Page 28 of Tate (The Montana Marshalls #2)

And he’d stayed for Sammy-Jo, who needed someone to collect her memories with her, to care that they were fading, turning her world smaller with each day.

He’d stayed, of course, for Scarlett because he didn’t exactly know how he’d cope with leaving behind a mother who might not remember him the next time he returned.

Or worse, giving up the one thing he’d worked his entire life for—his career—to return home and watch his mother throw her life away.

So he stayed because she needed a friend.

But mostly he stayed because of Axel.

Because the man set his teeth on edge the way he now watched Scarlett’s every movement. He didn’t even bother to hide it from Gunnar, from Sammy-Jo, even from Ford.

Which is why Ford kept the boyfriend card on the table. Why he put his arm around Scarlett just often enough to make it believable without going over any personal lines between them.

Why, after that first night when he’d seen Axel consume an entire six-pack, he’d carried his sleeping bag onto the porch, right under Scarlett’s open window, just in case he heard anything.

Why he’d slept poorly that night, his dreams a poor place for his fears to linger.

And, why he stayed up on the porch, sometimes listening to an audiobook, watching Axel until the man turned off the glow of the television and went to bed.

Truth was, he couldn’t leave her. Because he still heard her voice in his head. Gary.

But for a moment there, at the ball game, he’d nearly bolted. Panicked as his heart pulled a Rambo on him and went renegade, wanting to cast the truth at her feet. I don’t know how I’d do my job without you. I mean I would, but it would…it would stink.

The words almost tipped his lips. And it would stink, but he was a pro and he’d get the job done—Hooyah—even if she wasn’t on the other side, feeding him quiet information. Truth was, he could probably figure out how to do his job without Scarlett. He just didn’t want to.

Worse, he knew how terrible it sounded. Because she was in a no-win situation with her mother, and of course, all he’d thought about was himself.

So, if she decided to leave, he’d suck it up. He didn’t do vulnerable and needy, and his panic belonged in some sappy television show they always got wrong about Navy SEALs. Something that might happen, but no one really wanted to admit.

Still, his brain had tangled up into a mess of catastrophes and left him with nothing but staring at her, trying to figure out what to do next.

Until Gunnar had hit that home run today and he was saved by the seven-year-old.

Ford even got a hug out of it, one that lingered rebelliously in his head.

What he’d come to, after a day of pacing it out in his brain, was…he had no right to tell her that she couldn’t…well, do whatever she needed to.

In the meantime, he’d keep a keen eye on Axel, even if he had to sit on this cold porch all night, again.

He went out to the truck and retrieved his sleeping bag and self-inflating pad and settled down below Scarlett’s window.

The temperature hovered in the low sixties, and her window was open to the night, no AC in the house. He lay down, folded his arms under his head, staring out at the sky, the stars so bright they fell in a cascade of diamonds.

He’d slept under skies all over the world, but none felt right until he stretched out under this part of the world. How many times had he slept out on the range with Rube, Knox, Tate, and Wyatt—and even Ruby Jane. He’d longed to be like his brothers—cowboys, tough as leather, afraid of nothing.

Wow, he missed them. And the thought of calling his mother tomorrow and telling her that he couldn’t make Reuben’s wedding put a knife through his ribs.

But he couldn’t leave Scarlett in this mess. Not until she got her feet under her, figured out what to do.

Maybe not even then. Because this week had been a weird sort of vacation, detaching himself from his everyday routine of PT, training, lunch, more training, maybe lifting in the gym, occasionally picking up a game of basketball. A few of the guys liked to sea kayak, so he sometimes joined them.

Had taken a few surfing lessons.

But mostly, he spent his time alone, in his thoughts, reliving scenarios. Often in the gear room caring for his kit, his weapons.

His entire life was his job—he’d breathed being a SEAL since Tate became a Ranger. Had seen the pride in his father’s eyes after Tate graduated from Ranger school and wanted that too.

But he’d missed out on so much. His father’s death being the biggest regret.

He’d gotten the news from Knox, who’d been out on the circuit trying to make a name as a professional bull rider.

And Reuben had been smokejumping and Wyatt playing in the minors, Tate working as a bodyguard, Ruby Jane in college and he—he’d still been struggling through SQTs back then, trying to qualify.

His father had never seen him receive his trident.

His throat tightened at the memory. Ford, Dad died. Heart attack while he was out moving cattle.

Which meant he’d been alone. Not one of his sons around to help him.

Ford sighed and threw a hand over his eyes.

And that’s when something crashed in the kitchen—glass breaking, then a shout. “Get away!”

Ford found his feet in a second, still not in his bag, and hit the front door.

He slowed at the sight of Axel with his arm around Scarlett, leaning over her from behind, his other hand moving over her body. He’d clamped one of her arms to her torso.

The other was free for her to use.

“Get—off—me!”

She slammed her foot into his ankle, hard, and he shouted. Then she made a fist and swung it behind her, aiming for the soft parts.

She must have hit something because he cursed and doubled over.

And she rounded out of his grasp and slammed her open palm in his chin, reeling him back.

“You—” He called her a word and that was just it.

Ford took two steps and yanked the man into a sleeper hold, pressing hard on his carotid artery and jugular vein. “Don’t struggle.”

Of course, Axel struggled, slamming his elbow into Ford’s chest. Ford saw a few stars, the pain of his busted rib crashing through his brain, but he held on.

Oh, the man reeked. More than beer—he’d probably graduated to one of the bottles of whiskey atop the refrigerator.

In seconds, Axel’s legs started to give out.

He went down like a noodle, and Ford caught him before he hit his head on the floor.

“Wow—how did you—how—that was so cool.”

Not the reaction Ford had expected from a kid watching his dad hit the floor, but, well, maybe he’d been through more than Ford wanted to guess. “He’s okay, Gunnar. Just asleep.”

