2. Bradyn
CHAPTER 2
brADYN
E xhausted and more than ready for a hot shower and a good night’s sleep, I guide my truck up the long drive to the place I’ve spent most of my life. Given the early January climate, the large magnolia trees lining the drive are bare, but I can picture them as they were when I left in late October—lush and green, and caging over the road like a protective archway guiding me in.
Man, it’s good to be home.
“You ready, boy?” I ask Bravo, who’s currently sitting in the passenger seat, peering out the window, clearly ready to get out and run. He glances over at me, big brown eyes excited, tongue hanging out the side of his mouth. His tail starts wagging, thumping happily against the seat. I laugh. “Me, too, boy.” We missed Thanksgiving, Christmas, and the New Year celebration, but missing those is such a small price to pay for getting those girls and young women home where they belong.
Three months well spent, though I am more than ready for a meal that didn’t come premade in a sealed pack. My cell rings, so I hit the button on my steering wheel to answer it hands-free. “Hunt.”
“You make it home?” Silas sounds as exhausted as I feel.
“Just pulling in now. How’s Bianca?”
“She’s a rock as always. Still no baby, but we’re thinking it could be anytime now.”
“Then why are you wasting time on me?”
He chuckles. “Just wanted to make sure you made it home okay.”
“I did, thanks for checking. And thanks for stepping in on the assist. I really appreciate it.”
“No problem. You did most of the work. I just showed up.”
“You showed up,” I tell him. “So thanks.”
“Well, anytime. It’s not like you haven’t ever shown up for me before.”
“Fair enough.” I laugh. “Tell Bianca I said good luck.”
“Will do. I’ll let you know when the baby arrives.”
“I’m counting on it. Talk to you soon.”
“Talk soon.”
The call ends right as I’m pulling into the drive of my two-story farmhouse. I put the truck into Park and stare out the windshield at the wraparound porch with the swing I hung last spring, the white brick siding, and the large picture window I enjoy standing in front of when the weather isn’t quite good enough to be out on the porch first thing in the morning.
“Home sweet home,” I mutter to myself then grab my duffel and call Bravo out of the truck. He jumps out of the driver’s side then takes off toward the back of the house before racing back toward me. Laughing, I unlock the door and step inside.
I’m greeted with the heady scents of cinnamon and clove, thanks to the oil diffuser currently spitting out steam on my counter. The plants on my shelves all look perfectly healthy, thanks to my mom coming to water for me while I was away. She’s clearly been cleaning, too, since the coffee mug I’d rinsed out and set upside down on the drying rack next to the sink is nowhere to be seen.
“Oh, Mom.”
The porch creaks behind me. “Do I hear my name?”
I turn as Ruth Hunt rushes into the house wearing a white dress with lavender flowers printed all over it and a heavy black jacket. “Only in appreciation,” I reply then drop my bag and wrap my arms around her. We get our height from our father, so my mom’s head barely reaches my chest, but I drop my head and breathe in her familiar floral perfume.
Home. It doesn’t matter that I’m four years away from forty; my mother will always feel like home to me.
“I’ve missed you, kid. Let me take a look at you.” She releases me and steps back, her brow arching as she takes in my unkempt appearance. “You need a trim.”
“I’ve been living in the jungle for three months,” I reply with a laugh. “I didn’t even sleep in a bed until last night.”
She shakes her head. “You still need a trim. Come early for dinner, and I can do it for you.”
I laugh, knowing she would too. “I’m headed into town later and was planning to stop by Floyd’s.” At the mention of our local barber, she nods.
“Good. How was the trip home?”
“Not too bad. No traffic coming out of Dallas, so that’s nice.”
“Glad to hear it. We missed you around here.”
Before I can respond, Bravo bounds into the house, and she drops down to pet him. “There’s my good boy! Keeping my son safe, that’s what you do, isn’t it? You work so hard.” Bravo flops down and exposes his belly so my mom will pet it.
You’d never know that, forty-eight hours ago, he had his powerful jaws locked onto the arm of a woman prepared to take my life.
