Chapter Five
Bryar LeGuard-Steel removed the loaf of strawberry honey bread from the oven and placed it on the sideboard as she waited for the cowboys to gather around the weathered table. Music from the antique radio in the window filled the air, and she hummed along.
As the song's final chord faded, a local weather alert announced an approaching storm in Shades Cove.
The seductive woman’s voice practically purred the warning, “Stay indoors this evening, my friends. Don’t take any chances. Now sit back and enjoy this oldie but goodie.”
Jag slapped his worn Stetson on one of the hooks near the back door and stepped into the kitchen, offering Puma’s wife a smile in greeting.
Over the last six months since Jag moved to Storm Pass, he’d gotten to know Bryar. Puma was a fortunate man. Not that Jag wanted the same things, but he was happy to see that his buddy had found happiness.
Jag, on the other hand, broke out in hives at the mere mention of the M word.
His therapist used the term “avoidant behavior”, brought on by PTSD. Hell, he wouldn’t argue. Due to the intense training and high-stress missions in the SEALs, and tests on his brain had shown damage due to blast exposure, he was what he phrased as “fucked up”. Compared to who he was when he retired, he’d come a long way. If he got six hours of sleep a night, he was doing great, he ate and worked out regularly, and didn’t jump out of his skin at every loud noise. Improvement came in baby steps.
Being at Storm Pass, surrounded by his brothers-in-arms, he felt as though he was growing, becoming human instead of operating on automatic pilot.
“Something smells delicious.” He told her as he passed through, grabbing water from the metal bin overflowing with drinks. His mouth watered as Bryar took a large casserole dish out of the oven and placed it on a metal rack to cool. It was meatloaf, one of his favorites.
“You'd better enjoy this meal. I told you that after today, I can no longer cook. The doctor said I need to take it easy, which means running this kitchen is out of the question.” She lovingly touched her round belly. “Did you hear that, husband?” she said to Puma as he stepped inside the kitchen from the mud room.
“Yes, my love. We don’t want to take any risks with our girl.” Puma Steel, a burly man who was as tough as rocks until it came to his wife, wrapped his arms around her and spread his stained fingers over her baby bump.
“Does this mean you’ve found someone to replace me?” she asked. When he stayed silent, she turned on her bare feet and gazed up at him through her lashes. “Babe?”
“It’s okay. I have an idea.” Puma said, sneaking around her and grabbing a pinch of bread, which he slyly popped into his mouth.
“I saw that. Don’t ruin your dinner,” she said with a teasing smile.
“I wouldn’t dream of it. Meatloaf is my favorite,” Puma replied.
Over the past six months, Jag had eaten better than he had in all his thirty-five years. He was used to sitting in the dark or by a fire, enjoying a mysterious MRE after a day of chasing terrorists. Sometimes, he had to remind himself to slow down when eating so he wouldn’t disrupt his digestive system. He’d been diagnosed with an ulcer and finally, he got it under control.
When Puma introduced the idea of reviving Storm Pass and starting a security company, Jag had been a bit leery of the prospect. Having grown up on a farm, he was well-acquainted with horses and livestock, yet he had spent over fifteen years as a grunt.
He’d been living on a secluded mountain since he came home and he decided maybe it was time to stop hiding. So, he took Puma up on the offer.
Almost dying on a mission in Kuwait could be considered a wake-up call, figuratively speaking. He took a good look at his life, reflecting on how many criminals he’d brought to justice, how many attacks he’d prevented on friendly soil, and concluded that it was time to retire his rifle and boots. Being a soldier was both mentally and physically arduous, and he found himself starting to resent his lifestyle.
Now he wore a Stetson and Wranglers and couldn’t find a complaint.
Although there was a learning curve in working the land, he quickly adapted and now felt at home. He also found a peaceful pleasure in his security work. Recently, he’d started assisting the sheriff in searching for missing persons in the mountains. This wasn’t part of his original plan when he arrived in Shades Cove, but the team responded wherever they were needed. He liked utilizing his tracking skills. Last week, he’d located two lost teens on the mountain when they took a wrong turn and ended up stuck next to a flooded ravine.
Jag was writing a new chapter for himself, and the world was his oyster.
He sat down at the table with some of the crew who had already meandered in. They all looked tired and dusty after a day of inoculating the livestock. Under the vet’s guidance, they had managed to immunize half of the livestock. Jag had learned a lot of valuable skills today.