The kid wore a pair of pajama bottoms, no shirt, and now crouched next to Axel, touching his face. “When he wakes up, will he be angry?” His voice trembled a little.

Oh. Ford looked at Scarlett, who stood next to the counter. Slowly she put down the kitchen knife she’d grabbed. She swallowed, a little white.

“You okay?” Ford said, standing up and putting his foot on Axel’s chest. He would normally flip the guy and put him in flex-ties, but well, technically Ford had broken into his home.

Scarlett should do the honors.

“Call the police—” Ford said.

“What is happening—oh, Axel!”

Ford saw the horror reflected in Scarlett’s face as her mother ran out of the bedroom.

He turned toward Sammy-Jo and wished he hadn’t. The woman wore a low-cut, black silky nightie and a shower cap. He wanted to throw a blanket over her, but she knelt beside Axel, her hands on his chest, and started to scream.

“Mom. Mom—it’s okay. Ford didn’t hurt him. He’s fine?—”

But Sammy-Jo began to wail, her hands over her face. “He killed him! He killed Axel!”

Oh wow.

He spotted Gunnar who had backed up, his eyes wide. Ford got up and walked over to the kid. “Gunnar. Buddy. Why don’t we let your sister try and calm your mother down.”

Gunnar nodded, and Ford pulled the kid close to him, headed him outside. “Why don’t you sit in my truck for a bit, okay? I have a pretty sweet sound system…”

He walked him over to the truck and put the keys into the ignition, turned on the radio, queuing up his playlist.

Shut up and let me go…This hurts, I tell you so

The Ting-Tings, spot-on for once.

Gunnar smiled up at him, but tears cut down his face. Ford shoved his hands into his pockets, wishing he knew what to do. Kids weren’t his thing, really. Sports, yeah, and he knew how to cook, but he was in over his head here.

The wailing had stopped, but the shouts, male and angry, turned Ford, and he sprinted back to the house.

“Scarlett!”

She stood in the family room, her mother in her arms as Axel came out of Gunnar’s bedroom, heat in his eyes, carrying Scarlett’s duffel bag, her belongings shoved inside, messy, trailing out.

He spotted Ford, and the crazy in his expression had Ford stepping back.

Holding up his hands. “Take a breath here?—”

“Out. Of. My. Way!”

If Axel’s hands hadn’t been full, no doubt he would have taken a swing at Ford. But he kicked the door open, stalked out to the porch, and threw Scarlett’s belongings into the yard.

Rounded, breathing hard. “Get out of my house.”

“Dude—”

“ Now !” He came back inside and strode toward Scarlett.

Ford moved in his direction. “Axel, step back?—”

Sammy-Jo twisted out of Scarlett’s arms and ran to the man, clutching him around his waist. “Baby—don’t leave me. I promise I’ll be good.”

Axel’s arms went around her, and Ford stood stymied as the man kissed the top of her head, smoothing her hair, shushing her. “It’s okay, Sam, I’m here. I’m not leaving.”

Scarlett looked sickened, shaking her head.

Axel looked over at her. “Now,” he growled. “Or I call the police.”

“You attacked me !”

“I tripped. You freaked out?—”

Scarlett’s mouth opened. Axel took her mother’s face in his big hands. “You’ll be okay, sweetie. I’ll take care of you.”

Scarlett shook her head. “If I leave, I come back with the cops.”

“Feel free. She’s my wife, honey. What do you think is going to happen here? She’s not going anywhere.”

Ford found Scarlett’s hand and squeezed because he felt very sure she might just lose the strength in her legs. Either that or pick up the knife again.

He tightened his hand on hers as she asked, “When did you get married?”

“Four months ago.” He smirked at Scarlett. “Say goodbye to Scarlett, Sammy-Jo.”

Her mother leaned back and looked at Scarlett, then smiled, her eyes warm, as if she might not know her. “Bye-bye, Scarlett.”

Scarlett drew in a breath, her body shaking. And if it were up to him, or any of his teammates, the man’s life might be in jeopardy.

Ford tugged her away. “He’s not worth it.”

“Send my kid back in the house.”

Ford wanted to be ill, but he led Scarlett out to the yard.

She shook out of his hand and stalked over to the open door of the truck while he retrieved her belongings from the yard and packed them in the duffel. He opened his back door and caught the words Scarlett was saying to Gunnar, whose wide blue eyes were in hers.

“Listen to me, Gunnar. If you ever need me. Or you’re afraid, or if Axel doesn’t take care of Mom, then you call me. Day or night, I’ll come for you. You’re not alone, okay? Ever.”

Ford closed the door and came over to the kid. “And me. You can call me. And guess what, I have an entire team of superheroes who will help you. All you have to do is call.”

Gunnar nodded, his eyes red.

“Gunnar, come in the house.” Axel stood on the porch. He tossed Ford’s sleeping bag and mat into the yard.

Gunnar climbed down from the truck and trudged toward the house.

Ford picked up his belongings and shoved them into the back seat. Scarlett stood at his open door. He came to stand in front of her. “Get in, Red.”

Her jaw tightened. She didn’t even bother to swipe away the tears, and he forced himself not to do it either.

But he stayed there, his back to Axel, his eyes on her until she got in.

Then he closed her door, turned.

Stared at Axel. The man had his hands on Gunnar’s shoulders.

Ford drew in a breath, crossed to the front of the truck, and got in.

He backed out. “Don’t look back.”

But Scarlett couldn’t tear herself away, her hand on the window.

“Red.” He didn’t know what to do.

She looked at him. Shook her head, her eyes red.

He raised his arm.

She hesitated just a moment, then slid over, put her head on his shoulder, and as they drove north to Montana, for the second time, the toughest woman he knew wept in his arms.