Page 3 of Finding His Redemption

He didn’t stop moving.

Didn’t look back.

The ranch driveway was long, at least a mile. He followed it to a dusty two-lane road and picked a direction to start walking. He was maybe three miles out when the sound of a car engine broke through his thoughts. A teal sedan came around the bend and rolled to a stop with its hazard lights flashing.

Jax slowed his pace, puzzled, until he got close enough to see the reason for it. Flat tire.

A woman climbed out of the driver’s seat and looked at the flat. She kicked the tire with one booted foot, then pulled a phone from her jacket pocket. But she didn’t call anyone. Instead, she replaced the phone in her pocket and kicked the tire again, before turning to lean back against the car, head dropped back, shoulders slumped in pure defeat. Her hair was dark and pulled back, but loose strands whipped around her face in the wind.

She looked like she was holding it together by a thread.

He could relate.

“Does kicking it help?” His voice was rusty from disuse, but she turned sharply toward him.

She watched him approach with big, dark eyes far too world-weary for someone who couldn’t even be thirty yet.

“No,” she said finally and pushed off the car, positioning herself between it and him. “But it makes me feel better. Are you from Valor Ridge?”

He didn’t know how to answer that. Yes, he’d come from there, but was hefromthere? No. And he didn’t plan to be.

“I’m just passing through.” He stopped walking a good distance away from her. He didn’t want to scare her. “Do you have a spare? I can help you fix that if you want.”

She looked back at the car, and he caught sight of a small figure moving around in the backseat. A kid.

Her gaze returned to him. “You’re not a murderer, are you?”

Not for lack of trying.

Again, he didn’t know how to respond, so he kept his mouth shut.

She shifted on her feet and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “People in town talk about the men at the Ridge. How you’re all dangerous, and none of you should be trusted.”

What would she say if she knew he’d been out of prison for less than forty-eight hours? But she didn’t sound afraid. More like she was resigned to whatever fate might throw at her next.

“I can change the tire,” he said instead of answering.

The kid stuck its face against the window, staring at him with just as much suspicion as the woman. Jax couldn’t tell if it was a boy or a girl.

“Mom?”

“It’s okay, honey,” she said without looking away from Jax. Like taking her eyes off him might be a mistake.

Silence stretched between them, only broken by the mournful coo of a bird.

“I’m not going to hurt you or your kid,” he said at last. “But if you’re not comfortable, I get it. Just point me to town, and I’ll send help your way.”

She watched him for another long moment before fishing keys out of her jacket pocket and unlocking the trunk. Then she stepped back, keeping herself positioned between him and her kid like a human shield. “I’d appreciate the help.”

“I’ll be quick.” He set down his duffle and raised his hands in front of him as he approached. He found the spare tire and jack under a pile of reusable grocery bags.

He circled the car to reach the flattened passenger side tire and saw the kid more clearly—a little boy with wide brown eyes like his mom’s. He guessed the boy’s age was somewhere north of diapers and south of school, but he had no experience with children, so the kid could still be a baby for all he knew. The car seat definitely tipped the scale toward baby. How long did kids ride in those?

He crouched by the flat, set the jack, and started cranking. The woman stayed near her kid, worrying her lower lip with her teeth, her arms crossed defensively. He worked in silence, methodical and efficient, the way he’d been trained to approacheverything. The lug nuts were stubborn. He put his full weight into loosening them, and they finally gave.

The kid kept staring at him through the car window. Jax avoided that gaze as best he could while he swapped out the flat for the spare and tightened everything back into place.

When he finished, he wiped his hands on his jeans, then stepped back to pack away the tools and the flattened tire in the trunk. “Should be good now.”

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