Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
NATE
I’m five reps into my one-handed push-up routine when my phone rings. Usually, I’d ignore it and finish the set, but no one calls except Mackenzie. And even that’s rare. But something about this call makes the air shift. A sharp pulse of dread creeps in as I grab the phone and note the time. One o’clock.
That can’t be good.
I keep my tone even. “Yeah?”
The voice on the other end isn’t Mackenzie’s. It’s raw and broken.
“Nate, it’s Liam.”
Mackenzie’s words are thick with panic. I’m already reaching for my shirt and keys before I ask, “What about him?”
“He’s hurt. My brother … he took him out.” A strangled sob. “Dirtbike. He crashed.”
I shove my arms into my sleeves and grab my medical kit. “I’m on my way. Are you still at work?”
My mind races. How could this happen? Liam should be at school, not tearing through the woods on a dirtbike with that reckless bastard. If Jordan pulled him out without Mackenzie’s permission, I’m going to lose my shit.
These kids have become special to me. I protect what’s mine .
As I take off, my hands clench the wheel, fury bubbling under my skin. One fucking week—that’s all Jordan had to wait for safety lessons. Instead, he took an eleven-year-old out there untrained and unprotected.
Mackenzie’s breath hitches over the line, cutting through my rage.
“Do you know where they are?” I ask.
“The Brazen Trail. Somewhere in the mountains. I don’t know exactly.”
Shit.
“We’ll figure it out.” Somehow. “Did he call nine-one-one?”
“He tried, but the call dropped. His phone’s dead.”
Christ.
“Nate, I can’t lose my baby.”
“You won’t.” I have no idea if that’s true. But right now, she needs to believe it.
By the time I reach Mackenzie, she’s pacing outside the café, her face pale and tear-streaked. I barely throw the truck in park before I’m out, ushering her into the passenger seat.
“Do you have their last coordinates?” I pull up my GPS.
“A grassy field. Somewhere along the Brazen Trail.”
“Northwest?”
She nods.
I punch in the route. “We head north and then take the road that cuts west.”
Mackenzie’s fingers twist in her lap. “Why is this happening?”
“We’ll find them.” I squeeze her thigh. It’s a quick gesture meant more for reassurance than anything. “Hand me your phone.”
She hands it over, and I hit the emergency button.
“Nine-one-one, please state the nature of your emergency.”
“This is Nate Dixon. We have a minor involved in a dirtbike accident with possible injuries.”
“Age of the victim?”
“Eleven.”
“Are you with the victim? ”
“No, en route. Last known location: grassy field off Brazen Trail. Can you have Medix-Lift on standby?”
“I’ll notify them now.”
I hang up, gripping the wheel as the GPS leads us to a gravel parking lot at the trailhead. Relief floods through me at the sight of Stan’s truck, but it’s immediately swallowed by anger.
Jordan fucking knew better. And if Mackenzie’s parents let this slide, they’ll answer to me, too.
Mackenzie hasn’t spoken since I ended the call. Silent tears streak her face, but it’s her gaze locked on the medical bag that has me concerned. I let out a breath. So she knows.
“I’ll pull up the satellite view and see where the grassy patches are.” While the map loads, we exit the truck. I grab the medical bag before heading to the trail’s start. The map reveals three possible flattened areas. I point to the one closest to us. “My bet is on this one. If they were eager to ride, they wouldn’t go far. Ready?”
She nods. We take off.
I keep my pace controlled, though every instinct screams to run full-out. Every minute could be the difference between life and death, but I can’t risk losing Mackenzie to exhaustion.
The clearing comes into view, and my heart slams against my ribs.
Jordan’s pacing near the tree line, frantic.
“There!” I point, and we break into a sprint.
Jordan’s wild eyes meet ours. “Mackenzie,” he chokes, raking his hands through his hair. “He was riding too close to the tree line. He just … went down.”
We skid to a stop.
Blood.
So much blood.
Mackenzie lets out a sound that will haunt me until the day I die. A raw, heart-wrenching wail that shreds through the air.
The world around me fades. The trees dissolve. The mountain air thickens.
Suddenly, I’m not here anymore .
I’m back on the tarmac, watching Ethan return from a mission. . .
The moment I spotted Ethan and the rest of the crew walking up the tarmac, I expected relief to flood back in, but the gnawing feeling something wasn’t right wouldn’t go away. But he was safe. I could see him walking toward me.
Ethan’s eyes found mine. He broke into a wide smile that said he defied the world. I could tell their mission had been successful by the way they composed themselves. That cocky self-assurance he had about him. He closed the distance, and I couldn’t help but lay into him.
“You, dumb motherfucker. Why the hell would you jinx yourself?”
“Worried about me, were you?”
I shook my head at him. “Dumb motherfucker.”
His laugh hung in the air right before someone yelled, “Insurgents,” and gunfire rang through. Ethan’s eyes grew large as he grabbed hold of me and slammed me to the ground. It took a few moments to realize he laid on me as a shield. I tried shifting him off me, but he shook his head.
“Stay down. You’re worth more alive than dead. No one will miss me.”
He grabbed his gun and rolled off me. Sitting up, he fired. “Stupid fuckers.” Bullets zipped through the air. Yells. Shouts. I reached for my gun but came up empty. Fuck. It was back at my barrack. I tried sitting up, but Ethan shoved me back, ordering, “Stay down.”
And in that moment, my life was forever altered. Royce ran through the haze of dust, firing his weapon. Ethan had him in his scope but pulled back. Being shot by friendly fire wasn’t happening on our watch. Everything happened fast. Royce aimed directly at Ethan. I yelled for Ethan, but it was too late. The gun fired, and Ethan collapsed at my feet. I didn’t waste time. I grabbed Ethan’s gun and turned it on Royce. My heart pounded as Royce, the man I recruited, aimed at me. Recognition danced in those black eyes, and that moment of hesitation was all I needed to deliver the fatal blow. Royce dropped to the ground .
I scurried to my friend.
“Ethan, goddamn it. You better be okay.”
Steel-blue eyes stared up at me, full of regret. “Did you get the fucker?”
“He’s dead,” I reassured my friend as I folded up my shirt and pressed it to his right upper flank—so much blood.
“Take care of my family.”
“Bullshit. You’re going to take care of them yourself.” This was my fault. I had brought the traitorous bastard here. Had fought for him to stay.
“I need help,” I yelled above the chaotic noise. Blood coated the sandy soil. I pressed down harder—a worthless attempt to try to stop the bleeding. But the bleeding wouldn’t stop.
Blood. Blood was everywhere.