Page 5 of Finding His Redemption

Maybe he was, too, because he found himself almost smiling. “That’s a relief.”

She leaned over the seat and pushed the passenger side door open. “Get in.”

Yeah, why the hell not? It beat walking. And the faster he could get away from Valor Ridge, the better.

He slid into the seat and placed the duffel on the floor between his feet. The car was old, but well-kept. It smelled like cinnamon and sugar. Or maybe that was the woman beside him.

The boy gawked from the back with those huge, fascinated eyes. “Hi! I’m Oliver, and this is my truck.” He held up a toy fire truck. “Do you know a lot about fire trucks?”

Jax blinked. “Uh, I know they’re red.”

“Oh, you’ve done it now,” the kid’s mom said. She shifted the car into gear and turned around on the narrow dirt road.

“Well, yeah, but there are differentkinds,” Oliver said like a professor schooling a dim-witted student. “Ladder trucks have the big ladders that go up-up-up and rescue people from tall buildings. Pumper trucks have hoses and tanks with like five hundred gallons of water! That’s a lot, right?”

Jax wasn’t sure if the question was rhetorical or not, so he kept silent.

Oliver plowed on, barely taking a breath. “Andsomefire trucks are called quints, which is short for quintuple.” He held up his hand, splayed wide. “That means they can do five things.”

Did the kid ever stop talking? “Yeah?”

“Yeah!” Oliver bounced a little in his seat. “They have a pump, a water tank, a hose, a ladder,andground ladders! That’s all five.”

The woman glanced over, smiling. “Sorry. He’s on a fire truck kick right now. Last month it was dinosaurs.”

“I’m gonna be a firefighteranda paleontologist. They study dinosaurs,” Oliver added seriously, and then just looked at him like he expected a response.

Jesus, what was he supposed to say? “That’s… ambitious.”

Oliver’s brow crinkled. “What’s am-bit-shush?”

“It means you have big plans,” his mother explained.

Oliver nodded. “I do. Iamam-bit-shush.” Then he beamed. “What’s your name?”

Jax hesitated. And then, because it didn’t matter—because this was just a detour, and the kid didn’t know him or what he’d done—he said, “Jax.”

The woman smiled over at him. “Hi, Jax. I’m Vanessa, but everyone calls me Nessie.”

“Like the monster,” Oliver added helpfully.

Jax looked out the window and said nothing. He didn’t care about their names. He just needed to put as many miles between him and Valor Ridge as possible.

chapter

two

Strays always seemedto find Vanessa Harmon.

Three cats. A mangy, one-eyed dog. A bearded dragon. A chinchilla. And now, apparently, a six-foot-something ex-con with a haunted stare and scarred hands that looked like they could snap a man’s neck.

Maybehadsnapped a man’s neck.

Oh, God. She must be crazy.

She hadn’t planned on giving him a ride. Hadn’t meant to invite him into her bakery. It was stupid and reckless, and after spending the whole of her son’s life doing everything in her power to protect him, it was completely out of character. But there was something about Jax… something broken that felt familiar.

And, God help her, but she’d always had a soft spot for the broken ones.

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