Rescuing Montana_Brotherhood Protectors World Page 2

  “I’m Hank Patterson.” He extends his hand, and I shake it.

  “It’s May, shouldn’t it be warm?” I ask, dusting the sleet from off my jacket.

  Hank smiles and shrugs. “Montana weather is…diverse, to say the least. C’mon, let’s get you inside.” I follow him through the house into a large den. Waving his arm, he signals for me to take a seat. “So, let me start by saying I’m the head of the Brotherhood Protectors.”

  “Yes, I’ve been meaning to ask you what in the hell that is since you didn’t explain much over the phone,” I answer as I flop down on the couch.

  “Well, the Brotherhood Protectors is something I thought up after I got out. It’s a way to harness the energy, integrity, and desire to protect those separating from active duty, like yourself. We’re made up of the best of the best,” he boasts, walking past me toward a leather wing chair.

  “That’s not exactly me,” I mumble under my breath.

  “How’s that shoulder of yours?”

  I glance down at my right arm. “If it were all right, they wouldn’t have forced me into early retirement,” I mutter, settling into the comfortable leather.

  “You could have stayed on, been a SEAL instructor.” Hank takes the seat directly in front of me and waits for my response.

  A woman comes into the room and stands next to Hank, placing her hand on his shoulder. “You two boys need a beer?”

  “That’d be great, Sadie,” he says, patting her on the ass.

  Once she leaves, I answer, “Sure. An instructor who can’t shoot a gun. No thanks.” I turn my hand palm up and attempt to wiggle my fingers. They move, but my range of motion has been cut by more than half.

  “Well, I’m glad you made the trip out here in the middle of nowhere,” he confesses.

  “I’m still not sure why I came. Don’t know what I can do for you with this bum arm.”

  Hank leans forward in his chair, his brows furrowed. “I know you were a sniper, and not having full range of motion in your hand is devastating, but you’re not useless. I wouldn’t have given you this job offer if I thought otherwise.”

  “How did you get my number in the first place?”

  Sitting back in his chair, he smiles. “Top.”

  “You know him?” My old captain wasn’t one to socialize with just anyone, and this intrigues me.

  Sadie returns with two bottles of beer, handing one to Hank and one to me. “Thank you,” we both say in unison. She smiles, then leaves the room.

  “We go way back,” he answers, then takes a pull from the bottle. “He called me the day your unit came back from Afghanistan. He knew then you’d need something to keep you going.”

  “The day I woke up in the hospital, I knew I was done. There’s no coming back from a hollow point through the shoulder. At least, not if it were me doing the shooting.” Pressing the bottle to my lips, I take a sip.

  He nods with a grimace. “That’s what I was told as well,” he admits.

  “What, were you checking up on me?” I cough, almost choking on the liquid going down my throat.

  “I have some connections—both current and former military—and wanted to know when you were being released from Bethesda so I could call and offer you a job.”

  I narrow my eyes, but decide to give him the benefit of the doubt. “Well, here I am,” I sigh. I still don’t see how the head of the Brotherhood Protectors can use me for anything. I can’t even ball my hand into a fist. “What is it exactly you want me to do?”

  “It just so happens I already have an assignment lined up for you.” Hank stands, then walks over to a table on the other side of the large room. He brings back a manila folder and hands it to me. “Abigail Montana.” Taking the file from him, I open it as he sits back down. “She and her three-year-old daughter, Avery, live close by.” I read the dossier over.

  “Wait. Abigail Montana. Living in Montana?”

  “Yes, the humor is not lost on me,” Hank chuckles, “but she didn’t grow up here.”

  Still, you can’t make this shit up.

  If I do take this job, I’ll need to ride her about that.

  “This says she needs help with the farm. I grew up in Jersey City—I don’t know how to run a farm.” This is insane. The closest I ever came to a farm was when my parents took me and my two brothers apple picking in the fall. Taking a swig from the bottle, I continue looking over Abigail’s profile.

  “She’ll show you,” he assures me. “Besides, that’s not the real reason you were hired for this job.”

