Thunder rumbled above them, but he didn’t slow or turn back. Connor didn’t either. But then, they’d run through hell together as SEALs. A bit of rain was nothing.
The entire team was used to discomfort. And right now, any and all of that would be a welcome distraction from the pit in his gut.
Finally, he slowed by the river and paced in a circle. He pulled out his earbuds and interlaced his fingers behind his head as he breathed fast.
“Feel better?” Connor asked as he fell in step beside him, chest moving just as quickly.
“No. I spent so long running from this. Avoiding. And I always thought it would go away. That all that shit would stay in Houston.”
“Eventually, what we run from always catches us.”
“Something I’ve learned the hard way.”
“Is Bronte gone?”
“I sure as hell hope so. I haven’t spoken to her in years. How does she just show up, enter my house, and tell the woman I love that we’re engaged?”
“It was never a love match for her,” Connor said softly. “It was a business deal that had already been done.”
He swallowed. “Distract me. Tell me you’ve made a move on that woman from the community center?”
Connor hadn’t said out loud that he was interested in Raven. But every time the woman was around, his friend couldn’t look away from her.
He frowned. “I tried to talk to her the other day after our town meeting. She was distracted by something on her phone though. She seems…skittish.”
“Skittish aroundyou? You’re a big teddy bear.” The man had three little sisters. It was ingrained in him to protect women.
“I heard she was engaged. Maybe it’s too soon for her. Or maybe she’s still in love with the guy.”
“Only one way to find out.”
“Should I use your technique of taking the last cinnamon roll?”
Joel shook his head. “Everyone needs to let that go.”
“I would, but—” Connor gaze suddenly shot to the right.
Joel heard it too. The crunch of leaves beneath feet. It was distant, but Joel and Connor were trained to isolate sounds. Be aware of their surroundings. Someone was out here with them…and they were getting closer.
Joel pulled the Glock from his concealed holster and moved one way while Connor went the other, both heading toward the sound.
Joel used the trees as cover, keeping his body hidden. Then he saw it—a man standing with his back toward him.
Jonah turned, pistol in hand.
What the hell?
Joel stepped out, gun held at a low ready position. “Jonah?”
The man’s gaze shot up. His eyes were wide with shock. He looked down at the pistol, then back up. “It’s not mine. I found it. I swear.”
“You need to turn it in at the station.”
Another widening of his eyes. “They’ll think it’s mine.”
Connor stepped out from behind, his own pistol at the low ready, pointed toward the ground. “Jonah.”
Jonah spun around.
