Chance: A Small Town, Enemies to Lovers, Protector Romance (Ghost Ops Book 2)
Chance: Chapter 37

Rory looked exhaustedby the time she was done closing up for the night. If she was anyone else, she might not be as resistant to being told she needed to go home sooner, but after the way Jimmy had talked to her, Chance thought he had an idea why she was so insistent on doing things herself.

Still, when they went out the back door with the others, Chance steered her toward his truck. When he took her to the passenger side instead of the driver’s, he could feel her starting to stiffen.

“Wait a minute. What about Clyde?”

Chance opened the door and waited for her to climb inside. She didn’t, of course.

“Clyde’ll be fine in the parking lot tonight.”

“And what about tomorrow morning when you have to go to work?”

“Blaze can swing by and get me. Already talked to him about it.”

“So you made plans without asking me?”

“Rory, you’re dead on your feet. You’re growing a human, for fuck’s sake, not to mention working your ass off tonight with the reopen, so yeah, I made a plan. You gonna follow it or fight me?”

She frowned for a second. “Fine.”

Chance closed the door behind her and went around to get behind the wheel. He had to wedge himself in, cussing, then press the memory button to get the seat to go back to his position.

“To be fair,” Rory said, “I thought I was driving Chuck home again so I didn’t put the seat back.”

“Chuck? You named my truck Chuck? As in Chuck the Truck?”

She sighed. “No, you asshat. Chuck Norris the Truck. Because he’s badass. Just like you.”

“Thanks. I think.”

“It’s a compliment. How did you get Jimmy turned around so quickly without him throwing a punch? Because he looked like he wanted to.”

Chance pressed the button to start the truck and the engine roared to life. “You want to know that, you gotta take a class out at the range. Proprietary information, babe.”

“Seriously?”

He loved how outraged she sounded. “Nah, I’m fucking with you.”

“For the record, I prefer the other kind of fucking.”

His groin tightened. “Me too, kitten.” He reversed out of the spot and hit the main street. “It’s something they taught us in the Army. Whenever somebody’s coming at you, you step into the swing, not away. You can deflect it and gain control by throwing them off balance. I simply moved before he had a chance to swing, because he was definitely planning on it.”

“You anticipated his move and blocked it.”

“Blocked and took control. He was emotional, too, so that didn’t help him. I jammed his arm high on his back and he had no choice but to move where I wanted.”

“I’m glad you didn’t hit him.” Rory was quiet for a moment. “I didn’t want those episodes, as he called them, when I was a kid.”

His throat tightened. “Of course you didn’t.”

“I was thirteen when I finally got diagnosed, but I had some problems before then. I’d be really thirsty and then I’d have to go to the bathroom a lot because I drank so much water. One time a teacher wouldn’t give me a pass and I almost peed my pants. But I got so desperate I ran out of the classroom and down the hall to the bathroom. The teacher called my granny. She came to get me, and I slept for what felt like a week. I was irritable, moody, and sometimes I was so hungry I thought I’d never get enough to eat. I even wet the bed sometimes. That was horrible.”

He reached over and took her hand. She squeezed his fingers. “After I was diagnosed, it wasn’t any better in some ways. Some kids made fun of me because I had to get my glucose tested and I took shots. This was before I had the pump and monitor. Those things made life so much more normal, but I didn’t get them right away. They were expensive, for one thing, and not as prevalent as they are now.” She sighed. “I used to ask why me back then. I was angry and scared, but Granny told me that nobody asked to be sick, ever, and that there were degrees of sick. My sickness was controllable, so I needed to do everything I could to control it. So that’s what I did. I’ve gotten really good at it, too, and that’s why I get mad when people patronize me or think they know what’s good for me better than I do. I don’t feel helpless anymore. But when Jimmy said what he did about my episodes, it took me right back to middle school when I tried to be strong so the other kids wouldn’t bully me. But I’d get weak, or I’d have a low-sugar event, and they’d say things about me being defective or they wouldn’t want me near them in case it was catching. Stupid stuff like that.”

“I’m sorry, honey.”

“Thanks. Emma Grace never took part in any of it. She was always by my side. I think she wanted to be a doctor back then and I was kinda her first patient in a way. She looked after me like a hawk. My grandparents let me go to her house and go on vacations with her family because her dad was a doctor. I often wonder if he hadn’t been, if I’d have been allowed to spend the night with anyone or go to the beach. I doubt it. My grandparents were already scarred from losing my parents, so I don’t think they’d have trusted anyone else with me after my diagnosis.”

“Understandable.”

“It is. You know, you haven’t asked if our kid’s going to have diabetes because I do.”

His heart squeezed. “I know there’s a slightly higher risk because you have it, but that doesn’t mean it’ll happen. If it does, we’ll handle it.”

“I should have realized that one of the red flags with Mark was when he started asking me if I was worried our kids might be diabetic. I said I wasn’t for the reason you said. Then he wanted to do genetic testing before we tried to get pregnant. But I already know I don’t have any of the genes that can make you higher risk. I was tested when I was a kid. Don’t remember why, though maybe my grandparents insisted. Anyway, he still wanted to do it, so I said I would. Then he ran off with Tammy and the point was moot. I always wondered if he made her get tested to see what kind of shit might be lurking in her genetics. Probably didn’t since she didn’t have any obvious defects. Unless you count being a back-stabber. But then he is too so they were made for each other.”

He hated that people she trusted had hurt her. “Sorry you went through that, but think you dodged a bullet there, babe.”

“It hurt like hell at the time, but I definitely did. I can’t imagine he’d have been happy at the farm. He’d have had to commute to Decatur, which isn’t far, but every time he drove across the bridge and through the historic district, he’d have wanted to move over there. If I’d gone with him, I’d be the one who was miserable.” She shook her head. “Nope, I’m better off without him. But I’m still pissed I spent money on a wedding that never happened. At least I sold the dress on Marketplace and got some money out of it.”