Ranching wasn’t for the weak. He’d be sore for a few days. His leg gave him fits sometimes. The bullet had fucked up his leg, but thanks to a combination of demanding physical therapy and pain meds he was now able to walk without a limp. He just needed to slow down a bit.
He was also learning to enjoy the view.
And damn, what a view he saw every day here at Storm Pass.
The mountain view and air could only be described as Mother Nature’s medicine. As the evening settled on the ranch, he took his horse, Wrigley, for a sunset ride nearly every evening.
“I could eat a horse,” Hayes, “Bear” Banner dropped down into one of the chairs. The wood creaked under his weight. He was a solid two-hundred-fifty pounds of ripped muscle and badass. He could kill a man with his bare hands. Nearly did too, a few times in Iraq. Jag felt sorry for the man who ever meant any harm to Bear, or someone he cared for.
“I’ve been smelling that meatloaf for hours.” Reno “Arrow” Arrowood clapped Jag on the shoulder and then took a seat. Since coming to Storm Pass, he’d gotten a neck tattoo and allowed his beard to grow long enough to graze his chest. This change in appearance was termed "mutiny" among soldiers, which was the word inked on his skin. He appeared entirely different from the rigid, disciplined military captain Jag recalled from five years ago.
Atlas Crew and Kyle “Kye” Walker came strolling in, making their way to the table. Body “Crow” Crowley and Sin “Bones” Walker weren’t too far behind. They were laughing about how the old grey goose at the ranch hated Bones.
“The sum’bitch should have his goose cooked for dinner, literally,” Bones muttered.
“What’s that about my Molly?” Bryar said as she swept into the room, targeting Bones with her narrowed gaze. Her smile announced that she found it amusing, too, that Molly enjoyed, and seemed to take some odd enjoyment in chasing Bones.
Bones scratched his whiskered jaw and shrugged. “I was just saying that I bet she’d make a fine-cooked goose because she’s so sweet.”
“If she comes up missing, I’ll know where to look,” Bryar pointed a fork at him.
Bones stayed quiet.
Jag looked down the table of brawny men and bit back laughter. Not one of them weighed less than two hundred pounds, and each had not one ounce of fat on their muscular bodies. Each of them had a story to tell, some worse than others. And every single one of them would fight tooth and nail for their country and their family.
It was certainly great to be back with the crew. Instead of carrying packs and guns, they now rode horses and carried bales of hay and straw. Although he sometimes complained, Jag enjoyed the hard work. He toiled under the sun every single day but never looked down on back-breaking labor. His father instilled in him the belief that a good man was defined by his willingness to work. Samuel Jagerson had been one of the most remarkable individuals Jag had ever encountered, and on the day his pa died, the world lost a good man.
“Who can get any sleep when Atlas wants to stay up all night reading self-help books?” Arrow shook his head in irritation. “It’s a waste of time. You’re always going to be a dick, brother. No matter what those books tell you to do.”
“I’m surprised you know what a dick looks like considering you haven’t seen one, wee man.” Atlas chuckled.
As the two men continued to outdo each other with their comebacks, Jag thanked a higher power that they’d all survived sitting down to chow together for so many years. They annoyed each other often, even nearly coming to blows at times, but Jag wouldn’t say one bad word about any of them. He bet they felt the same about him.
Once they were all seated and waiting to dig in, Bear cleared his throat, gaining the attention of everyone at the table. “Listen up, girls. Someone forgot to flush the toilet this morning. The last thing I wanted to see before coffee was one of your deuces.”
“Maybe you should have grabbed a sample and sent it off for DNA.” Kye laughed.
“Funny.” Bear wasn’t the least bit amused. “If it isn’t already jam-packed inside the bunkhouse, making us feel, and smell like sardines, you good-for-nothing dipshits,” his eyes widened as he looked over at Bryar who was placing the pan of meatloaf in the center of the table. “Sorry, ma’am.”
“I’ve heard worse from my husband, Bear, but thank you,” she said, kissing Puma on the cheek.
“Anyway, as I was saying, none of you know how to flush a toilet or save hot water for others. I’m putting a new spin on the term blue balls—” he cleared his throat. “Cold showers, that is.”
“Listen, men.” Puma thumped the table lightly. “I know the bunkhouse isn’t your dream home, so Bryar and I have come up with a solution. Now that my father-in-law is back working at Crazy Shades, he’s decided to move into the apartment above the bar, which is more convenient for him. Her brother and his wife have moved closer to her family, so that means the Victorian house is empty.” He looked up at his wife, who was standing by his side.
