Page 3

CHAPTER 3

Ethan wiped the sweat from his brow, the Hawaiian sun relentless even as it set as he guided Mojo through the obstacle course. The Belgian Malinois moved with powerful precision, muscles rippling under his sleek coat as he vaulted over hurdles and wove through the poles. Ethan couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride—Mojo was a beast, and working with him was the kind of partnership Ethan thrived on.

They’d just returned from a high-stakes drug raid with local law enforcement, adrenaline still coursing through Ethan’s veins. The bust had been a success, and while most people would be unwinding with a cold drink, Ethan found his release in the rhythmic training sessions with Mojo.

As Mojo cleared the final hurdle, Ethan broke into a grin. “Good boy, Mojo,” he praised, crouching to give the dog a hearty rub behind the ears. Mojo’s tail wagged furiously, his dark eyes shining with intelligence and loyalty. “You’re the best.”

Ethan took special joy in working with Mojo since he’d been in a car accident a little under six months ago. He’d ended up with a concussion he still grappled with. He’d been in the Special Forces for years and had had lots of concussions, more than anyone should, but one car accident, and he’s still trying to recover.

He’s just been a bit bruised, but the concussion caused him to lose about twenty-four hours of his life. Still today, he had zero memory of anything that happened during that period, but he considered himself damn lucky. A bad rainstorm mixed with a dark night and an elderly gentleman. He could have gone over the cliff so, all in all, a few headaches were minor to what it could have been.

The sound of an engine broke the tranquility. A car rolled up, kicking up a cloud of dust on the dirt road that led to the Brotherhood Protectors’ compound. Ethan straightened, shielding his eyes against the glare of the sun. He recognized Brooklyn Alexander behind the wheel of the vehicle. He hadn’t seen her outside of Ohana’s Bar, where she’d brushed off his attempts at polite conversation with a sharp tongue and an expression that screamed "not interested."

Ethan frowned as she stepped out of the car. What the hell was she doing here? She’d made it pretty clear she didn’t like him. The tension radiating from her now was impossible to ignore. She looked frantic, her blond ponytail askew, her blue eyes darting around before locking on him. Her lips pressed into a firm line as she strode toward him with quick, purposeful steps.

“Ethan,” she said, her voice tight and clipped. “I need to talk to you.”

Mojo approached her and she automatically rubbed directly behind his right ear, just the way he liked. Ethan was shocked but didn’t want to show it. Mojo never went to strangers, and most people didn’t know that since Mojo had lost the tip of his right ear during an op, he liked to be rubbed behind it, not scratched.

Ethan crossed his arms, his brow furrowing. “This is a surprise. Didn’t think I was on your friend list.”

Her jaw tightened. “You’re not. But I don’t have a choice.”

His head snapped up. If Brooklyn Alexander was coming to him, something was seriously wrong. He tipped his chin toward the shade of a nearby tree. “Let’s talk.”

She hesitated, her hands fidgeting as her eyes swept the area again. Finally, she followed, her posture stiff and defensive. Mojo trailed behind them, his alert gaze flicking between them as if sensing the undercurrent of tension.

Brooklyn stopped a few feet away, crossing her arms over her chest like she needed the barrier. “It’s Liam.

Ethan’s chest tightened. Liam. She’d mentioned him once in passing at the bar, and Ethan had assumed the kid was her son. His gut churned. When someone brought up kids it always made him wary. “Your son is having a problem?”

Her eyes narrowed as if her temper had flared. “He’s my nephew, not my son.”

The correction hit like a slap, but Ethan didn’t let that show either. She was full of surprises today. He nodded, forcing himself to focus. “Okay. What happened?”

Brooklyn blew out a sharp breath, her arms dropping to her sides. “Yesterday a couple of guys tried to pull Liam into a van.”

“They tried to kidnap him?”

She shrugged. “The cops said there are some teenagers going around grabbing kids, putting them in the back of a van, driving around for five minutes, and then dropping them off again. Some sort of initiation into a new gang or a TikTok trend or something. But I think it’s more than that.”

Brooklyn’s voice was tight and clipped.

Ethan studied her closely, noting the way her hands trembled before she shoved them deep into her pockets, as though trying to hide her fear.

“Explain.” Ethan kept his voice calm and measured. “Why do you think it’s more?”

“Today, we went for ice cream after school. The van—the one the kids tried to pull Liam into—I’m sure I saw it at the ice cream stand.” Her voice broke slightly, and she swallowed hard before continuing. “The windows were tinted, and I couldn’t see inside. But nobody got out of the van when it pulled in.” She hesitated, her brow furrowed. “I know there’s more than one white Chevy Express Cargo van on the Big Island, but…”

Ethan frowned, leaning closer. “But your gut is telling you it was the same one.”

