Page 1 of The Unbuttoned Ranger
CHAPTER ONE
The sounds of chaos unleashing was always a deafening cacophony in Sharp Creed’s opinion.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
Doors being slammed.
“Let’s get out of here.”
Tires rooster tail on gravel, flinging rock all over Sharp.
He knew he was hit.
It didn’t look good.
The debris on the berm cut into his face but he was numb. His vision blurred. A softness washed over him, and a bright light replaced the lush pasture. He could see cattle moseying along, paying him no attention like this was just another moment in their eventful days.
“Don’t suppose any of you are willing to use a phone and call for help?” Sharp muttered.
He couldn’t move. His body seemed rooted to the crumbled side of the road where he’d been gunned down while fixing a flat on his way to Fin’s Creek. His phone, radio…even his gun was all inside the truck.
Good place for them.
He managed to roll onto his back. He stared up into the clear blue sky. It could be worse, he guessed. It could be pouring rain.
Pain spread through his body. This wasn’t the ending he’d imagined—there was no gunfight, and he hadn’t even beenarmed when shot. He struggled against the darkness closing in. At thirty-eight, there was so much he’d left unfinished: marriage, kids, a post-military life he’d planned but never achieved. As the pain faded, resistance vanished, replaced by an unexpected warmth.
He better not be pissing himself.
A man should never die in his own piss.
Another thought bombarded his weak senses. Would anyone show up to his funeral?
Who would take care of his pa?
Sharp swore if he made it out alive, he would tell his pa how much he loved him and do more to help the man who’d always been there for him. And he’d find a woman and get hitched. Yep…that was exactly what he’d do. His future became crystal clear on the brink of death.
He saw something on the stretch of road. A silhouette that formed into…
His ma.
He blinked.“It’s been a long time, Ma.”
That was his last thought as he drifted into a sweet sleep.
I got a man down. He took a bullet. I need a chopper now.”
The frantic voice reached Sharp Creed through a haze. He heard the static of a radio, then the voice on the other end came over,“Ruber One to Heat. Bird in flight. Over.”
Who the hell were they calling a bird for?
Sharp managed to roll his head to the side and blinked at the bright sunlight. Someone leaned over him, rubbing his knuckles in Sharp’s sternum.
“You’re going to be okay. There you are. Wake up.”
He knew that voice.
“Grimes?” Sharp tasted the dirt and blood that coated his parched lips.