Now, he’s a puppy. A goofy, fluffy, German Shepherd puppy.
“What time is dinner?” I ask, mouth already watering.
“Seven,” she replies.
“Anything I can bring?”
“Yourself and an appetite.”
“I’ve had an appetite for three months.”
She laughs. “Well, good. We’ll do something about that tonight.” Mom stands. “You doing okay?” Her expression is serious now, and I know it’s her fishing for how this latest mission might have affected me.
Truth be told, they all weigh on me like stones around my ankles. The things I’ve seen, the places I’ve pulled people out of—they haunt me. But I wouldn’t change this mission for anything else. I bring the lost back to their families. And if I must, I’ll cut myself to the bone to do it.
“I’m good, Mom.”
“Honey—”
“I even managed to hand out those Bibles Dad gave me.”
“Really?” Her expression lights up.
“Really. Some of the veterans I worked with and each of the girls I rescued.”
Her eyes fill with tears. “The Word of God will help them.”
“Yes,” I reply. “It will.”
“Good.” She wipes her tears. “Did Silas make it home okay?”
“He did. Bianca is still in labor, but he made it home okay.”
“Home birth. That is one brave woman,” she says, her tone laced with admiration.
“Bianca is as tough as they come,” I reply honestly. The woman walked through hell and back, managing to come out with more faith than some of the people who warm pews every Sunday.
“Very true. She’s a perfect match for our Silas.” Mom beams. “Well, I’m going to head up to the house. I’ll see you at seven?”
“See you at seven.” I step forward and kiss her cheek then give Bravo the command to sit and stay. Otherwise, he’d follow her out happily and not get the bath he so desperately needs.
“I love you, Bradyn, and I’m so glad you’re home.”
“I love you, too, Mom. And me too.”
She smiles, then closes the door behind her. I take a moment, standing in the silence of my living room as the weight of what I dealt with settles over my shoulders. I can still see their faces. Dirty and bruised. The pain in their eyes only eclipsed by the fear as we burst into that room.
My heart is heavy.
My soul worn.
But they’re at home with their families.
As I do every time I return home, I bow my head. “Lord, thank You for bringing me back safely. Thank You, God, for guiding me to those girls and giving me what I needed to bring them back safely. I ask that You watch over them, wrapping the victims in Your light and Your love. In the name of Jesus, I pray, amen.” I take a deep breath then open my eyes and look down at Bravo, who is watching me curiously, his tail wagging.
“All right. It’s bath time, bud. I didn’t want to say it earlier, but you smell horrible.”
Freshly showered and dressed in jeans, a sweatshirt, and the boots I missed almost as much as my bed, I make my way into the small town of Pine Springs. With only a single stoplight—installed last year to most of the town’s disdain—we’re not known for our lavish nightlife. Which, in my opinion, is a gift from God above.
Small towns are a dying breed these days, and I’m grateful mine has stayed relatively untouched. Stoplight not included.
I pull into a spot right in front of the barbershop and put my truck into Park then take a second to just sit in the peaceful silence. Bravo is back at my parent’s house, undoubtedly being spoiled rotten by my mother, so this is the first time in three months that I’ve been completely and utterly alone.
Honestly, I’m not sure I care for it. The silence is deafening.
I climb out and make my way up to Floyd’s shop, a man who has been cutting my hair since my first haircut over thirty years ago. Before I can even reach for the handle, though, I hear my name.
Turning, I face the street as an elderly woman wearing black slacks and a puffy black jacket crosses quickly. Her cheeks are red from exertion, her expression wide-eyed and excited.
“While I live and breathe! It is you!” she cries out as she reaches me, the lines at the corner of her brown eyes crinkling in delight.
“Hi, Mrs. Shannon.” The woman had been best friends with my grandmother from childhood up until my gran passed away two years ago. She’s an honorary grandmother to me and helped my mom tremendously as she grieved the loss of her mother.
“It is so good to see you!” She envelopes me in a floral-scented embrace, squeezing gently.
“You, too.”
“When did you get back?” she asks, pulling away.
“Just a few hours ago,” I reply.