“Puma and I decided to move there.” Bryar laid her hand on Puma’s shoulder. “It’ll work best for the baby, and when I eventually go back to teaching, I’ll be close to the school.”
“You won’t be living here on the ranch?” Jag asked.
“Just as my wife said, it works for the baby to be in town. There’s a lot more room for us to grow there.” Puma looked at his wife with love. When he settled his attention back on the crew, his gaze hardened slightly. “You men have proven you can handle anything that arises here, on the ranch, and in the security business. I’m planning to take some time to spend with Bryar and the baby when she gets here. That doesn’t mean I won’t be working, but as the due date gets closer, I need to be available.”
Most of the men probably didn’t notice the concern in Puma’s eyes, but Jag could see it. He didn’t know the details, but Puma had mentioned that he and Bryar lost a son years ago, and recently, they held a small ceremony to release his ashes. Jag understood that it was best not to ask too many questions. Sometimes, the truth lay in silence.
“Dig in, boys. It won’t serve itself,” Bryar said. “And I’m going upstairs to rest.”
More concern crossed Puma’s hardened features. “Are you okay?”
“I’m wonderful,” she assured her husband. “But I’ve been on my feet almost all day. Enjoy your dinner.”
“Want me to make you a plate?” Puma started to stand.
“No, love. I ate a few bites here and there. You stay and eat. Come and wake me up when everyone’s done.” After a quick kiss on Puma’s cheek, she left the room.
The crew were all hands and spoons as they filled up their plates.
Jag pinched off a hefty amount of bread to dip into the gravy. “Does the move mean what I think it does?”
“The house will be available for the crew,” Puma said. “Bryar and I will be moving into town over the next few days. I’m going to start renovations at the bunkhouse, and we’ll move forward with the plans to use it for soldiers who need some rest and relaxation. We’re starting to make a profit on beef, which means we’re ahead of the game quicker than I thought we would be. Thanks to everyone’s hard work and skills. We’ve brought all our knowledge together to make this a reputable ranch again.” Puma turned to Jag. “I’ll need you to be my go-to person while I’m focusing on my family. I've set up the cottage for you to stay in, because a foreman needs his privacy.”
Jag soaked up the news. “Are you sure?” As much as he wanted his place, he didn’t like the idea of having more than anyone else.
“The men and I have talked about this,” Puma explained. “You’ve put in a lot of work around here, with the ranch and getting the business off the ground. The cottage isn’t five-star accommodations, but I think you’ll like it there.” He slapped Jag on the back. “And the rest of you will be moved into the farmhouse.”
“Good thing before I strangled a man,” Bear said, partly teasing.
“Now, for the next order of business.” Puma pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and tore it into strips.
The men watched, pausing from shoveling food into their mouths.
“Seeing that we’re faced with a dilemma and need a cook ASAP, I’m going to ask if any of you want to volunteer for the responsibility until we can get someone else in here.” He looked at each of them. None of them spoke up. “Didn’t think so. So we’re going to do it the easiest way possible.”
Jag didn’t like where this was headed.
Puma pushed the pile of scrap paper toward Arrow. “I want each of you to put your name on a slip of paper.” He grabbed an empty bowl. “Fold them and put them in there.”
Each man finished the task and Puma took the bowl. “We’re going to do this simple . I’m going to draw a name, and whoever the lucky man is, he gets the responsibility of being a temporary cook. I don’t want to hear one word about it. Understood?”
“This ain’t a gripe, but I know for a fact that Kye can’t boil water, let alone prepare an edible meal,” Bones groused.
“Then one of you with a grain of cooking skills better speak up, or we’ll leave it to fate,” Puma warned as he haphazardly tossed the scraps of paper.
Still, no one volunteered.
“Then so be it.” Puma grabbed a piece of paper and unfolded it. His gaze slanted to Jag. “Looks like you’re the winner.”
Jag let out a silent curse. He'd learned long ago that sometimes a man ended up with the short end of the stick, so to speak, but at least he'd be licking his wounds in the privacy of his cottage. Soldiers were infamous for making do with what they had. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d cooked on the hot engine of a Humvee or sat down to eat with families in villages because they’d been kind enough to share a meal.
“Now that we have that settled,” Puma finished his meal. “Tomorrow, we get to the fences. So you fellows get some rest tonight.”
