Page 34 of Ranger Belief
“Laney.” Jonah stepped forward, his hand lifted as if he intended to touch her.
“Don’t.” Her voice was hard. Unyielding. Harsh.
He froze. A flash of devastation swept over his handsome features before he tucked it away.
She couldn’t do this. If he touched her, she’d kiss him again, which would only make things worse. But she also couldn’t take the hurt that would follow from this horrible mistake. “Let’s just focus on the case, okay? We’ll deal with this…later.”
He was quiet for a long beat. “I’ll call it in.”
Laney nodded, and without looking at him, started the trek back to the cabin. Tears filled her eyes, and she battled them back. Her tennis shoes beat against the damp earth. Branches and briars tugged at her soaked pajamas, and she slipped on muddy patches. Her mind couldn’t process anything that’d happened in the last half hour. Not the shooting, or chasing the suspect.
Or the kiss. Definitely not the kiss.
Her cabin came into view. Bullet holes riddled the entire back side. The window on her back door and the one over her sink were busted. Laney raced up the porch steps. Inside was more chaos. Broken glass littered the floor. A bullet had slammed into her refrigerator. Another had broken the doggie cookie jar on her counter, shattering it.
Scout! She’d checked immediately after the shooting to ensure her dog was okay, but then she’d abandoned her to take off after the perpetrator. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Scout suffered from PTSD and reacted badly to flash bangs and gunfire. She must be terrified. On shaky legs, Laney crossed the kitchen. “Scout!”
The Labrador didn’t bark, nor did she come running. A new wave of worry snapped her focus into place. Laney burst into the living room, her gaze sweeping the room in search of Scout. The dog wasn’t there. Raindrops dripped off her pajamas and hair, leaving a trail of water in her wake as she headed for the bedroom. “Scout, sweetie, where are you?”
There was no sign of her dog. Her bed was empty, the frame too low for Scout to crawl under. Laney ran into the bathroom, searching, but Scout wasn’t there. A wild thought struck her. Had there been two perpetrators involved? Had someone snuck into her house while she and Jonah were chasing the shooter and taken Scout? She couldn’t fathom the reason for doing so, but then she also couldn’t understand murder. Or unloading dozens of rounds on two members of law enforcement.
Laney raced back into the bedroom. In her panic and fear, she nearly missed the half-open closet door. Her pulse skyrocketed. She crossed the room in three strides, yanking the door open wide.
And her heart shattered.
Scout was balled up in a corner in the back of the closet. Her entire body trembled, and when she looked at Laney, her sorrowful brown eyes held sheer terror.
Laney dropped to the floor and wrapped her arms around her dog. “I’m here, sweetie. I’m here.” Seeing Scout in such distress unlocked her own. Tears ran down her cheeks and dripped off her chin as she whispered words of comfort. Scout crawled into her lap. Gradually, the trembling subsided.
As her dog relaxed, Laney’s own frantic thoughts settled. She stroked Scout's soft ears. Exhaustion set in as the adrenaline faded. For the first time, she could think clearly about what she'd done.
Chasing an armed suspect through the woods had been…reckless. Yes, she knew every tree and trail better than anyone, and yes, her fury at seeing Scout terrorized and Jonah threatened had driven her forward. But that hadn’t justified her actions. She'd left her traumatized dog alone and put herself—and subsequently Jonah—in unnecessary danger. Jonah had been right to be angry with her.
She screwed up.
“I should have stayed with you,” she whispered against Scout's fur. “I’m so sorry, girl.”
Scout’s answer was a kiss on her cheek. She nuzzled her dog, wishing they could stay hidden in the dark closet forever. A part of her wanted to be angry with Jonah. How could he have kissed her? What possessed him? But she was humble enough to see her part in it.
She'd kissed him back. Passionately. A momentary hormonal blip that had probably cost Laney her best friend. Because there was no going back. Oh, they'd built a friendship after dating for a month in college, sure. But back then, they hadn't had the foundation of a fifteen-year history. This time, things were different. The rejection would cut deeper.
And there would be rejection. There always was. Nothing lasted forever, and Laney always cut and run before things got too real. Deep romantic connections were messy. Confusing. Heartbreaking. Jonah was a forever kind of guy. And she didn’t believe in happily-ever-after.
Her mother hadn’t gotten one. Why should Laney be any different?
The thought of going out there…of facing Jonah…she didn’t know how she was going to handle it.
But she had to. Laney couldn’t hide in the dark closet forever.
Gathering her courage, she pushed to her feet and, on rubbery legs, went into the bathroom. She washed her face, combed her hair, and pulled on a fresh ranger uniform. With her armor in place, Laney went back through the house and outside. In the fifteen minutes she’d been in the house, deputies had arrived. So had Ryker. He stood assessing the back of the cabin with Jonah.
And it was Jonah she couldn’t tear her eyes away from.
Like her, he’d changed out of his wet clothes. A cowboy hat cast shadows over his eyes, and his sleeves were rolled up, revealing powerful forearms. She tried not to notice the way the fabric of his shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, tried not to remember how solid those muscles had felt under her hands.
This was Jonah. Her best friend. Her rock. The one person she could always count on through deployments, career changes, her mother's illness…everything.
She couldn’t—absolutely refused—to think of him like this. Not if they stood any chance of salvaging their relationship.
