Sworn to Protect

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

NATE

Great. My therapist was right. I am officially out of my damn mind.

Hauling my ass across the country to help a woman who doesn’t know me from Adam—yeah, that checks out. But that’s not the worst part. Nope. That’s reserved for when I arrive. Once she finds out who I am, she’ll want nothing to do with me. Smart woman.

The midday California sun slices through the massive F250’s windshield, baking me alive and worsening this unpleasant trip.

I flip down the visor, squinting at the GPS. Two more hours to Naperville. Just enough time along this desolate highway to stew over the fact that I’m on a fool’s errand, all in the name of redemption. A lukewarm shower and a decent bed have my name written all over them. It’s been three long days, preceded by three longer months.

I adjust the air conditioner vents for the umpteenth time, but semi-cool air greets me. Great. No wonder this heat is cooking me. Naperville better have a good mechanic shop. I don’t want to be stuck in that town longer than necessary.

My stomach rolls.

We all know it won’t be my truck’s faulty air-conditioning confining me to a town I know nothing about. Not in the least. These chains aren’t the tangible kind, but they’re every bit as constricting—emotional bondage at its finest.

Unable to withstand the heat, I unbuckle the seat belt and tug my shirt over my head, questioning why I’m even here again.

Deep down, I know.

The reason—fulfilling last wishes while wiping my slate clean—echoes like a haunted curse in my head.

But, no matter how hard I scrub my hands, the past clings to me like the sweat on my skin. The etching of my sins forever tarnishing my soul. My mistakes. My poor judgment.

I wipe the damp shirt across my brow and don’t replace the seat belt. Why bother? No one cares either way. I could crash through the windshield, and not one family member would mourn. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the story of my life summarized by a few depressing thoughts. I’m destined to be alone, and that’s how I prefer it.

I continue driving, begrudging myself of the beautiful mountainous backdrop and stewing over another mistake. The somber mood hangs with me until the GPS registers one hour remaining. I blow out a breath and stretch my neck. The lengthy road trip weighs on me.

“Whoa, what do we have here?” I cancel the cruise control at the sight of a vehicle parked along the highway and flick my gaze to the rearview mirror. With nothing behind me except the open road, I pump the brakes and pull over to the roadside, fully appreciating the woman bent over, inspecting her tire. Her ass sticking straight up is a thing of beauty. I let out a curse and chastise myself. The last thing I should do is ogle a female in distress. Jesus, what is wrong with me? I feel like a teenage boy discovering his perverted uncle’s stash of Hustler magazines for the first time. I usually have more restraint than this. I blame this long-ass haul coupled with too many offers I’ve turned down lately.

AKA, it’s been too long.

As the truck comes to a halt, the woman in question lifts and spins too fast. That fine ass of hers lands on the ground. Her oomph carries through the cab, and I climb out of the truck quicker than a recruit trying to impress a sergeant during the first rounds of physical fitness testing.

“Sorry, ma’am. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

The lady jerks her head up and shakes it back and forth as her hands make the stop motion. I freeze in my tracks. My intent isn’t to scare her, but she clearly needs help.

“I don’t need help,” she says as if reading my mind. “I’ve called the towing company. They should be here any second.”

My gaze flicks to the highway, noting the vast open space—nothing but miles of asphalt in sight. The low hum of her car’s engine competes with my truck’s motor. Yeah, that towing company won’t be here anytime soon. I take another step, but all forward progression stops when I shift my focus back on her. Hell, I think I stop breathing.

Long auburn curls fall just above the swell of her breasts as a pair of bright green eyes I’d recognize anywhere stare back at me. They were the same ones I’d seen whenever I entered my best friend’s barrack.

It’s her.

Mackenzie Gillman.

The woman I’ve sworn to protect.

I swallow past the sudden lump in my throat and peek at the two kids in the car. The older one stares out the back window, tiny hands gripped to the headrest, while the youngest strains to see around his car seat. Mackenzie scurries to her feet and brushes the back of her very short, very sexy , denim shorts. I take another step forward, but she skitters backward, clearly afraid.

“Take one more step, and I’ll shoot.”

My eyebrows shoot up as I stop my forward movement. Those tight little shorts aren’t packing anything, unlike me, but my Glock rests in the passenger seat of my pickup. Besides, I already checked out her backside to know she isn’t wielding a holster. My eyes trace along those long legs down to her feet. The only strap wrapped around her ankle is from her sandals. “Unless you’re packing in your bra, I highly doubt it. I assure you, I’m only here to help.”

She tosses her shoulders back in defiance and straightens her spine. “I assure you I can shoot you point-blank.”

“I do not doubt your skills, ma’am. I just stopped to see if I could help you out.”

She eyes my shirtless chest, lingering on my abs—a look of appreciation flashes in those widening eyes. I squash the lightness in my chest her silent approval gives. She is the last person I should lust over. Vice versa.

“I’m fine. As I said, I’ve got it covered.” Her voice comes out low and gravelly. She clears her throat as if agitated with herself.

I fight back a smile, but she’s half crocked if she thinks I’m abandoning her an hour away from civilization. I wouldn’t put anyone in that situation, let alone the family I’m supposed to protect.