After the men finished, they each stood and languorously made their way outside. Jag stayed behind, guessing he had kitchen duty.
He’d just loaded the dishwasher when Bryar came into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Looks like I came just in time. However, it wasn’t my plan for you to clean the kitchen. Technically, your new chore doesn’t start until tomorrow.”
“So Puma told you?”
“That you’ll be taking over cooking duties? Yes, he did.” She offered him a smile of apology. “I’m sure you have better things to do, so why don’t you go ahead and enjoy your evening? I’ll take over.”
“I can knock the rest of the dishes out by hand in no time. I was going to make myself a cup of coffee. Would you like one?” Jag noticed that Bryar looked tired.
“If you can make that coffee a decaf tea, I’d love one.”
“Then have a seat. I need to get used to the layout in here anyway.” He laughed, but it was far from being funny, but he’d deal with whatever came his way.
He quickly did the remaining pots and searched for tea bags and coffee, while Bryar seemed interested in a book. “What are you reading?”
“It’s a book on how to take care of a newborn.” She looked overwhelmed as she closed the paperback and set it aside.
He finished making her tea and his coffee, then placed the cups on the table. “I've never made tea before, so I've no idea if it needs sugar.”
“Just a little honey will do,” she said, drizzling some from the container on the table and stirring. “Thank you, Jag.”
“It was easy. I just poured boiling water in.”
“I’m not talking about the tea. I’m referring to your friendship with Puma. He’s glad you’re here and enjoys having everyone around, especially you. He mentioned how close you two had grown on your missions. Even if you didn’t realize it, you helped him get through some tough times.”
“Ma’am, he helped me through tough days as well.”
She nodded, staring down into her tea. “If you don’t already know, my husband is a stubborn man. He doesn’t like to talk about his feelings.”
“It’s par for the course, sometimes.”
“Although we’ve been married for a long time, I’m still learning about this new Puma. Do you want to be married one day?”
Jag almost choked on his coffee. “I don’t believe marriage is in the cards for me.”
“You don’t believe or you know it isn’t?” She looked at him through the unfurling steam of her cup.
“The same.”
“Is that coming from a place of heartbreak?”
“From a place of reality. Not everyone’s as lucky as you and Puma.”
She cradled her tea in her hands. “Trust me, there was nothing lucky about Puma and me. After he and I lost our child, we drifted apart. It took ten years for us to find each other again. And that first meeting after so long wasn’t all rainbows and butterflies. Yet, love…is magical. It can heal the broken and mend the wounded.” She pushed her chair back and stood. “Thanks for the tea. I’m going in search of my husband. Moving is exhausting, and I need his input on some things.”
Jag finished his coffee, then went to pack his bag at the bunkhouse. He felt a sense of guilt that he didn’t have to stay there with the crew, but the feeling only lasted a few minutes. Once he walked into the cottage and heard nothing but silence, a smile crossed his face. He hurled his bag onto the floor and collapsed onto the mattress, stretching out on the full-size bed. After months of sleeping on a twin, it felt fantastic not to have his feet dangling off the edge.
He nearly dozed off when his phone vibrated. He pulled it from his pocket and read a text from his longtime friend, Mateo Sams.
The sight of his friend's name caused a heaviness in Jag’s chest. He’d kept a secret from Mateo. One that felt like betrayal.
At Mateo’s wedding, Jag let things spiral out of control with Mercy. From the time he first met her, he’d been infatuated, but he’d kept his feelings under wraps, hiding behind a wall of indifference. So when the morning sunlight came into the room, so did the shame of having slept with his best friend’s sister. He'd broken the silent vow between the men never to cross those boundaries.
Like any shamed man, before Mercy woke, Jag snuck away so he wouldn’t have to face her. He felt no pride in having slept with her and then sneaking out, but he understood that if he’d stayed, he wouldn’t have been able to resist temptation. Things would have been messy—messier. Mateo would have never forgiven Jag, their lifelong friendship would have been ruined, all because Jag couldn’t keep his dick in his pants.
Big mistake.
He’d wanted to confess to Mateo about that one night of weakness, but then he would’ve also admitted that he’d enjoyed himself and still wanted her. At every holiday and gathering when Jag visited home, he saw Mercy and found that the attraction still existed. Yet, she’d made it clear that she hated him…with red-burning passion.
She’d regretted that one night, too.
He read the message from Mateo…
Calling in a big favor. I need your help. Please meet me, and I’ll explain everything.