She nodded, her shoulders stiff with tension. “Yes. And then, when I pulled onto our street, I saw the white van turn onto the next street over.”

“You think they followed you home?” Ethan asked, trying to keep the concern out of his voice.

She nodded again, her movements sharp and jerky, like she was barely holding it together. “Look, I know it’s a lot to ask, but can you just check?”

Ethan exhaled slowly. “Check what?”

“I don’t know!” Brooklyn’s voice cracked as she threw her hands in the air. “You work for the Brotherhood Protectors. Isn’t this the shit that you guys do? Check the van. Check something. Find out if this is real or if it really was just some sort of prank.” Her arms wrapped around her midsection, as though trying to physically hold herself together. “How could this be a prank? How could teenagers go around throwing kids in the back of a van and it’s okay? It’s not a prank. I don’t care what the cops said.”

Ethan watched her for a moment, taking in the raw fear in her eyes. “Yeah,” he said finally. “It doesn’t sound like much of a prank. And if that’s what’s going on, it needs to stop—ASAP.” He paused, his voice softening. “Okay. You’re scared, and you need some help. Where’s Liam now?”

“Mrs. Forbes, who lives next door, invited him over to play with Archie, their corgi.” Brooklyn’s words rushed out. “She’s feeding him milk and cookies, which means he’s never going to eat the dinner I put in front of him after ice cream and milk and cookies. But still, I felt like it was safe to leave him there with her and Mr. Forbes while I came to find you. But, they’re elderly and I don’t want to leave him long, even though Mr. Forbes is a former Marine.”

Ethan nodded. “I see.”

“I tried to call,” Brooklyn said, her tone laced with quiet accusation.

“Yeah, sorry,” Ethan said, running a hand through his hair. She had his number? He didn’t recall giving it to her. He shook his head. “I just got back from working on a drug bust with the police. I haven’t been checking my calls.” He’d have to ask around and see who gave this woman his digits, not that it mattered, it was just a bit odd.

Brooklyn nodded, but tension ran along her shoulders. Her gaze softened as it landed on Mojo who was sitting beside her as if to comfort her. “He’s a beautiful dog.” She rubbed behind his ear again.

“Yeah, he is,” Ethan said. The whole Mojo thing unbalanced him. He gave himself a mental shake. “Okay, listen. I’ll come over to your place and check things out. I’ll set up some video cameras too. How about that? Will that help?”

Some of the tension left Brooklyn’s shoulders, her relief palpable. “That would be great. I’ll pay you for your time and for the equipment.”

Ethan waved her off. “You’re scared; I get that. Let’s take care of this.” He stood and gave her a reassuring nod. “Let me feed Mojo and get organized. I’ll grab the equipment and be over tonight, okay?”

Brooklyn gave him a weak but grateful smile. “Yes, that would be great. I guess I owe you one. Thank you.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Ethan said firmly. “I don’t know what’s really going on, but it sounds like there’s a problem. And I’m of the school that believes you should always trust your gut. If your instincts tell you there’s more to this, then we need to take care of it. Airdrop me your address, then head home. I’ll be over in a bit.”

She fiddled with her phone a bit, then his pinged with the incoming pin. With a nod, she moved toward her car, her movements less stiff. The view from the back was just as good as the one from the front. She filled out her jeans nicely and the sway of her hips made him long to touch them. Maybe someday. He was still staring after her as she roared down the driveway, gravel spitting up behind her tires.

Ethan stood there for a moment, watching her taillights disappear. He couldn’t imagine living with the fear that something might happen to a child you loved. The whole incident yesterday sounded like a nightmare, and he couldn’t blame Brooklyn for being rattled. What surprised him was that she’d come to him for help. Surely she had other people she could have turned to. Obviously, she knew where he worked so that must be it.

Still, he wasn’t upset about it. He was glad she’d come to him. He’d had his eye on Brooklyn for a while now, though she seemed oblivious to his interest. Maybe he was making more progress with her than he thought.

He rubbed the back of his head, grimacing as a familiar dull ache pulsed behind his eyes. The headaches continued to plague him. The concussion he’d suffered was a frustrating reminder that sometimes, the little things—like getting clipped by a distracted driver—could do more damage than the bigger, more dangerous events he’d faced in the special forces.

Shaking his head, Ethan stretched and rolled his neck, trying to ease the tension. He’d take some aspirin and get on with it. Brooklyn needed his help, and he wasn’t about to let her down. The fact that she trusted him enough to come to him meant more than he could say.

And maybe—just maybe—this was his chance to prove he was the kind of man she could rely on.

Ethan pulled out his phone, his gaze flicking between the dust Brooklyn had kicked up when she left and Mojo sitting next to him. His thumb hovered over Bellamy Chance’s contact for a moment before he pressed the call button. The line rang twice before Bellamy picked up, his voice crisp and alert.

