Chapter Twenty – Out Of Nowhere
Chapter Twenty
Parker
OUT OF NOWHERE
Performed by Canaan Cox
FOUR YEARS AGO
HIM: Will is officially in love with his new baby boy and in hate with Althea. She’s a money-grabbing cheater. This is the exact reason I’ll never be in a serious relationship.
HER: Not everyone’s relationships turn sour. Not every woman is after something. Your parents and my dad and Sadie are perfect examples of forever after working out.
HIM: Rare species, soon to be extinct.
HER: Only if humanity lets it.
HIM: I’ll never understand how you can be so positive about relationships when your family is the perfect example of how fucked up they can be.
Minutes passed.
HIM: I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. I’m frustrated for Will. Ignore me.
PRESENT DAY
I watched as Fallon rallied the guests and got them back on their horses with an ease that came not only from years of experience but also from that inner confidence she’d always exuded.
Her words about love and relationships had hit me harder than I’d expected, especially coming from a woman who’d spent her childhood feeling loved but not wanted.
That strange dichotomy had left permanent marks on her soul.
She wasn’t wrong about relationships taking courage or the fact I wasn’t willing to risk my heart. But it wasn’t just mine I was protecting. I wouldn’t risk her heart—any woman’s, I corrected—when I could see no positive end to dragging someone into this lifestyle with me.
And yet, plenty of my fellow teammates were married.
Had kids. Had lives they came home to that helped them forget what they’d seen and done while on assignment, unlike the stale silence that always greeted me when I walked in the door after a mission.
But a good chunk of SEAL marriages ended in divorce.
Then again, didn’t all marriages? Divorce rates were sky-high across the board, no matter your profession.
I wasn’t sure how I felt about all those little flashes of what if that had been taunting me since I’d arrived at the ranch—or the fact it was Fallon I saw at my side in those momentary lapses of judgment.
As the group turned back toward the castle, I brought up the rear again. Fallon stopped less often on the return, letting the guests carry the weight of the conversation among themselves or shouting out questions to her that she answered with knowledge and patience.
The view was beautiful, but Fallon seemed to shine above it all.
She was stunning—casual and at ease, with her aged cowboy hat tipped back to show sparkling, amber eyes.
Her muscular arms were on display in a short-sleeve button-down shirt the color of mint ice cream.
It was tucked into saddle-worn jeans that showed off delightful curves.
Her gloved hands were so light on the reins it was like they didn’t even need to be there.
She belonged on that horse, here in this place, with mountains and streams shimmering around her. The way she and Daisy moved, as if they were one, made it easy to imagine Fallon as a centaur, carrying all the wisdom those mythical creatures were often portrayed as having.
But thoughts of her as a centaur only brought images of her bare from the waist up.
Hell, bare completely. Riding a horse naked would hardly be comfortable for anyone, but the image of her just like that, with her hair flowing behind her as she and Daisy raced across flowered fields…
damn if it wasn’t the shit of fantasies.
A loud crack broke the air. A few guests let out yelps. The horses snorted and stomped nervously with their reins jingling. I had to pull my head out of dreamlike images of a naked Fallon before it registered the sound as a fucking gunshot.
Hunters. Did they have hunting excursions on the ranch these days?
When a second blast sent dirt flying at the horses’ feet, some of the guests screamed, and a sudden and overwhelming fear flooded my veins.
Fallon!
Someone was taking shots at her—at all of us—and we were out in the open. Completely exposed.
At the front of the pack, Fallon and Daisy turned slightly as another blast sprayed dirt up her horse’s fetlock.
My chest filled with panic before I locked it down and let my training take over.
“Head for the trees!” I commanded.
Chuck shook himself out of the shell shock first, hollering to the guests to follow him as he kicked his horse into a gallop toward the tree line. Some guests followed, dropping low in their saddles.
Another shot kicked up grass between Daisy and another horse.
The woman on its back jerked her reins furiously.
Fueled by its own fear, and its rider’s, the horse took off.
The unprepared woman slipped sideways in the saddle, dangling half on and half off.
The off-kilter weight only panicked the horse more.
Fallon didn’t even hesitate. She simply spurred Daisy after them.
Every instinct in my body screamed to follow her, to get Fallon to fucking safety.
