Chapter Twenty-Three
FIGHTING FOR LOVE, or even a second chance to say those words and demand to know how Noah felt—not his determination to keep her safe, but what was in his heart—required finding him.
He wasn’t at the bar. She’d stopped by and found April in charge. And he wasn’t at the house. Josie had said hello to his dad before heading back to the parking area where her Mini stood beside his truck. Holding tight to her determination, she marched across the gravel and headed for the barn door.
The kittens greeted her as she flipped the light switch. Overheard, the fluorescents illuminated the mechanical bull in the corner.
“Ouch!” She glanced down and found a pair of kitten-sized claws digging into her Converse sneakers. The stupid shoes were too old and worn to protect her feet from a playful fur ball.
“Crying with pain?” a familiar voice jeered. “I haven’t touched you yet.”
She looked up and froze, her gaze locked on the shotgun’s long barrel. It was the second time she’d had a gun pointed at her in Noah’s barn. But the man holding the shotgun was twice Caroline’s size. And he wasn’t a crazy former marine. She knew him.
“Travis,” she said slowly. “Please put the gun down.”
“It figures you’d be here,” he said without lowering the weapon. He stood on the faded cushion, the bull at his side like a mechanical sidekick. “Always with him, aren’t you? At the bar. In his barn.”
Always with who? Noah?
She struggled to put the pieces together. Why, after all this time, would Travis come after her? She’d barely seen him since she’d returned home. Not after Noah kicked him out of the bar.
But he’d seen her. He’d been watching them. Her. Noah. Caroline.
“You’re the one who sent the pictures,” she murmured. “And you shot at Noah.”
“You didn’t even see me up in that hunting stand. I would have made the shot if you hadn’t played chicken, hiding behind the tree.”
I wasn’t there.
He’d mistaken Caroline for her.
“You were after me,” she said, her hands trembling. Oh God, after all these years, her pissed-off, hot-tempered ex had been hiding out, hunting for her. It felt as if her life was spiraling out of her control. Maybe Noah was right to fear the things that were far beyond his power. She’d been so sure someone was searching for poor, paranoid Caroline.
“Not you,” he sneered, keeping the barrel pointed at her. “I’m here for Noah. He’s humiliated me one too many times. Starting rumors. After he broke my nose, I couldn’t get a job. Did he tell you that? Word got out that I had anger issues. I couldn’t pay for school. Now who do you suppose started those rumors?”
Someone you hurt? Someone you hit?
She’d never breathed a word. Noah was the only witness. But now she wished she’d spoken up. How many women had he hurt? How many girlfriends fell for him and then stepped back in shock when he unleashed his anger? Had they blamed themselves? Or started spreading rumors . . .
“It wasn’t Noah,” she said.
“He kicked me out of Big Buck’s. I come in for one damn shot. A chance to welcome you home—”
A shudder ran down her spine. She didn’t want his welcome. But she’d never suspected it would lead to this.
“He refused to serve me in front of the whole fucking bar because you ran away from me,” Travis continued, his grip tightening on the shotgun. “Let’s see how much of a hero he is when I point a gun in his face.”
“If you want to find out,” Noah called from behind her. The sound of his voice moved along with the click of his work boots on the barn’s cement floor. “You’d better aim that thing at me.”
NOAH STARED AT the shotgun as the truth sank in. Night after night, he’d been chasing a threat that didn’t exist. He’d been convinced Dustin had followed Caroline to Oregon. But Dustin wasn’t out there. And Travis Taylor, the man he’d fought five years ago, didn’t want a piece of the AWOL marine—he wanted Noah.
Come and get me, asshole.
He would do anything to keep that gun aimed at him. Anything to keep Josie safe.
“You want to see me cower?” Noah challenged again, his gaze locked on Travis. His heart raced, beating faster and faster each second the gun remained aimed at Josie. “I’m your target, Travis. I’m the one to blame. Point the gun at me.”
The shotgun cut through the air. Travis held it steady, his dark eyes glistening with excitement. Noah knew that look. He’d witnessed it while deployed—on both sides of the battle. Travis wanted to hurt.