The second message contained an address an hour from Shades Cove.
This surprised Jag. The last he knew, Mateo was involved in risky undercover operations. He wouldn’t ask for help unless he was in a critical situation.
Regardless of the circumstances, they always supported one another. The team shared matching tattoos that read, “Brothers until death.” They had fought through numerous battles together and would continue to face many more if needed.
Pushing himself off the bed, he stretched the kinks out of his back. Any plans for enjoying his first night in the cottage without being surrounded by the crew flew out the window.
But duty to his friend took priority.
Once everyone was settled in bed, the ranch transformed completely. A unique tranquility enveloped the land, and even the livestock seemed more at ease. Jag felt a twinge of guilt for interrupting the stillness by starting his truck and driving down the narrow gravel lane to merge onto the country road.
By the time he arrived at his destination, his curiosity was nearly overwhelming. The lot of the abandoned warehouse was vacant when Jag parked and turned off the engine.
Twenty minutes later, headlights turned into the parking lot. The truck parked, and Mateo climbed out. The tall, muscular man’s figure looked warrior-like in Jag’s low beams. A second silhouette remained in the passenger seat.
Jag jumped out of the driver’s seat and met Mateo between the trucks. They gave each other a firm handshake and a quick hug.
“It’s been too long, buddy,” Mateo said. In the poor lighting, he looked drained and stressed. “Look who traded in his uniform for Wranglers and a Stetson. It suits you.”
“That it does,” Jag said, looking toward the occupied truck. He guessed that in good time, he’d find out who Mateo had brought with him.
“I can’t say thank you enough for coming.”
“It seemed important.” Jag leaned against the front of his truck and hooked his thumbs into his front pockets. The tense vibe warned him there could be deeper trouble than he first suspected.
“Important enough that I needed to keep things on the low down. You’re the only one I know I can trust.” He glanced back at the truck’s window and shifted his boots. “This requires the utmost care and discretion.”
“Fill me in,” Jag said.
“There are some details I’d rather keep to myself, but does the name Jules Cross ring a bell?”
“Big business guy up in Denver?”
“What I’m going to tell you has to be kept between us.” Mateo scrubbed his whiskered jaw.
“Noted.”
Jag listened while Mateo described what he’d been doing—chasing the evidence to put Cross away for his crimes. Jag nearly chipped a tooth when Mateo explained what happened to Mercy earlier that evening.
“We have a lot of high-powered people involved,” Mateo said. “So you see how Mercy’s life is in danger.”
“Is she okay?” Jag flicked his gaze toward the truck's window.
“Feisty as ever.” Mateo chuckled. “Took my best argument to get her to agree, but she’s smart. She knew this was the best option to keep her safe and out of sight.”
Jag couldn’t see a damn thing in the truck. Mercy was here. Feet away. Why did he feel a brick in the center of his chest? His mind wandered to that one night they’d shared. He wanted to regret it, but he’d only be lying to himself. She’d been a giving lover, and he’d found himself wanting more. A man like Jag, burdened by his demons, didn’t have the right to ask for more from someone who deserved better than he could offer. Relationships were a foreign word to him. And a woman like Mercy deserved that house surrounded by a picket fence and an Enclave in the two-car garage.
“How did you manage to get her here?” Jag asked. He knew how hard-headed she could be.
“Telling her the truth, at least as much as I could without jeopardizing my case.”
“How’s Adriana?”
“I can’t answer that. She’s in Paris, last I heard?”
“Have I missed something?”
“Missed it or I’ve just done a damn good job hiding that she and I are separated.” Mateo’s mouth thinned.
“Sorry, man. I had no idea.” Jag felt like an ass for mentioning her.
“Please, just do me a favor and keep Mercy safe. I can’t predict how far that bastard Cross will go, but I know I’ll be able to concentrate if I know she’s with you. It’s my fault she’s caught up in this mess. I shouldn’t have involved her in this case.”
“I can promise you she’ll be safe with me. I’ll protect her with my life if it comes to that.”
Mateo knocked on the hood of the truck.
The passenger door opened, and Jag waited in anticipation.
Mercy approached the front of the truck and laid her hand on her tilted hip. “Did my brother here tell you the good news?”
Jag stared for a solid ten seconds. A funny pressure filled his chest. Mercy was petite and cute, but also smart and sassy. Her hair was longer than the last time he saw her, but still jet black. “It looks like you and I are going to be joined at the hip for some time.”