Page 57 of Army Ranger Redemption

That didn’t mean she couldn’t offer.

As he turned off the main road, he said, “I’m going to swing by my place first, if that’s okay. I want to make sure Dax locked up the garage when he finished working on his bike.”

“Okay, but you don’t need to bring your toothbrush. I have extras.”

“Is that a dig at me because I didn’t have any extras when you stayed here?”

“Actually, I was happy to see that you weren’t prepared for overnight...guests.”

He pulled into his drive and leaned over and pinched her chin. “I wish I had been more prepared for you—in every way.”

“If you’d been prepared, that would’ve ruined all the excitement.”

“You like excitement? I think we’ve had more than enough of that around here.”

“Isn’t that what you signed up for when you decided to come back and find out what happened to you twenty-five years ago?”

“I didn’t realize there would be people today hell-bent on keeping that truth from me.”

“Makes you wonder what they’re hiding.”

He tapped on the windshield. “Good thing we swung by here. I can see already that Dax left that garage door wide open...unless he’s still working out there.”

“Let’s find out.” She hopped out of the car, which rocked as Jim slammed his door.

“Dax?” Jim strode toward the garage, while she hung back.

Drops of rain started hitting the ground and pinging the top of her head. Head down, she jogged toward the covered porch. As she reached the top step, the wind gusted and rattled the screen door.

She jerked her head to the side, noticing the open front door. Taking one step down on the porch, she yelled, “Jim! I think he’s inside.”

She studied the entrance to the garage, but Jim didn’t answer or appear.

She returned to the front door, made a half turn and grabbed the screen door handle, her hand closing around a sticky substance. She snatched her hand back and spread her fingers in front of her face.

The sight of the blood smeared across her palm made her gag. She ignored the faint voice in her head urging her to turn and run.

As if on autopilot, she reached for the screen door again with the same hand. She yanked it open and almost tripped over the booted feet of Jim’s brother—lying on the floor in a pool of blood.

Chapter Thirteen

For the second time that week, a bloodcurdling scream from Scarlett made the hair on the back of his neck stand at attention.

Jim dropped the shredded tire he’d been inspecting and spun around, keeping his bum leg stiff so he wouldn’t trip over it.

He ran toward the house, where he could see Scarlett’s back at the door. With his heart pounding out of his chest, he raced up the drive and took both steps in a single bound.

He grabbed Scarlett’s shoulders and yanked her back against his chest.

His gut heaved when he saw Dax laid out on the floor, blood meandering in a slick trail leading from his body. He shoved his phone into Scarlett’s hand.

“Call 911.”

He crouched beside his brother and felt for his pulse, weak but ticking. “He’s still alive.”

He rolled Dax onto his back and ripped off his shirt, already slashed open with a knife.

“Get me a towel.”

Still speaking into the phone, Scarlett stepped over Dax’s inert form and returned seconds later with several towels.

She thrust one toward Jim. “An ambulance is on the way.”

Jim folded the towel and pressed it against the wound that zigzagged from his brother’s chest to his belly. If the knife had hit an artery, Dax didn’t stand a chance.

Jim applied as much pressure as he safely could while whispering to his brother, “Hang on, man. You’ve come too far to let go.”

“Can I do anything? He has some cuts on his hands. Should I put pressure on those?”

Sirens called from down the road and Jim said, “Go out and direct the ambulance into the driveway.”

She sprang to her feet and stumbled outside.

A minute later, two EMTs bustled through the front door and nudged Jim away from Dax. “Good job. We’ll take it from here.”

Jim backed up, leaving the towel in place. He gazed at his hands, stained with Dax’s blood.

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