“Come on, Legend, let’s go inside for a bit.” I look at him. He’s happy, his tongue is lolling out, and his belly is up facing the sky.
I climb out of the pool and grab a towel, wrapping it around my body as I go. The afternoon sun is starting to get to me. Plus, knowing Bridger, he’ll be back and want to either cook dinner or go out to grab a bite to eat.
The two of us walk inside the house, the alarm beeping when the door opens, and neither of us are paying attention, that is until I hear the clicking of a gun.
My feet skid to a halt. The towel I have wrapped around my body starts to fall, but I hold it tight. Tighter than ever, acting like the piece of cotton will protect me from the person standing in front of me with a gun raised, pointing right at me.
The thoughts going through my mind are on repeat. Every moment that I could have spent with Bridger, the words we have yet to say to each other, the plans we both have made. The fact that Bridger wants a big family like his own, not caring if they’re full of hellion girls like his sisters or terrors like Drake’s brothers.
I want that so much, and I want to confess my love to him. Instead, I may never get that chance, which is why I have tears rolling down my cheeks and not one single survival instinct is kicking in. All the self-defense moves Bridger has taught me are gone. There are guns stowed in various places in the house, yet not in a place where I can reach one. I’m stuck, and it’s the worst feeling in the world.
Eighteen
Bridger
I knew that fucking bastard was in town. Shit, all of us did. Those spidey senses we tend to have let us know the moment something seemed off. Not to mention Travis had his deputies’ eyes peeled for out-of-state tags. With Lodgeview being a small town, everyone talks, watches, and listens.
Slade, Travis, and Drake met me on the outskirts of our neighborhood, suited up and ready to rock ‘n’ roll. Travis may be a man of the law and has to adhere to certain guidelines, but he’ll cover our asses if it’s needed.
“You going to be able to handle this?” Drake asks.
I’m standing outside of our vehicles, my feet spread apart, hands on my hips, guns in my shoulder holsters, and knowing I left the alarm unsecured and Kellie in there. It’s churning my gut raw. “Yeah, but if we could speed up this fucking process, that would be mighty nice.”
“Travis is going in first. We don’t have much wiggle room with that,” Slade states. He’s not wrong. That doesn’t mean I have to like it very much.
I nod my head in agreement. “Drake, your ass is in the Tahoe. If we need an ambulance, you’re there.”
“This is fucking bullshit. My shoulder will be fine,” he grumps.
“Says the man who is scheduled to have surgery in fourteen days. The answer is still no,” Slade stands his ground, and Drake backs down. Even though he swears his shoulder is fine, we all know he’s in pain. He wouldn’t be chewing Tylenol like there’s no tomorrow if he wasn’t.
“Fuck this shit. I’m scheduling my surgery for tomorrow. This is the second time this fucked-up body has messed with getting any action.” I try not to snort at that, but the fucker doesn’t ever get any action.
“Can’t say that I blame you,” Slade responds.
“I told you so. All that pumping of your forearm has fucked up your shoulder.” Travis snorts before clearing his throat. It breaks up the heaviness all around us, something I needed as much as my brothers did too.
“Bridger, you take the back side of the house. I’ll follow Travis’s lead.” We all agree, then we’re doing our own thing. My pace is quickened while I stay in the tree line and out of sight. Who knows if this dumb fuck is armed or not. I’ve seen the reports on what he did with his fists to Kellie, and I will not ever allow that to happen again. Shit, it eats me up inside he laid his hands on her the first time, even though we hadn’t even met. Kellie is my soul. If something were to happen to her, it would tear at me, piece by piece until there was nothing left.
“Bridger, you read?” Travis speaks into the communication devices we’re all wearing.
“Copy.” I’m to the left of the sliding glass door that’s standing open, not able to see a hill of beans, but able to hear the tremble in Kellie’s voice when she speaks.
“What are you doing here?” Her voice is quivering, and I know she’s scared. When a victim confronts their abuser, it’s not easy. Fuck, it’s not easy listening to the woman I love hurting and not being able to pull her into my arms.