“Ethan,” Bellamy said, a touch of curiosity in his tone. “How did today go? I heard you and Mojo kicked some serious ass. Coop and Nova said you guys were on fire, finding that drug stash hidden in the garden."

Ethan smiled down at his dog. "Yeah, Mojo was awesome. It was a good result, and I enjoyed working with Nova. Nothing like helping the DEA even if we only got called because she's dating Coop."

Bellamy chucked. "We'll take whatever jobs we can get, however we can get them. What’s going on? You up for a visit to Ohana's tonight?”

"I can't go tonight. I’ve got a kind of job I have to do," Ethan said.

"OK, well, if you need anything, don’t hesitate. We’re all here to help," Bellamy replied.

Ethan paused. “Actually, I could use some help.”

“Really? What kind of job? This doesn’t sound like a normal thing.” The lift in the man’s voice told Ethan that Bellamy’s curiosity was piqued.

“You remember Brooklyn, from Ohana’s?” Ethan asked.

Bellamy laughed. “Yeah, I remember Brooklyn. The woman you have a real thing for.”

“I wouldn’t call it a real thing, but... yeah.” Ethan shifted uncomfortably. “She’s having some issues.”

“What kind of issues?” Bellamy’s tone turned serious.

Ethan explained the situation with Liam and the van, detailing Brooklyn’s fears and her belief that the van had followed her home.

“She’s freaked out,” Ethan said. “And honestly, I believe her.”

Bellamy nodded. “Yeah, I’d believe her too. You want some help setting up security?”

“Nah, I just need to grab the equipment,” Ethan said. “Do you think Hawk will mind? I mean it’s his ranch and his equipment.” Jace Hawkins was also his boss, and he didn’t want to do anything to piss the man off.

“Not at all,” Bellamy replied. “You know he wouldn’t want to leave any woman in trouble. Go over there and fix it. Call me if you need anything. I’m happy to help.”

“Thanks,” Ethan said, heading toward his pickup. “Keep a beer cold for me in case I make it back tonight.”

“Have you ever known me to not have cold beer?” Bellamy said with a chuckle as Ethan hung up.

About thirty minutes later, Ethan pulled into the Brotherhood Protector Ranch’s command center. He’d gone home for a quick shower and fresh jeans and a t-shirt. Showing up to Brooklyn’s all sweaty wasn’t a good look. He hopped out of his truck and walked inside, the cool air of the room a welcome reprieve. Rusty Callahan stood in the middle of the space, arms crossed over his chest.

“What’s up?” Rusty asked.

“Not much, man,” Ethan replied.

“I heard you and Mojo were MVPs today.

Ethan grinned. “Yeah, thanks. Mojo was spot on.”

“Good stuff,” Rusty said as he rested his butt on one of the tables. “I also heard you’re going to help Brooklyn Alexander with a problem.”

“Yeah, she’s a little freaked out.”

Rusty’s jaw tightened. “I don’t blame her one bit. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with kids today. Who does that kind of shit and calls it fun?”

When had they started sounding like old geezers? “I hear you. It’s crazy as hell,” Ethan agreed. “I’m just grabbing the equipment Bellamy pulled together for me.”

Rusty nodded toward the table. “It’s all there.”

“Awesome,” Ethan said, walking over to check the setup. Rusty joined him, looking over the items.

“Think that’s enough?” Rusty asked.

“Yeah, this should do it,” Ethan replied.

“Well, like we said, yell if you need help,” Rusty said.

“Will do,” Ethan replied as he gathered the gear and carried it to his truck. He loaded the equipment into the back, climbed in, and started the drive toward Brooklyn’s house.

On the way, Ethan considered grabbing some food to take to her and Liam but thought better of it. Brooklyn hadn’t seemed particularly thrilled to ask for his help in the first place, and he didn’t want to overstep. Slow and steady—that was the approach he needed to take with her.

As he rolled into Brooklyn’s driveway, he took a moment to appreciate her house. It was a small, well-kept bungalow, painted in a muted teal with white trim. A sloping metal roof added a touch of rustic island charm, and he knew it would help with the wild rainstorms that they had. The front yard was modest but well-tended, with a lush hedge of hibiscus flowers framing the walkway. A few coconut palms swayed in the front yard casting shadows over the front porch.

The porch was wide and inviting, with a couple of rocking chairs and a small table with a pot of brightly colored plants. He wasn’t sure what kind. Wind chimes made of bamboo and shells hung from the eaves which added a nice homey feel.

It seemed like the kind of place Brooklyn would create—a reflection of her warmth and practicality. Not that he’d felt that warm personality directed toward him, but he’d seen it with others. Ethan took a deep breath and got out of his truck. Slow and steady he reminded himself. Slow and steady.