Chapter Eight
Daniel
I fucking hate this.
I hate every second of driving her back to the people who let that bastard near her in the first place. Who didn’t protect her. Who, by the sound of that phone call, don’t even believe her. But she asked me to. Said she needs closure, whatever that means.
So even though it’s killing me, I get it.
She wants to face them on her own terms. Stand her ground.
But I swear to God, if that creep so much as breathes in her direction today, I won’t hesitate. I’ll snap his jaw so hard he won’t be able to lie his way out of anything else for the rest of his miserable life.
We’re not even parked yet and the tension is rolling off her like smoke off a fire line. Her shoulders are up near her ears, her hands fidgeting in her lap. The closer we get, the tighter she coils.
The Airbnb is a small cabin-style rental, looks like a vacation brochure someone forgot to wrinkle. And standing outside waiting, like we’re a damn Uber delivery, are two people.
Cindy’s mom is a redhead too, older and more worn but still holding on to some of that effortless beauty.
And I’m guessing the man is her stepfather, Lenny.
Broad shoulders, square jaw, maybe ex-military, maybe just likes to look the part.
His arms are folded, legs braced like he’s ready for a standoff.
I turn the engine off and reach over to take her hand. She flinches a little, like she forgot I was here, then grips my fingers tightly.
“You don’t have to get out yet,” I say softly. “Take your time. We’re not in a rush.”
She nods, letting out a shaky breath. She keeps scanning the front of the house like she’s waiting for someone else to appear.
“I don’t see him anywhere,” I say quietly. “You won’t have to deal with the bastard on my watch.”
She gives me a tight, grateful smile, letting out another nervous breath. “Okay. I’m ready.”
I hop out and circle around the truck to open her door. Her mom starts to walk toward us, her eyes locked on Cindy with barely concealed relief. Lenny follows at a slower pace, hanging back a step, hands tucked in his pockets like he wants to seem casual. I don’t buy it.
As Cindy steps down, her mom reaches for her. “Oh, sweetheart, thank God. I was so worried.”
Her voice is soft, motherly, but something about the too-sweet tone makes my skin prickle. Like she’s trying to reset everything back to normal without actually acknowledging how far off course things went.
“Hi, Mom,” Cindy says with a tight smile.
I move to stand behind her, close enough that she can feel me there. Her spine stays straight, but I can see the nerves in the twitch of her fingers.
“Where’s Lyle?” she asks, eyes darting around.
Her mom waves a hand. “He’s gone. You don’t have to worry about anything. He left early this morning.”
“Back home,” Lenny adds. “We had a long talk with him, Cindy. He told us everything.”
My jaw tightens. I don’t like where this is going.
“He said you misunderstood,” Lenny continues. “He swears he never meant to scare you.”
Cindy’s face goes pale.
Her mother jumps in quickly. “I know you were upset, honey, and I’m not saying you didn’t feel uncomfortable, but maybe it was just…miscommunication. You’ve been under so much stress lately—”
I see red.
I take one step forward, curling my arm protectively around Cindy’s waist. She leans into me without even realizing it.
“No,” I say, my voice low and firm. “There was no fucking misunderstanding.”
Their eyes snap to me.
“He cornered her,” I growl. “Got her alone and made her feel unsafe. That wasn’t miscommunication, that was intent. I don’t give a damn what lies he fed you, because I was the one who rescued her. I saw what he did to her.”
Her mom blinks like I slapped her.
“Now let me make this real clear,” I say, taking another step forward so they both feel the heat rolling off me. “If Lyle ever comes near her again—if he so much as tries to contact her, I will handle it myself. And trust me, you do not want that.”
Lenny stiffens slightly, like he’s not sure whether to argue or nod.
I don’t care which way he leans. I’m not here for them.
“She’s not a little girl who needs to be told she imagined things,” I continue, my voice dropping to a lethal level. “She’s a woman. She knows exactly what happened. And she doesn’t owe that bastard silence just to keep the peace.”
Cindy grips my hand tighter, and I feel the smallest shake in her shoulders. But she’s still standing tall. She hasn’t backed down.
“You said he left,” I say, turning my gaze back on Lenny. “Where exactly is he?”
“Back in Bozeman,” he answers, a little less sure this time. “Left this morning.”