But the ugly truth was that she’d never be safe if I didn’t stop the asshole who was doing this.
Fury had me urging Dandy in the direction of the shots. The far ridgeline was lined with plenty of trees and boulders, providing cover for the shooter. It was at least three hundred yards away, which meant it had to be someone who knew their way around rifles.
Another blast brought more screams and shouts from behind me, and my focus lasered in on the objective—to stop the gunman. I pushed Dandy forward at a pace I wasn’t necessarily comfortable with when I rarely rode these days, but I had to get to the shooter before he killed someone.
Fallon.
Fuck.
What would I do if I lost her?
I shouldn’t have left her.
But I didn’t turn around. I focused on the job. On finding the shooter. And when I did, I’d beat him to a pulp for scaring her. For bringing the blue shadows to her eyes and dimming her light.
As I reached the base of the hill, where the trees took over and the ground grew craggy, another shot reverberated through the air—this one directed at me. It sent birds flying from the nearby branches, wings beating furiously.
I slipped off Dandy and sprinted up the slope toward the last blast.
A rustling had me jerking to a stop. I attempted to control my breathing while listening for movement I couldn’t see. The hillside had gone eerily quiet. Nothing. Not even a bee buzzed.
Then, pebbles bounced down the hillside above me.
I ran without once slowing, keeping out of sight whenever possible.
I caught a glimpse of dark hair before it disappeared over the crest of the hill and increased my pace.
A motor kickstarted. Multi-cylinder.
Damnit. He was getting away.
My thighs protested as I thrust myself up the slope at an even more brutal pace. I dragged myself over a final boulder just in time to see an endurance bike kicking up gravel and dirt as it disappeared down the fire road.
“Fuck!” I shouted into the silence left behind.
I ripped my phone from my back pocket, calling the security office.
I cut Lance off as he answered. “Get a team to the fire road on the northwest side of the estate. A shooter is escaping on a red off-road motorcycle. No helmet. Brown hair. Brown jacket. No license plate. Heading toward the lake rather than Rivers.”
“Shooter?” Lance hissed.
“Go, Lance. Fucking go.”
The line went dead. I laced my fingers behind my head, steadied my breathing, and then did a slow spin, taking in the area.
I picked my way down the hill in the direction the shooter had come from, watching for footprints so I wouldn’t smudge them, all while looking for any other clues that would identify who this had been.
I stopped at a large clump of rocks jutting out at the point of the hillside.
If I were aiming into the valley, this was where I’d set up.
It had the perfect view of the trail as it emerged from the trees.
Except, he couldn’t have known Fallon would be leading the excursion ahead of time. Kevin had told me she’d filled in at the last minute. So, what had been his game plan?
I scanned the ground. The shooter had left scuff marks where he’d lain between the boulders. Indents from the butt and the pistol grip setting in the dirt. Some boot prints. A handful of expended shell casings.
Not a professional, then. A professional would have taken the casings with them and swept the ground of any trace.
I raised my gaze to the field, noting how the guests had gathered in a circle with their horses, and my stomach dropped.
Someone was on the ground in the middle of the huddle.
Between their feet, I caught a flash of mint green sprawled amongst the flowers.
For a second, the entire world froze—and my heart along with it.
Pain spiraled through every vein.
It wasn’t her.
Goddamnit.
It could not be her!
I leaped over the side of the boulder, my military boots sliding along the pine needles and loose rocks. Branches slapped me in my face as I hurtled down the hillside, gaining speed until I almost couldn’t control the pace. The distance seemed impossible .
Memories of Fallon flashed through my mind on repeat. Smiles. Tears. Sass. Sultry looks.
Pain tore through me at everything I’d fucking denied us.
For what?
“Fallon!” I screamed just as I burst through the trees, and some of the guests jerked around, fear spreading across their faces until they saw it was me.
I hauled ass over the field and shoved my way through the group, heart torn between racing and stopping, a stuttering that made it hard to breathe.
Chuck was on the ground next to Fallon, holding her hand. Her eyes were shut, and her face was deathly pale.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I gritted my teeth, trying to pull myself together in order to do the one thing Fallon would count on me to do—get her guests to safety.
“Everyone on your horses. Get back to the hotel,” I ordered.
The woman Fallon had chased down was crying uncontrollably as one of the other guests patted her shoulder.