling in slow motion toward the gasoline-soaked floor.

Jax lunged, moving on pure instinct. He tackled Dewey with enough force to send them both crashing into a table, away from where the match had fallen. Behind them, flames erupted with a whoosh, instantly climbing the nearest wall.

Heat scorched his back as he pinned Dewey to the floor, one forearm pressed against the man’s throat. “Nessie, get out!” he shouted, not daring to look away from the postal worker. Dewey thrashed beneath him, more powerful than he looked, his face contorted with rage.

“You ruined everything!” Dewey spat, twisting to free himself. His hand shot up, and something glinted in the firelight—a box cutter, its blade extended.

Jax caught the movement a split second too late. The blade sliced across his forearm, a line of fire opening his skin. Blood welled instantly, warm and slick, but he barely felt it. Combat training took over, narrowing his focus to the threat in front of him.

He slammed Dewey’s wrist against the floor until the blade clattered away, then drove his knee into the man’s sternum, pinning him more securely. The smoke was thickening, making his eyes water and his lungs burn.

“Nessie!” he shouted again, risking a glance toward where she’d been.

She wasn’t there.

Dewey bucked beneath him, using Jax’s momentary distraction to break free. He scrambled toward the box cutter, but Jax was faster, tackling him again. This time, he didn’t hold back. He drove his fist into Dewey’s jaw, the impact jarring all the way up his arm. The postal worker’s head snapped back, hitting the floor with enough force to daze him.

“Why?” Jax demanded, grabbing Dewey’s shirt and hauling him half-upright. “Why the hell would you do this?”

“She knows,” Dewey gasped, blood trickling from his split lip. His eyes darted to Nessie. “She saw my truck that night. With Bailee.”

The flames were spreading faster now, eating up the walls and licking at the ceiling. Smoke billowed through the bakery, black and choking. They needed to get out, but Jax couldn’t let Dewey go—not when he’d just confessed to murder.

Through the haze, Jax spotted movement near the counter. Nessie had returned, a red fire extinguisher clutched in her hands. Her face was set with determination as she pulled the pin and aimed the nozzle at the base of the flames. White foam erupted from the extinguisher, coating the burning wall with a hissing sound. The chemical smell cut through the smoke and gasoline fumes as Nessie moved methodically, sweeping the spray across the worst of the blaze.

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