Serving Trouble (Second Shot 1)

She struggled to put the pieces together. Why, after all this time, would Travis come after her? She’d barely seen him since she’d returned home. Not after Noah kicked him out of the bar.

But he’d seen her. He’d been watching them. Her. Noah. Caroline.

“You’re the one who sent the pictures,” she murmured. “And you shot at Noah.”

“You didn’t even see me up in that hunting stand. I would have made the shot if you hadn’t played chicken, hiding behind the tree.”

I wasn’t there.

He’d mistaken Caroline for her.

“You were after me,” she said, her hands trembling. Oh God, after all these years, her pissed-­off, hot-­tempered ex had been hiding out, hunting for her. It felt as if her life was spiraling out of her control. Maybe Noah was right to fear the things that were far beyond his power. She’d been so sure someone was searching for poor, paranoid Caroline.

“Not you,” he sneered, keepi

ng the barrel pointed at her. “I’m here for Noah. He’s humiliated me one too many times. Starting rumors. After he broke my nose, I couldn’t get a job. Did he tell you that? Word got out that I had anger issues. I couldn’t pay for school. Now who do you suppose started those rumors?”

Someone you hurt? Someone you hit?

She’d never breathed a word. Noah was the only witness. But now she wished she’d spoken up. How many women had he hurt? How many girlfriends fell for him and then stepped back in shock when he unleashed his anger? Had they blamed themselves? Or started spreading rumors . . .

“It wasn’t Noah,” she said.

“He kicked me out of Big Buck’s. I come in for one damn shot. A chance to welcome you home—­”

A shudder ran down her spine. She didn’t want his welcome. But she’d never suspected it would lead to this.

“He refused to serve me in front of the whole fucking bar because you ran away from me,” Travis continued, his grip tightening on the shotgun. “Let’s see how much of a hero he is when I point a gun in his face.”

“If you want to find out,” Noah called from behind her. The sound of his voice moved along with the click of his work boots on the barn’s cement floor. “You’d better aim that thing at me.”

NOAH STARED AT the shotgun as the truth sank in. Night after night, he’d been chasing a threat that didn’t exist. He’d been convinced Dustin had followed Caroline to Oregon. But Dustin wasn’t out there. And Travis Taylor, the man he’d fought five years ago, didn’t want a piece of the AWOL marine—­he wanted Noah.

Come and get me, asshole.

He would do anything to keep that gun aimed at him. Anything to keep Josie safe.

“You want to see me cower?” Noah challenged again, his gaze locked on Travis. His heart raced, beating faster and faster each second the gun remained aimed at Josie. “I’m your target, Travis. I’m the one to blame. Point the gun at me.”

The shotgun cut through the air. Travis held it steady, his dark eyes glistening with excitement. Noah knew that look. He’d witnessed it while deployed—­on both sides of the battle. Travis wanted to hurt.

Don’t hurt Josie.

“Take your shot, man,” Noah called. Keeping Travis’s attention on him—­that was the only element he could control. Everything else about this clusterfuck was out of his power.

I’m not going to let you down, Josie. I’m going to keep my promise. I’ll keep you and the baby safe.

He heard a soft gasp, but didn’t risk looking at Josie. One glance might draw Travis’s attention back to her. And yeah, he was close to counting his lucky stars that he’d sent Caroline up to the house after they’d hiked out to the hunting stand, hoping to find a clue. A paranoid marine wouldn’t add to this equation. Plus, he wanted her out of range. Josie too.

Go to the door, Josie.

He sensed movement, but he resisted the urge to steal a glance.

“You have me, Travis,” he said, raising his hands palms up in a show of surrender.

“Some war hero,” Travis said with a laugh.

Beneath the sound of his voice, Noah heard the soft roar of a machine coming to life.