Of course she had. Rory was nothing if not practical.

They reached the farm and he turned into the driveway and went up to the house. The lights were on, because she’d set her interior lights to come on at dusk now, and the motion light on the porch lit up as they crossed in front of it. He’d had alerts on his phone for the new cameras, but it hadn’t been anything other than a few deer and one possum who went foraging near the barn.

They went inside and Chance left Rory to go and do his checks of the barn and outbuildings. Just because the cameras hadn’t shown anything didn’t mean he wasn’t going to be thorough anyway. Just in case.

The chickens were quiet but a peek inside told him they were fine. The garden was still standing. The barn loomed, a dark shadow in the night. The moon would rise later tonight, but everything was dark until he crossed the motion sensors and the lights came on.

He walked through the center of the barn and toward the outbuildings. Something came to him on the slight breeze that stirred. A whiff of spent gasoline, like from a four-wheeler. Chance withdrew his gun and crept forward, scanning the area and wishing he had some night vision goggles right about now.

Everything was quiet, though. Nothing stirred except a startled deer. He looked for tire tracks and found none so he kept ranging toward the tree line. He stepped into the trees, following that scent that only teased at his nostrils. Whoever had been there was gone now. They’d probably left when he’d turned into the driveway.

Fucking hell, he was gonna have to put a trail cam in the woods. He hadn’t done it because the woods were vast and he hadn’t thought he’d need it with the others he’d already installed. Clearly did if somebody was planning to lurk in the woods instead of venturing out into the open.

A twig snapped and he stopped to listen. But a shuffling in the leaves on the forest floor told him it was an animal foraging. He started to move again, searching for tire tracks in the leaves. The forest path was free of tracks, which meant somebody had deliberately avoided it.

He’d been gliding through the woods a good ten minutes when a motor revved a few yards away before speeding into the night. The forest muffled sound and obscured the direction, but he calculated it was moving west, same as the last ATV that’d visited when the garden was destroyed.

Whoever it was, they were smart enough not to trigger the cameras or the lights. But they’d been lurking in the woods, planning something. It was only when he’d gotten too close that they’d sped away.

Chance clenched the grip of his Glock as anger swirled in his belly. Somebody was hell bent on harassing his woman and forcing her to sell her land.

The choices were obvious. Jimmy Turton. Carter Coombs, who’d yet to say a word to Rory about the potential sale. And Ronnie Davis.

Chance didn’t know which of them it was, but he’d start with Jimmy since he’d been so utterly pissed tonight. Davis was sleazy, but he was the sort to throw money around instead of resorting to criminal activity. Junior was capable of it, but only if Daddy let him off the leash. Chance didn’t think Ronnie would risk doing that. Too much as stake, and Junior was a classic hothead.

Chance scouted where the ATV had been hidden behind some brush, looking for any clues. There was nothing but tracks where the driver had gunned it.

He gave up and headed for the barn, intending to walk through one more time before going back to the house. His phone buzzed in his pocket and his heart squeezed with concern as he answered her call. “Everything okay, babe?”

“Yes,” Rory said, sounding sleepy. “But I was worried. You’ve been gone a long time.”

Thank God she wasn’t having a problem with her blood sugars. “Just checking things out.”

He could have told her the truth, but he didn’t want to. He’d tell her tomorrow, when she was rested. Or maybe he wouldn’t. He didn’t want her storming over to the Turton farm or confronting Carter Coombs. Or, worse, tangling with the Davises again.

Because she would. Rory had taken enough shit from people during her life that she’d learned to fight back hard and fast.

That was his job now. Fighting for her. Protecting her. Loving her.

“When are you coming inside?” she asked.

“On my way now, kitten. Be there in five minutes.”

“Good. I missed you. Can’t sleep until you’re here.”

It wasn’t a declaration of love, but he’d take it. “You already in bed?”

“Yes.” He heard her yawn. “I’m gonna need a raincheck on that hot sex you promised me. Too tired tonight.”

“There’s always tomorrow, baby.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

She sighed. “If you leave me after all this, I’m going to be hella pissed. I might even buy a voodoo doll from Colleen and stick it with pins. Not that she sells those, but I bet she knows where I can get one.”

“Kitten,” he said softly, laughter and love mingling in his chest. “I’m not leaving you. I love you.”

She didn’t respond right away. When she did, her voice was softer than before. Wounded. “I’ve heard those words before. They didn’t mean anything in the end.”

Fucking loser ex-fiancé.

“Yeah, well I’ve never said them to anyone before you. I’ve made it thirty-five years of my life without falling for a woman. Until you. Think I know how deep and true those words are for me.”

He thought she sniffled. “You make me want to believe.”

“I want you to believe it, honey.” He stepped onto the back porch and slipped his key—the spare—into the door, his eyes stinging with emotion. “Coming inside now, Rory. Then I’m gonna get ready for bed and hold you all night. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

“Okay, Chancey Pants. But I… I like you. A lot.”

“I like you, too, honey. So damn much.”

“Hurry. I can hardly keep my eyes open.”

Chance locked the door, set the alarm, and shed his clothes on the way to the bedroom. Less than a minute later, he was in bed beside his beautiful, sweet, prickly Rory, gathering her into his arms and kissing her forehead. She sighed and curled her fingers into fists against his chest.

She was asleep almost immediately. But he lay awake, thinking about the ATV in the woods. Wondering who’d been there and what they intended to do. Why had they waited? As soon as he and Rory had arrived, they should have gone.

Unless they’d been thinking about harming more than property this time.