Soft Target Read Free Page B

He’d certainly forgotten the quiet. Ghostly shadows of rail and barbed wire fences bordered the road, and behind the barriers empty fields hinted at livestock occupants. Wide dirt lanes interrupted the fences and led to large, well-lit houses peeking from behind massive trees.
    In five hundred feet, turn left , the GPS bleated.
    “Shit.” He slammed on the brakes and listened as his possessions crashed into the front wall of the container. His motorcycle would probably be in pieces.
    He turned left when commanded to do so and braced for a rutted lane. Instead the tires crunched on fresh gravel, and the tracks were so straight he could have removed his hands from the wheel.
    Hardwood trees towered over the driveway. Behind the trees, a rail fence separated the manicured shoulder from wild pasture. The jagged peaks of the Sawtooth Mountains loomed in the distance.
    The lane opened into a lawn. The stone house blended into the foothills, and its wide windows overlooked the front yard. Window boxes overflowed with early flowers, and lights shined as if someone was expected home.
    Parking in the garage, Gray swung the door open and peered inside before stepping into a kitchen with slate floors, oak cabinets and stainless steel appliances. It melted into a living room full of large, comfortable furniture draped with crocheted throws. A stone fireplace dominated the far wall, and thick wool rugs warmed hardwood floors. Windows and French doors showcased an expansive view.
    He switched on all the lights to check two extra bedrooms and a guest bath. The other end of the house was the master suite. A huge bed mounded with pillows faced another wall of windows and French doors.
    The master shower was straight out of a high-end spa. Without hesitation, Gray stripped and climbed in. The temperature was easy to learn but the dials for the jets were more confusing. Eventually he found a combination that left his muscles weak with relief.
    After his body was relaxed, he reduced the pressure and then stopped it altogether in favor of a soothing, warm rain. Standing under the water, he considered his options.
    The smart thing would be to go home now. Except for Nate’s worry...
    Besides, he owed it to Ollie and Ron. Nate’s grandfather and father had always treated Gray like another son. They’d shaped his adult life almost as much as his own father, and he’d never had the chance to tell them.
    Thinking of them took Gray back to their funerals, where he’d sat behind Nate, next to Kevin and Michael, and watched the twins hold hands so hard they’d both had bruises. But they’d never cried.
    Gray had seen Maggie’s composure crack once, and only then because he’d walked into the kitchen pantry in search of paper towels and met her tear-filled gaze. She’d barreled into him, wrapped her arms around his waist and hung on for dear life.
    At twenty-five, never having experienced loss, he’d had no idea how to help. He’d patted her on the back simply because he’d had nowhere else to put his hands.
    Now he was different.
    * * *
    How could Nate be oblivious? Gray had seen the twin telepathy work firsthand when Nate had been tossed from a final exam in Nebraska for cackling at a joke Maggie had heard in theater class—in Seattle. Why didn’t he see how her body language changed when no one was looking?
    Which, granted, wasn’t often. Those men watched over her like a daughter or a sister. But if she caught them doing it, she cracked a joke and offered them a refill. One large man had carried a case of beer from the backroom, and she’d thanked him but shooed him away, swatting him with her towel and telling him he’d worked hard enough this week. Even with the patrolman she’d hidden behind sarcasm and scolding as she’d pushed him out.
    She won dump truck races, consoled everyone else rather than dissolving into tears and worked alone behind the bar. If she knew he was here to guard her, she’d fight him every step of the