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Ryder was looking forward to this.
“There they are,” Jase said as the three of them strode into the rental facility. “Let me introduce you,” he added to Ryder. “This is Beckett.” He clapped a big, dark-haired and bearded man on the shoulder.
Beckett’s complexion and features hinted at native ancestry of some sort, and there was a thick scar in his left eyebrow. “Ryder,” he said, sticking out his hand. “Good to meet you finally.”
“Same,” he answered, shaking with him.
“I’m Noah,” the guy in the middle said, shaking Ryder’s hand next. He had brown hair and deep blue eyes. “Beckett’s married to my sister, Sierra.”
“Who my mom works for,” Finn added.
Noah grinned and reached out to ruffle Finn’s hair. “Good to see you, kid. You ready to rip up some dunes?”
“Hell yeah,” he said with a grin, but it faded when he looked at the auburn-haired and bearded man standing nearby on crutches. “Are you really gonna ride out there? With that?” he said, nodding at the guy’s leg, the bottom of a metal external fixator showing under the cuff of his sweat pant leg.
Molly had told Ryder all about the incident just before Thanksgiving, when he’d been caught in a landslide and buried alive. The fractures in his lower leg had been so bad, he was lucky he would be able to walk again.
“Aye. Cannae hurt it much more than it already is, eh?” His brown eyes twinkled as he reached past Finn to shake with Ryder. “Name’s Aidan, but everyone calls me Mac. Welcome.”
“Thanks, good to meet you.”
“Go grab your helmets,” Beckett told them, his years as A-Team commander evident in his natural air of command. “We’ll meet you out back.”
Ryder, Jase and Finn chose helmets and had a quick safety briefing that Ryder got the feeling was abbreviated because the others knew the owner and were frequent customers. “How old are you, son?” the owner asked Finn.
“Sixteen, almost seventeen,” Ryder answered before Finn could.
“He got a license?”
“Learner’s permit.”
The man grunted, eyeing both him and Finn. “You break it, you buy it,” he said, and walked off.
“I don’t have my learner’s yet,” Finn whispered to Ryder on the way out.
“Don’t worry about it.”
Outside, the others were already standing beside their buggies. Finn’s eyes widened inside his helmet as he stared at something over Ryder’s shoulder. “No way, you brought your dog?”
Ryder turned to find Beckett holding an old dog that looked like a basset mix of some kind, its long ears trailing far below its chin. It sat cradled in Beckett’s arms, staring at them out of droopy, red-rimmed eyes, his woebegone expression almost comical.
“Hell yeah, I brought my dog,” Beckett answered. “Walter loves it. He’s an animal out there.” With that he reached into a backpack at his feet and pulled out a small helmet.
Finn laughed. “He has his own helmet?”
“Course,” Beckett answered, carefully pulling it over the dog’s head. “And custom doggles, too.” He tugged them down off the helmet into place over Walter’s eyes, and Ryder saw the dog’s tail wag. “All right, speed demon, in you go,” he said, placing Walter in the passenger seat and strapping him in.
Everyone else was already in his buggy, so Ryder led Finn around to the tandem one they’d been assigned. He climbed behind the wheel while Finn rode shotgun, and everyone started his engine. Beckett raised a hand, gave the signal for forward, and pulled onto the path leading out to the dunes.
Ryder looked over at Finn, a grin tugging at his lips. “Ready?”
The kid’s eyes were sparkling, his teeth showing as he smiled. “Ready.”
He ducked out behind Beckett. Noah was behind them, then Mac, and Jase brought up the rear.
They climbed the worn path up the hill dotted with drifts of beach grasses, the sound and salty smell of the ocean growing stronger. At the crest, the full force of the wind hit them, cold and damp. Below them, the gray-green ocean churned with barely controlled violence, big rollers tipped with crests of white as they crashed onto the water-darkened sand. On either side of them, rolling dunes of golden sand stretched out as far as the eye could see.
Beckett turned his buggy hard left and opened up the throttle, engine growling and rear tires sending up sprays of sand. Ryder followed, chasing after him as Beckett tore down the far side of the first dune. All of a sudden, a shrill howl floated back to them.
“Is that Walter?” Finn called out over the noise of the wind and engine.
“Guess so,” Ryder said with a laugh. He wouldn’t have thought the old guy had that much life left in him.
Grinning, he floored it to catch up, managed to pull alongside Beckett for a moment. The howling started again as they sped down the next dune, and when Ryder glanced over, he couldn’t believe his eyes.
Old Walter was strapped in the passenger seat, head flung back, mouth wide open as he continued baying, long ears flapping behind him in the wind, doggles protecting his eyes.
Ryder glanced at Finn in disbelief, and they both burst out laughing. “This is the best,” Finn shouted over the noise, pulling out his phone to capture it on video.
Beckett allowed them to keep pace for a few moments to let Finn get some footage, then shot them a challenging grin and yanked the wheel hard left, cutting away again.
After that, the chase was on.