  “It’s not?” I ask, confused.

  “Look,” he says, leaning forward in his chair, “her father is concerned. Her ex-husband dragged her here, practically kicking and screaming, and now she doesn’t want to go back home to Colorado.”

  “Says here the ex is in prison.” I keep reading, her backstory becoming more and more intriguing.

  “Yeah. Vehicular manslaughter. His daddy is a big shot here in Eagle Rock, so we’ll see how long he stays there.”

  “Sounds like a stand-up guy,” I mutter under my breath.

  His sarcastic chuckle makes me pick my head up from the brief. Closing his eyes, he shakes his head slow, then looks at me. “Everyone around here can’t stand the son of a bitch. He thinks his shit don’t stink cause of who is father is,” he says on a sigh. With a shrug, he changes the subject. “A friend of hers, a cop, has been by the farm, but he has a family of his own, and with his job, can’t do too much to help her out.”

  “My arm is still pretty fucked up,” I admit, glancing down at my fingers.

  “There are a couple physical therapists around here the guys frequent. I hope you’ll be willing to go. It’s included with the employment if you’re up for it.” I think about that for a second. The doctors at Bethesda did say physical therapy could improve my grip. It won’t ever be the same as it was, but anything is better than it is now. I try to close my hand into a fist, but my fingers only reach a little more than halfway.

  “All right. I’ll do it. When do I start?”

  Abigail

  “Avery, time for dinner,” I sing to my obstinate child from the kitchen as I stare out the large window, watching the cattle attempt to graze in the pasture. It started snowing this morning, and now sleet and ice cover the ground.

  Paradise Valley Ranch covers over a thousand acres and houses an efficient and productive cattle operation. With a varied landscape of timbered ridges, irrigated pastures, and rolling hillsides, the sub-alpine setting of the ranch is private. Although we are in the middle of nowhere, the ranch still has the modern sophistications of a state of the art, custom-designed residence. I fell in love with the snow-capped peaks of the mountains, which provide a magnificent backdrop to drink a warm cup of tea to.

  The problem is, it’s huge—more than I can handle alone, and I’m thinking of selling.

  Prying my eyes away from the outdoors, I turn to the child sitting on the floor. “I no eat,” she says, continuing to play with her blocks.

  The twos were definitely terrible, and these threes are unmistakably trying.

  I can’t wait to see what the fours bring me.

  “C’mon, sweetheart. You love macaroni.” She continues stacking the square, wooden boxes. It’s like she can’t hear me—she’s in her own little world where I don’t exist. “Avery, I will put you in time out if you don’t listen to me.”

  “No!” She takes a block and wings it across the room. “I no eat now.”

  Placing my hands on either side of my nose, I squeeze the bridge and breathe deep.

  In and out.

  Slow and steady.

  Between trying to keep this place running and taking care of Avery, I’m exhausted. Only a couple more days until she starts preschool, and then I’ll have a little time to myself.

  “Avery, you need to—” A knock at the door startles me, and I jump. I’m not expecting anyone, and the ranch isn’t the kind of place where people just randomly stop by. You ha
ve to go out of our way to make it up the long, winding driveway.

  The ranch was a gift from Richard, Danny’s father, when Danny and I first got married, and he decided to relocate us from Colorado to Montana. I didn’t want to go. I never lived away from my parents. We fought about it for months, and I should have known right then our marriage wasn’t going to work. After some time, I started to enjoy being here. I made some friends, and so did Avery…

  Now, I’m lonely.

  I scoop up Avery off the floor and shuffle to the door. She squirms in my arms as I peer out the window. “Momma, down,” she squeals, pushing away from me. I hold her tight as I examine the man standing on my porch. He’s tall and handsome, and wearing a light jacket—way too light for this time of year. I’ve never seen him before. This town is pretty small. I would have heard if a good-looking man recently took up residence here.

  Placing Avery at my feet, I call out, “Who is it?”