“There’s no way in hell I’m leaving you alone on the freeway with two kids in your car. I can go back to my truck and wait if that makes you more comfortable. Or I can be of some use and look at your tire.”

Indecision wars in her eyes. She glances back at the two boys, and the wince that falls from her lips tightens my chest.

“My name’s Nate Dixon, by the way.” Maybe I should’ve led with introductions first?

“Mackenzie Gillman.”

“Well, Mackenzie, can I look at your tire now?”

“Fine, but can you at least put on a shirt? Who drives around topless?”

I chuckle and turn away. “Someone hot, that’s who.”

I swear I hear a low mm-hmm as I retrace my steps to the truck and grab my shirt. Fully clothed, I walk over to her and bend down to inspect the tire. I grind my teeth to stop cursing when I spot the crater in the sidewall. It doesn’t take an Einstein to figure out the reason for the blowout. The tire tread is entirely bald. Glancing at the front wheel fuels my anger when I find it in the same condition. Why hadn’t you replaced these tires, Ethan? I know we deployed for a long time, but these tires needed replacing long before now.

“The tire blew, and the others don’t have much life to them. When was the last time you had these changed?” I keep my tone even, but damn it, Ethan. You should’ve taken care of this.

“My husband was supposed to get new ones last year. I’ve been busy and forgot.”

My heart squeezes. Her husband . A little over a year ago, Ethan was between deployments. He had ample enough time then to take the car in. “He should’ve made it a top priority.”

“He should’ve done a lot of things,” she mumbles.

I let her comment roll off my back and concentrate on the heap of rubber. “You can call off the tow truck. I can change this for you. I just need your spare tire.”

“Oh, this is what I have.” Mackenzie darts to the trunk and returns, holding a spray can of Fix-a-flat.

I just stare at it. “This is all the car came with?”

Her lips press together as she nods.

“What the hell am I supposed to do with that?”

She gives the cutest shrug, and her shirt slips off her shoulder, exposing her pale, smooth skin peppered with freckles. Fuck me. I force myself to focus on the useless can in her hand. The last thing I should think of is how cute her shoulders are.

“At the very least, you surely have a donut tire.”

“Nope, just this.” She gives me a matter-of-fact look.

I glance at the crater. “That isn’t going to fix shit.”

“Welcome to modern-day corporate greed.”

I shake my head and stalk over to the trunk. Surely, she missed the hidden compartment. All cars come with some type of spare tire. Don’t they? When my search comes up empty, she gives another shrug and tosses the can back into the trunk.

“I tried telling you.”

“I can’t believe this. When did manufacturers stop putting spare tires in cars?”

“Not sure. ”

“Shouldn’t that towing company be here by now?”

She averts her gaze. The relentless afternoon sun cascades around us like a blanket of fire, but the heat pales in comparison to the guilt flaming her cheeks. “I, uh, don’t have cell service.”

“You said you called them.”

“I lied.”

My lips twitch. One thing Ethan forgot to tell me was how spunky Mackenzie could be. However, he covered the stubborn part well. “Let me see if I have service.” I go back to the truck and pull out my phone. The three bars and illuminated LTE have me raising my eyes toward the heavens, thankful for something working out. “I have cell service.”

“Thank God. I’m not sure what we would’ve done otherwise.”

I would’ve had them pile into my truck while we drove to town is what would’ve happened, but I have enough sense not to say that out loud. Instead, I quickly search for towing companies and dial the one with the highest ratings—Tatman’s Towing.

I pass her the phone, and after verifying a truck heading in our direction and informing them where to tow her vehicle, she shoots those expressive eyes full of vigor and grit my way. “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. I’m sure you were heading somewhere.”

I hold her gaze for a moment, lost in their sincerity. Her husband and I had been friends since he joined our unit three years ago. Ethan joked how he didn’t have too many. He said not many people could handle his awesomeness. I hated to break it to him, but it was more like arrogance. But I got where he came from. We bonded. Our friendship was born out of solidarity from belonging to the loners’ club. He opened up about his marriage. But the woman standing before me is nothing like the wife he’d described.

“I’m not going anywhere until you’re safe. We should order a Lyft to take you and the boys to the repair shop.”

The corners of her mouth lift to a slight grin. “Appreciate it.”

“Just doing my job.”

Her eyebrows furrow. “Where are you heading to?”

I feel my face harden. It’s not as if the location is a secret, but her needing roadside assistance has thrown me off my game. After a beat, I reply, “Naperville.”

“You’re not originally from there, are you? I don’t recognize the name.”

“No.” My response is clipped. When her mouth opens to speak, I cut her off. We don’t need to play the twenty-one-question game. “Do your kids need any water?”

“Oh, I better check.” She shakes her head as she beelines to them. Next, she opens her driver’s side door, and before climbing inside, she says, “We’re good.”

She doesn’t emerge until the towing company arrives. Out of respect, or maybe for my own good, I stand beside my truck, still in shock over finding her so quickly, until the tow truck pulls away, followed by the Lyft that arrived to transport Mackenzie and the boys. But I have a funny feeling that things just went from manageable to complex.