“Good.” I step back, my grip on Cindy firm. “Because if he didn’t, we’d have a real problem.”
Right then, my phone buzzes in my back pocket.
I don’t want to take it. I don’t want to step away, not when Cindy’s standing beside me, her eyes wide, her hand gripping mine tightly.
But I already know what this is. There’s only one reason dispatch would be calling me directly.
I pull the phone out to check the screen and sure enough, it’s the field office emergency line.
I sigh and rub the back of my neck before answering. “Foster.”
“Daniel, we need you up on the north ridge. Spot fire’s breaking containment line near Flat Top. Crew’s light. We need air eyes and brush control, ASAP.”
“Copy that.” I glance at Cindy, hating everything about the timing. “I’m on my way.”
I hang up and turn back to her, pressing my free hand against the small of her back. Her gaze flicks up to mine, and I instantly hate myself at the sight of her little sad pout.
“You have to go,” she says softly.
I nod. “Fire’s flaring up near Flat Top. They need me.”
She swallows and looks back toward the cabin where her mom and Lenny still stand, both of them visibly taken aback, not just by the phone call, but by everything I just said. Their eyes flick between me and Cindy like they’re piecing things together. Trying to decide who I am, what I am.
I don’t care about their confusion or their judgment. All I care about is making sure they understand one thing.
“I meant what I said,” I growl, giving them both a pointed look. “Her safety is not negotiable. I’ll be checking in. And if I find out that bastard’s anywhere within a hundred feet of her again…” I don’t finish the sentence. I just let the silence sit there, heavy and electric.
Her mother shifts uneasily. Lenny clears his throat but doesn’t speak.
Good. Let them squirm.
I turn back to Cindy. Her eyes are soft now, a little shiny. But she nods. “Be careful,” she whispers.
“I always am.” I brush a kiss to her forehead and grip her jaw gently, tilting her face up. “You have my number—call me the second anything feels wrong. Understand?”
She nods again, and I let my hand slide down her back before finally pulling away. Every step I take toward my truck feels like tearing off my own damn skin. But I force myself behind the wheel, start the engine, and drive away.
***
The moment I hit the ridge, the heat hits harder.
The fire’s burning hot and fast, chewing up dry pine and underbrush like it’s got a personal vendetta. My team’s scattered, smoke jumpers diving out of the chopper a few ridges over, and I’m taking the edge of the slope, running support where we’re thin.
The roar of the flames, the whump of collapsing timber, the dry crackle of the wind…it all hits like white noise. Usually, that focus zones me in. Zips everything else into the background.
But not today.
Today, every second I’m out here, she’s all I can think about.
I picture her walking into that cabin, sitting at that table with people who are supposed to love her but clearly don’t understand what love means. I picture her faking a smile while they tiptoe around what happened like it’s something she imagined. Like she’s the problem.
Fuck.
I slam the butt of my Pulaski into a smoldering log, sending a spray of ash into the air.
This isn’t done. I know it. I feel it in my damn bones.
Lyle’s gone for now. But not far enough. Not gone -gone. And I don’t like the way her mother tried to minimize what happened. The way Lenny parroted Lyle’s bullshit excuse without a second thought. No remorse. No real concern.
That’s not a safe place for her.
Not even close.
The fire jumps a line, and I bark into the radio for more foam coverage from the chopper above. I start clearing space with controlled swings, carving out breaks between brush pockets. Sweat pours down my back, but my thoughts keep circling.
She was pale as hell when Lenny said it was a “misunderstanding.” Her whole body tensed up, and her eyes dimmed. I saw it. The shutdown. Like she knew this was going to happen. Like she expected them not to believe her and she still went back.
Because she’s brave.
And I let her go. I shouldn’t have—I should have protected her.
Goddammit.
I grunt as I hack down a stubborn branch, muscles working on autopilot. I’ve been trained to assess a threat and neutralize it, to protect people in the middle of chaos. That’s the whole reason I do this job. But I left her in the middle of the fire. And it’s eating me alive.
When this mission’s done, when we’ve beat this fire back and the team’s safe…I’m not going to waste a second. First stop? Bozeman.
I’m finding Lyle.
And when I do…he’ll understand exactly why it’s a mistake to mess with someone I care about.