  “My name’s Ryan, ma’am. I was hired by your father to help you out with the ranch.”

  My father.

  Why am I not surprised?

  “Just one minute,” I answer, stepping back. Avery walks back to her blocks, ignoring everything around her. Reaching into my back pocket, I take out my cell phone and dial the person who can confirm his story.

  “Hello.”

  “Dad, why is there a strange man standing at my doorway?” I peek out the window again, trying to get a better look.

  “Oh, yeah. I guess I forgot to tell you about that,” he admits.

  “Forgot to tell me what?” I challenge, watching the man pace around the porch. He’s not wearing cowboy boots—another sign he’s not from around here.

  “I hired someone to help you around the ranch. You know, since you’re there by yourself.”

  “Dad!” I huff.

  “I have a friend who knows those Brotherhood Protectors ex-military guys. He’s one of them.”

  “You have got to be kidding me.” It was more of a rhetorical statement, but my father answers me anyway.

  “You needed help, so I got you help. The other alternative is you and Avery come home and leave that sorry excuse of an ex behind.”

  I sigh, continuing to watch the stranger’s uncomfortable canter. His haircut does have that military feel to it, but it’s hard to see his physique through the jacket. “You know I can’t do that, Dad.”

  I should, but Avery has friends here.

  I have friends here.

  “Just a suggestion,” he adds.

  “I’ve gotta go,” I mutter, then press end. Side-stepping over a block Avery left in the middle of the floor, I move toward the door. As I open it, his head spins around to my direction. He’s facing the driveway, like he was about to leave. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting anyone and needed to confirm your story. Please, come in.” My face heats with embarrassment.

  He pauses for a moment, then turns back toward me. “Thanks,” he answers with a nod. The chill of the outside hits me, and I wrap my arms tight around myself, pulling my sweater closed.

  His body shivers as he enters the house. “I’m Ryan Kane.”

  Closing the door behind him, I turn and find his hand extended toward me. “Abigail Montana,” I answer, taking his hand in mine. His grip is soft yet firm, and his hand is warm even though it’s freezing outside. “But you can call me Abby.”

  “Oh, I already have a nickname for you.” He looks me over and nods. “Yep, will fit perfect.”

  “That’s a little presumptuous of you, isn’t it?” I ask, and a grin spreads across his lips.

  “Sorry. I’m an ex-Navy SEAL. We all have nicknames,” he says, slight embarrassment in his tone. I cross my arms and wait for an explanation. “Mine’s Irish. Boys weren’t too original with that one.”

  My face breaks into a smile. “Irish. I like that.” I begin to relax and move toward the kitchen. Avery’s been quiet, and that usually means trouble. “So, Mr. Ex-Navy SEAL, what’s mine?” Looking over the kitchen island, I spot Avery on the floor quietly playing with her blocks.

  Nothing’s broken.

  I’ll take that as a win.

  “Montana.”

  “That’s original,” I quip.

  “I thought it was interesting a girl with the last name Montana lives in Montana,” he chuckles. “Any relation to Joe Montana?”

  “Who?” I ask, confused as I take a seat on a barstool.

  “Never mind.”

  “Momma, I hungry,” Avery whines from her spot on the floor.

  Ryan takes a seat next to me and glances at my demon child on the floor. “This must be Avery.”

  She looks up at the strange man sitting next to me for a second, then continues building her empire of blocks. “I want chicken,” she says, her focus on keeping the squares stacked.

  “I told you it was ready before,” I answer, “but I didn’t make chicken. It’s macaroni. Remember?”

  “No macaroni. I want chicken,” she yells, knocking her blocks over.

  “Let me give it a go,” Ryan says as he stands.

  “Sure. Knock yourself out.”

  Ryan

  I’m not really sure why I was hired for this job. It looks like Montana could handle any situation thrown her way. Her toned physique reminds me I need to get to the gym more often. And damn, she’s beautiful. Underneath her blonde hair peeks eyes of hazel and honey. The smooth green on the edge contrasts beautifully with the amber color in the middle, and they shine like sunlight on polished stone, hiding a wealth of well justified mistrust.

