Page 7 of Lone Star Rescue

Since her own legs were far from steady, Bree sat down on the ground, trying to get her mind to settle enough so she could think straight. Rafe didn’t seem to be having that problem. He had already moved to check Carson for injuries.

Despite not being in an actual uniform but rather dark jeans and a black t-shirt, Rafe looked very much like the military special ops officer he’d been. His moves were quick and efficient. No sign of nerves or hesitation whatsoever despite nearly being killed.

“You must have been good at your job as a Combat Rescue Officer,” Bree heard herself say.

Rafe looked at her, their gazes colliding. And that’s when she realized he wasn’t quite as steady as his quick reactions had led her to believe. He was dragging in some long breaths, and she thought he might be fighting off a panic attack.

PTSD, maybe?

“Flashbacks,” he said as if reading her mind. “I’ll be okay.” And it sounded as if he was trying to convince himself of that.

“Definitely good at your job,” she repeated. Because despite this having shaken him to the core, he was holding it together.

“Sometimes, I was good at it,” he answered after a long pause. “If you ever need rescuing, there’s an eighty percent chance I’ll be successful.” It seemed he added that last bit as an attempt to make things lighter.

“Good to know,” she muttered. “And the other twenty percent?” Bree had to ask.

Something went through his cool green eyes. Something dark and not so cool. “The other twenty percent is the reason I’m here and not there.”

More darkness. There was definitely an old wound just underneath the surface. She couldn’t recall hearing any near misses or horror stories about Rafe’s time in the service. Then again, what he did had likely been classified and didn’t make headlines or reach the gossips.

The sound of the sirens got closer, and she shifted her attention as the first of the ambulances pulled to a stop in between the two cruisers. Bree got to her feet, motioning for the EMTs to head her way. They did, though both did some gawking at the scene sprawled out in front of them.

Rafe and Bree stepped back to let the EMTs get to Alice and Carson, and since the deputies were now in good hands, Bree and he made their way to the others who were huddled together about ten yards away. Before she reached them, her phone dinged with a text.

“The gas company is sending out an inspector,” Bree relayed to Rafe as she continued to read the message. “Apparently, the gas was turned off here years ago.”

“So, the gas company is wrong. or else someone tampered with it,” Rafe said. “Or someone used a form of gas in the IED that went off.”

Yes. Those were her conclusions, too. Of course, there was the possibility this was some kind of fluke accident, that maybe the gas line had leaked enough to cause this. But that theory didn’t feel right. It especially didn’t feel right, considering the blast had likely destroyed most of the remains.

“More ambulances are on the way,” Bree called out as Rafe and she approached the group by the deputies’ cruiser.

And she could see the EMTs were going to be busy. One of the CSIs had blood spilling down the side of his head. A worker was cradling either an injured or broken arm.

“What the hell happened here?” Wade asked. His head was bleeding as well, and Ollie had his hand pressed against it to try to staunch the flow.

“I’m not sure,” Bree admitted. “But trust me, it’ll be investigated.”

“And my baby girl’s body?” Wade added. “What about her?” His voice cracked on the last word as his attention drifted toward what was left of the grave.

“It’ll be investigated,” Bree repeated, wishing she could give him more.

There was another wail of sirens. And even though every moment seemed like an eternity, the fire engine and another ambulance finally pulled into the driveway. As the first EMTs had done, the responders barreled out of their vehicles. Two EMTs and three firemen, which she knew was the entire day shift.

“Tend to them,” Bree instructed the EMTs, pointing to Ollie, Wade, the CSIs, and the workers. She motioned for the fire chief, Davy Werner, to step aside with her. “The gas company is sending someone out, but I’d like this whole area evacuated, including the ranches that are within a quarter of a mile of here. Can you and your crew help with that?”

“Absolutely,” Davy was quick to agree, and he opened his mouth to say something else, stopped and shook his head. “Hell, Bree. It looks like a damn warzone out here. And I heard somebody found Tessa Wainwright’s body.”

Bree sighed, hating that word like that was already going around, but gossip was fast in a small ranching town. Especially gossip about a woman who’d once been prom queen, cheerleader, and most likely to succeed all in one.

Tessa had also been Rafe’s girlfriend.

His lover. And Bree needed to make sure she remembered that when they spoke. She’d need to tread lightly in case he still had feelings for Tessa.

She would need to tread lightly with herself, too. Because, well, there were her own old residual feelings for Rafe. Ones that he thankfully never knew about. There was already enough awkwardness between them without adding that.

“It’s possibly Tessa,” Bree muttered, but then she stopped as well. “There was a red leather jacket on the remains.”

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