Jase, Noah and Mac all caught up to them, and the next thirty minutes was spent jockeying for position, everyone trying to get past Beckett. It wasn’t easy, but Jase managed to edge past him on the way up another dune, cutting him off and forcing him to turn aside at the last instant.
“Yes!” Finn shouted, throwing his fist in the air as they took the lead.
Near the top Ryder blocked Beckett from cutting them off, narrowly avoiding colliding with Jase, and kept the lead on the way to the crest. Once they reached it, he stopped suddenly, making the others swerve around them.
“What gives?” Noah called out, pausing next to them.
“Just switching drivers,” Ryder answered, and began unbuckling his harness.
Finn stared at him, wide-eyed. “Are you serious? I really don’t have my learner’s yet.”
“Have you driven a go-kart before?”
“Well, yeah...”
“Then you can drive this.” He got out, walked around the front and gestured to Finn. “Come on, take the wheel and get moving before they lose us for good.”
Finn hopped out, raced around and strapped in behind the wheel. Placing his hands at ten and two on the steering wheel, he shot Ryder an uncertain look. “You’re sure?”
“I’m totally sure.” If they were in danger of rolling, colliding or getting stuck, Ryder would grab the wheel and correct him.
“Okay, kid, let’s see whatcha got,” Beckett called out, stopped a little ways down the dune from them.
“Aye, lead the way, lad!” Mac shouted, waiting near Beckett’s vehicle.
“Take this downslope at an angle,” Ryder told Finn, pointing in the direction he wanted them to go with the blade of his hand. “Then head toward the water and run along the edge of the sand where it’s wet.”
Finn started off hesitantly. Ryder leaned back in his seat, hands on his thighs as he prepared to enjoy the ride. “There you go, you got it,” he said in encouragement as Finn slowly gained some confidence and put on a bit more speed, driving at a gentle angle down the back of the dune.
The front wheels touched bottom, and the terrain smoothed out for a bit. “That’s right, now head to the water.”
Finn did as he said, driving more cautiously than Ryder would have guessed most teenage boys would have. “Awesome,” Ryder said once they reached the flat part of the beach near the waterline. “Now, hit it.”
Finn’s fingers flexed around the wheel, then he hit the gas. They shot forward on the sand, the back end sliding slightly. “It’s okay, you’re good,” Ryder called out to him when Finn immediately let up on the gas. “Just ease off a bit until you straighten out when that happens, then hit it again.”
This time they ripped forward without slipping. He could tell the moment Finn began to relax and truly enjoy himself. A smile split his face and his shoulders lowered.
The other guys pulled up alongside them in a line to the left as they sped along, all making rude gestures. Even Walter’s expression was smug as he stared at them. Then Mac suddenly shot out in front of them.
“Whoa!” Finn shouted, yanking right when Mac cut them off and whipped past.
“Scottish bastard,” Ryder said with a grin. “You gonna let him get away with that?”
The look on Finn’s face said he would have, but then an evil smile curved his lips and he pressed down on the accelerator once more. Ryder let out a whoop and laughed.
The other guys took turns playing with Finn, pretending to veer at him and make him turn away. But the kid kept going, making the rest of them get out of his way instead, and finally they pulled alongside Mac.
Ryder and Finn both looked over at the Scotsman, who was somehow driving with his busted leg propped up on the passenger seat. “Ready?” Ryder said to Finn.
“Yeah.”
Grinning, Ryder held up a middle finger. “Now.”
Finn shot forward to cut around him.
“Now shimmy the wheel back and forth!” Ryder told him. Finn did, and Ryder glanced back in time to see the rooster tail of wet sand that sprayed up over Mac.
“Haha, yes! Suck it!” Finn shouted, then cackled like a maniac as he took off down the beach.
Ryder laughed along with him, clapping him on the shoulder twice. “Good work, son. That’ll teach him.”
They spent the next hour trying to spray sand on each other, and Finn was confident enough to brave the dunes when Beckett turned inland and started back. By the time they returned to the rental place, covered in sand, it was starting to get dark, a layer of mist creeping over the dunes and clinging to the ground.
Ryder pulled off his helmet to look at Finn. “Have fun?”
“The best,” the kid answered, face glowing with pride and the touch of the chilly wind as he unbuckled his harness. Once he climbed out, he received hearty thumps on the back and some hair ruffling from the other guys.
“How’s the leg?” Jase asked Mac as the other man hobbled out to grab his crutches.
“Still broken, wee man,” he said with a big smile, cheeks flushed from the cold.
“Does Tiana know you came out with us?” Noah asked dryly.
Mac’s smile faded a little. “Not exactly. She thinks I’m gettin’ the messages in town.”
Everyone laughed, and Mac took it good-naturedly. He winked at Ryder. “I’m married to a pregnant redhead. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt me, aye?”
On the way back to Crimson Point they stopped for a quick snack at a place overlooking the water. Ryder felt the best he’d felt in a long time. He was comfortable with these men. Felt like they understood him. Because they all knew nobody went to war and came back the same.