  I’ll win her over.

  I always get my man…or woman, as the case may be.

  Avery is a spitting image of Montana. She’s going to be a knockout when she gets older. And she’s a little spitfire. I’m guessing just like her mother. I move cautiously toward the toddler. “Hi, Avery, I’m Ryan,” I inform her, watching her play with stacks of blocks.

  She looks up at me, her blue eyes shining with curiosity. “Are you my new daddy?”

  “Avery!” Montana shouts.

  “I’ve got this,” I answer before she goes any further. Turning back to the child, I squat down to her level. “No, sweetheart. I’m here to help you and your mom out around the farm. Is that okay with you?”

  She looks at me for a second, then smiles. “You wanna help wit my bocks?”

  Montana gasps, and I turn my head toward her. Her eyes are wide, and her jaw hangs open. I furrow my brow, and she answers my unspoken question. “She never lets anyone play with her blocks. Including me.”

  I turn back to Avery. “I would be honored to help you build whatever it is you’re building. Could we do it after you’ve eaten your macaroni?”

  She tilts her little head to the side, as if pondering my question, all the while studying me. “Otay,” she answers and stands. “Momma, I eat ronis.” She bounces toward her booster seat, then lifts her arms.

  Montana laughs and shakes her head as she lifts the adorable child. “I don’t know how you did it, but keep it up,” she whispers as she buckles Avery in. “It’s never this easy.”

  After placing the pasta in front of the tot, she turns back to me. “There’s a guest room toward the back of the house you can use. It has a separate bathroom so you’ll have your privacy.”

  “Thanks. Anything would have been fine.”

  “Will your girlfriend have a problem with you staying here?” Montana’s cheeks are suddenly kissed pink like a spring rose, the blooming color so cute against her freckled skin. She looks away and finds a distraction at the sink, washing up a plate that doesn't need it.

  It’s adorable.

  “I don’t have a girlfriend.” The plate clanks against the bottom of the sink, and I chuckle inwardly. Moving toward the door, I say, “So, I’ll be back tomorrow morning with my things, say around eight?”

  “Yes. Tomorrow will be perfect. I’ll have time to get your room ready.” Turning from the sink, she gives me a smile that seems so genuine wi
th just the right touch of shyness, warmth flows through me.

  “Avery, is it okay if we play blocks another time? I didn’t know how late it was.”

  She glances up through her long, thick lashes from her bowl and regards me for a minute. “Pomise?”

  “Yes, I promise.”

  “Otay,” she says, then shoves another spoonful of macaroni in her mouth.

  “It was a pleasure meeting you, Avery,” I add with a mock bow.

  She giggles, then says, “Bye!”

  I turn my attention back to Montana. “Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow,” I murmur, my face stuck in a semi-permanent smile. An excitement rushes through my veins from sheer anticipation. Happiness flares in her eyes, and for the first time in a while, it does in mine too.

  Closing the door gently behind me, I saunter to my truck. The winds have died down, and the sun is attempting to peer through the leftover clouds. I have a perfect view as it dips behind the crest of the mountains, the sky awash and ablaze with colors found at the heart of a fire.

  It’s breathtaking.

  When I was left standing on the porch, I was inches away from getting in my truck and going back to Jersey.

  Now, I’m looking forward to farm labor.

  Ryan

  The one thing I missed about Afghanistan was the amazing sunrises. I would get up every morning before dawn and watch it rise above the mountains.

  Afghanistan has nothing on Montana, though.

  Leaning on the side of my truck, I watch in awe as bright streaks of red, pink, and orange overcome the dark blue and purple of the twilight sky. It resembles a prism, all the colors blending perfectly into each other. The sun is just peeking out from behind the mountains, and its brilliant rays are already shining bright, warming the air.

  Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath through my nose, and sigh. I’m excited to be embarking on this new journey. It’s been a while since I’ve been truly happy, and I’m starting to remember what that warmth feels like.