Page 17 of Rush Turner (Seals on Fraiser Mountain #6)

Jessa

B y noon the kids were outside playing with the smallest goats. Aunt Marie was inside, cursing about flour prices and humming to the radio. I finally had five minutes to breathe and check my phone while the house was blessedly quiet.

I nearly dropped the phone when I saw the notification.

One new message — Kyle.

I hadn’t seen that name pop up since he was arrested. My stomach flipped, sour and sharp, and my thumb hovered above the message.

I told myself not to open it. I opened it anyway.

Hey beautiful. Miss me? You’re gonna pay for what you did. See you soon.

I read it twice, hoping my brain would magically change the words into something harmless. It didn’t.

My breath came in short, ugly gasps. The room spun just a little.

“Jessa? You okay?”

I flinched so hard I nearly threw my phone. Joseph stood in the doorway, a smear of mud on his cheek, his eyes wide.

“Yeah, buddy. Go back outside, okay? Tell your sister to watch the girls. I’ll be right there.”

He didn’t look convinced but ran off.

I sank down on the kitchen chair, fighting the tremble in my hands. How did I forget about him? I’d spent so long pretending Kyle was locked up forever, that he couldn’t touch me or the kids ever again. I should’ve known better.

The screen lit up again. Another message.

Don’t bother calling the cops. We both know they can’t protect you.

I slammed the phone face-down on the table. My mind raced. Who did I call first? The cops wouldn’t do anything until he showed up on my porch with a gun.

I needed Rush.

Rush

I was under the hood of a classic—she purred fine but something about her oil filter bugged me—when my phone buzzed in my pocket.

I almost ignored it. But something told me not to.

Jessa: Can you come here. Now. Please.

That please made my chest tighten. I wiped my hands on a rag, tossed it to Max without a word, and was in my truck before any of them could smart off.

I made the drive in record time. My boots hit the porch steps before the engine even stopped ticking.

The front door swung open before I could knock. Jessa stood there, barefoot, pale, her phone clenched so tight her knuckles were white.

“Hey,” I said, voice low, steady — the way you talk to a spooked horse. Or a woman holding back a tidal wave. “What’s wrong?”

She didn’t answer right away. Just stepped back to let me in. Her shoulders were stiff, her eyes flicking past me to make sure the kids were still outside.

“Where are they?” I asked.

“Backyard. They’re fine. Rush…” She sucked in a breath so sharp it hurt to hear. Then she handed me the phone.

I read the message once. Then again, slower. My hand fisted around the phone before I caught myself.

“When did this come in?” My voice was calm, but my pulse wasn’t.

“Half an hour ago.” She crossed her arms, hugging herself tight. “I haven’t told Aunt Marie. Or the kids. I didn’t—” Her voice cracked. “I didn’t want to scare them until I knew what to do.”

“You did the right thing calling me first.”

I set the phone on the counter, moved closer until she had no choice but to look at me. Her eyes were glassy, angry, and scared all at once. I knew that feeling. I’d seen it on faces in worse places than this kitchen.

“He’s not gonna touch you, Jessa. Or those kids. I promise you that.”

She tried to shake her head, to put distance between us with words. “Rush, don’t say stuff you can’t guarantee. Kyle’s—he’s not like normal trouble. He gets in your head, he twists everything—I have to keep Joanie safe.”

“Jessa.” I caught her chin, forcing her to focus on me, not the stalker who stalked Joanie. “Let me handle him.”

A bitter laugh slipped out of her mouth. “Handle him? You gonna wrestle him like you do the goats?”

A grin tugged at my mouth despite the storm in my chest. “If he’s dumb enough to show up here, yeah. I’ll drag his ass to the pen and have all of those goats head buting him. Let him see what real trouble looks like.”

She huffed a laugh that turned into a sob. She pressed her face into my chest, the fight draining out of her all at once.

I held her there. Not mushy. Not soft. Solid. Unmovable.

“Hey. Look at me.”

She tipped her head up. God, those eyes.

“You’re not alone in this. Not anymore. I mean it.”

She stared at me for a heartbeat. Then her expression shifted—fear melting into something sharper. Hotter.

“You know what I need right now?” she whispered, fingers curling in my shirt.

I knew exactly what she needed.

Tonight, sweetheart, we’ll be together.