Serving Trouble (Second Shot 1)

“I’ll think about it.” Then he turned to the door. “I’m going to crash in my truck. Wake me before we open.”

Chapter Five

WAKE UP, SLEEPING BEAUTY.

The memory of her soft voice floated through his dream. Hours earlier, before the sun sank behind the mountains for the night, Josie had knocked on his truck window. He’d been locked in a dreamscape filled with one boom after another—­an attack so vivid he could almost smell the burning canvas of the tent the insurgents had managed to hit with the rocket fire. Caroline had been by his side, shouldering an M16 while wiping away tears . . .

Caroline.

Noah opened his eyes and stared out into the bright morning sky. Right now, Josie wasn’t standing outside his truck ready to drag his ass into the bar when all he wanted to do was pull her in and lose himself in her soft curves. To hell with the fact she worked for him. To hell with Dominic and the shit storm he’d rain down on Noah for laying a finger on his sister. To hell with the last five years.

He ran a hand over his face. Sometimes he wished he’d never left the barn that night five years ago. If he could have stayed there with Josie, keeping everyone else on the other side . . . but damn, he couldn’t live the rest of his life believing he could save the world. Tonight marked night five and he couldn’t even find the one person he wanted to help.

Last night, after he’d followed Josie into the bar—­which she’d set up for the busy shift after she’d completed his inventory and done a helluva lot better job than he could have—­he’d endured hours of watching her move and smile at the customers. He’d closed up early and then, he’d gone to meet up with Josh Summers. Together, they’d searched another section of Oregon timber country for Caroline, who sure as shit acted like she didn’t want to be found. He’d driven home close to dawn, parked his truck beside the barn, and rested his eyes for a minute. That minute had extended until the memory of Josie woke him, sporting a whole world of wanting.

He adjusted himself and opened the truck door. As he stepped down, he glanced at the barn. Shit, the light was on again. Had his father wandered out? Not likely. His old man had a hard time navigating the gravel separating the house from the barn with the walker the doctors had insisted he use after the fall. And they didn’t keep animals in there anymore. Too much work.

The side door opened before he reached the structure and a familiar face peered out.

“Caroline?” He stopped four feet from the barn and stared. “How the hell—­”

“I had your address,” she said, her voice soft. Her mouth formed a thin line. Freckles dotted her nose, suggesting her fair skin had been exposed to the elements for a while. And her long dark hair, which he’d grown accustomed to being pulled back in a tight bun, now flowed loose around her shoulders. He didn’t know much about women’s hair, but he knew she needed a brush, and maybe a pair of scissors.

She wore black pants, a baggy black T-­shirt, and combat boots. The clothes were three, maybe four sizes too large for her frame. Between Caroline’s height—­she stood roughly as tall as Josie—­and her delicate girl-­next-­door features, she’d always looked like she belonged in Disney World playing a fairy-­tale princess, not in the US Marine Corps.

“So you walked here from where?” he asked, focusing his sleep-­deprived brain. He moved closer to her, but stayed out of arm’s reach. He wanted to offer her the illusion of safety. He couldn’t make promises, but he doubted there were threats hiding in the barn. He’d been home for months and the only things he’d found were some old furniture, the mechanical bull, and memories.

“I was staying with my sister in Northern California. But he found me,” she said.

“Dustin?” he asked.

“Yes. He showed up and threatened to turn me in.” Her tone was devoid of drama as if she expected to open the door and find her rapist on her doorstep.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked, not that it would change a damn thing. If he saw their former commanding officer again nothing would hold him back. He wouldn’t wait for justice. He’d beat the crap out of Dustin.

She shook her head. “He didn’t touch me. But he said he was planning to call the police.”

And when they found her they’d hand her over to the military. She’d probably face jail time for her unauthorized absence. It wouldn’t matter that she’d run because she couldn’t face serving alongside men who’d fought at her side one minute, placing their lives in her hands, and threatened her the next. And if she had returned, serving with those men would be pure hell because she’d accused one of them—­their leader—­of rape. She’d gotten their commanding officer kicked out of the marines because she’d had a witness willing to testify.

Him.

“So you ran,” he said.

“I needed to find you,” she said. “Dustin’s pissed at me. But he blames you for losing his career. His wife left him and—­we should move inside.”

Caroline scanned the house and the drive, showing a hint of fear for the first time. He knew his dad wouldn’t wake for a few hours. And he was familiar with the sounds—­cars speeding over the dirt road, the neighbor’s rooster, who operated on the assumption that it was always rise-­and-­shine time—­but she clearly viewed them as potential threats.

“Sure,” he said and followed her into the old, mostly empty barn. The hay bales had disappeared years ago, but otherwise the space looked pretty much the same. Old boxes, some

tools, a rusted gate, and a collection of broken furniture that belonged in the dump.

He left the door open behind them, allowing a beam of light to slip in and illuminate the mechanical bull in the corner surrounded by faded red, white, and blue cushions. His dad had thrown an old western saddle over the bull’s back. Now the damn thing looked like it wanted to go for a ride even though it probably hadn’t been turned on since he’d left for basic training.

He followed Caroline into the light and over to the pads surrounding the bull. A backpack rested on the edge, packed and ready to go. It was the only sign she’d been staying in his barn.

“How long have you been here?” he asked. “After you talked to Josh Summers, hell, I’ve been out looking for you every night.”

“Yesterday afternoon,” she said. “I wasn’t sure I could trust Josh. He started talking about how they needed to start clearing the land. And he mentioned the police would be called in to remove anyone found on the premises. So I slipped away when he went to get his phone.”