He stuck to water, didn’t even allow himself one beer, and was glad to find he wasn’t tempted or envious that the others had drinks. His thoughts turned to Danae, anticipation stirring at the thought of spending more time with her, hopefully tonight. That he was preoccupied with seeing her again soon instead of craving a drink proved he wasn’t too far-gone after all.
Jase stopped at Finn’s house first. The level of disappointment that hit Ryder when he saw the driveway was empty surprised him.
“Thanks again,” Finn said as he climbed out of the back seat. “That was awesome.”
The smile on the kid’s face was contagious. “It was awesome. And you did great,” Ryder said.
“Yeah, but just remember—none of us are gonna take it easy on you next time,” Jase teased. “No more rookie leeway.”
It was only a twenty-second drive to Ryder’s place, but it felt like longer, every yard taking him farther away from where he wanted to be. “He’s a good kid,” he murmured.
“Yeah, because he’s got a great mom.”
No kidding. Finn wouldn’t realize it yet, but hopefully in time he would realize how good he had it, how amazing Danae had been to shoulder everything and raise him alone after losing Finn’s dad. “Is she at work, maybe?”
“Maybe. More likely she ran out to grab some last-minute groceries or something.” He stopped in the driveway, the front porch light on. It should have looked warm and welcoming, but the thought of being alone in there suddenly felt depressing. “You sure you don’t wanna come over tonight?”
“Yeah. Thanks anyway.”
“Okay, but if you change your mind just come by. Otherwise, see you tomorrow morning.”
Christmas Day. “Yeah, what time?”
“We’ll probably be up by six at the latest. So say, eight?”
“Eight it is.”
Inside the cottage, he hung up his jacket, his mind on Danae. He was aware of the time constraint he was facing with her, but there was something about her that drew him, and he was already more interested in her than he had been in anyone for a damn long time. He would feel things out over the next few days, see if she was even interested in him or any kind of romantic relationship again.
Today had ended a helluva lot better than it had started. He’d needed to get out and do something fun, and the guys had been great. Spending time with Finn and seeing that big smile on the kid’s face was the best part.
He pulled out his phone when it chimed with a text, hoping ridiculously hard that it was Danae, checking in with him. Giving him an excuse to go back over there and see her again.
Instead, the message made his heart lurch and the blood drain from his face.
Hi, Captain Locke. It’s Alison, Roy’s wife. I just wanted to say Merry Christmas, and that we’re all thinking of you. I know the next few days will be hard on you too. You’ll be in our prayers. Take care.
The message was kind. Far kinder than he deserved, yet the words were like a KA-BAR to the heart.
His chest constricted, making it suddenly hard to breathe. He winced. God, he was a selfish asshole. She and eleven other families were grieving horribly right now, struggling with the absence of their fallen Marines, and he’d been out spending the day having fun to make himself feel better.
The words on screen began to blur, his mind carrying him back in time against his will to the worst day of his life. To the explosions, the rattle of gunfire. The wall of heat as the blast wave threw him backward. The acrid burn of cordite and scorched metal in his nose.
He’d been far enough away to escape any real damage. But his men hadn’t been as fortunate.
Cold sweat popped out on his face, his back, under his arms as his heart rate accelerated. He was trapped back in time, staring down into a pair of fear and pain-glazed green eyes. Alison’s husband. A mortar fragment had gone right through his body armor, piercing his chest.
He gazed up at Ryder, terror and agony contorting his face. “Don’t let me die,” he’d begged in a ragged voice Ryder could still hear. “Cap, don’t let me die.”
He had done everything in his power to save that Marine, and the others. Had stayed next to him on the helo back to base, squeezing his hand tight and talking to him until his voice gave out.
Alison’s husband had made it to the base hospital. He made it through surgery.
Only to die within hours of coming off the table.
Ryder blinked and his gaze refocused, the letters of the message becoming clear once more. Thank you, he made himself type back. Y’all are in my prayers too.
Not that that did anyone a damn bit of good.
He set the phone down on the coffee table, feeling wooden, a crushing pressure squeezing his ribcage. The terrible silence of the empty cottage settled around him, thick and oppressive.
You shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t still be alive when they’re all dead. You were their Captain. They counted on you.
He’d made a mistake. Had to have missed something in the intel report prior to leaving for the op. How the hell else could he have taken his men straight into an ambush?
He shot up from the couch, a wild, frantic feeling tearing through him. He wanted to scream. Throw something. Put his fist through the wall.
He wanted to hurt. He deserved to hurt.
He couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t handle the crushing guilt and responsibility. But there was nothing he could do to stop it now. Nothing except...
Without even realizing where he was going, he found himself ripping open the pantry door. He shot an unsteady hand out to grab the bottle he couldn’t resist a moment longer, desperate for relief. To escape the guilt and pain.
His fingers shook as he opened it, tears scalding his eyes. As the first big swallow burned down his tight throat, his mind had already embraced the oblivion awaiting him.