Her brow arches. “Boy, you look too handsome to have just come in on a plane.”
I laugh. “It’s amazing what a hot shower and a nap will do.”
Her smile spreads. “Fair enough. So, how are you?” It’s a question I get whenever I return home from a mission. While the intimate details of what we do are confidential, the town has a decent enough idea. And given that my mom puts us on the prayer list at church whenever we’re out, I can bet on being asked this same question over and over again until I’ve personally seen every person who lives here.
“I did good work, and I’m glad to be home.”
“You did amazing work, my boy. I may not know details, but I know that you are doing what needs to be done.”
I smile softly even though the weight of her words settles onto my shoulders like a boulder. I do the best I can, but there are plenty of things I’ve done that I’m not proud of. Not that I’d ever be able to get her to see it that way. “Thanks. How are you?”
“God woke me up this morning; therefore I have no complaints.” She smiles. “Well, I better get back to the diner. Francis will be wondering where I ran off to when he gets back from the restroom.”
I chuckle, knowing that her husband would assume that she was doing just this—chasing someone down to ask them about their day. It’s just who she is. I offer another hug. “It’s good to see you.”
“You, too, honey. I’ll see you around. Don’t be a stranger.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I reply with a smile. After offering me a wave, she rushes back across the street and toward the diner. I watch for just a moment, doing my best to stifle the darkness of what I’ve seen as it tries to creep back into my mind.
Then I turn to head back toward the barber shop and smack into a soft frame.
“Oh, sorry!” Instinctively reaching out, I settle my hands on top of slender shoulders then find myself losing the ability to breathe as I stare down into the most gorgeous blue eyes I’ve ever seen. They’re impossibly blue, really. Like the sky on a cloudless day.
“I’m sorry,” the woman says, pulling back.
I withdraw my hands from her shoulders, and because I’m not sure what to do with them, I shove them into my pockets. “My fault. Sorry.”
Wearing jeans, boots, and a Carhartt jacket, she’s dressed like a rancher, though I’ve never seen her. Honey-colored hair is braided over her shoulder, and a baseball cap is tucked on her head. It takes me a few seconds to realize that it’s my family’s brand on the front of it. An HF with cattle horns coming off each letter.
“Oh, Hunt Ranch?” I point to the hat.
“Yeah.” Color paints her cheeks. “I am sorry, I didn’t mean to run into you like that?—”
“Bradyn Hunt,” I reply, holding out my hand.
Those impossibly gorgeous blue eyes widen as she reaches out and takes my hand. “The eldest brother returns home, then?” she asks with a hesitant smile.
Why is she affecting me this way? Like I’ve been struck by lightning and can’t remember how to function?
I clear my throat. “It would seem so.”
“I started work at your ranch about a month ago and have heard nothing but stories about how you were off on an adventure, saving the world and all that.”
After withdrawing my hand, I rub it over the back of my neck in an attempt to ease the heat enveloping me as she stares up at me with wide eyes I would happily drown in. “Yeah, well, I wouldn’t go that far.”
“Everyone else would.”
Because I have literally no idea what else to say, I just stare at her—because that’s what a hardened soldier does, right? Stares at a beautiful woman because he has no idea what else to say?
“Well, I need to get to the post office. It was good meeting you, Mr. Hunt.”
“Bradyn, please. And your name is?—”
“Sammy,” she replies. “I’ll see you around, Bradyn.” Without another word, she turns and heads down the street toward the post office, all while I continue staring after her like an awestruck teenager.
Somewhere close by, a bell dings.
“Bradyn?”
“Huh? What?” I finally turn away from the direction Sammy walked in, only to find Floyd standing in the doorway of his shop, grinning like he just caught my hand in the cookie jar.
Which actually happened once at a Hunt family barbeque when I’d been trying to get my hands on dessert before dinner.
“I thought that was you. Are you planning on coming in?”
“Yeah, sorry. I just?—”
“Oh, I saw.” He chuckles. “She’s a looker, for sure. Come in so we can make you at least mildly presentable for the next time your paths cross.”