CHAPTER 10
The truck jerked as the sickening sound of twisting metal filled Travis’s head. Adrenaline surged through him as he unbuckled and hopped out the door, heart pounding in his ears. His stomach reeled at the sight of a red bike embedded underneath the trailer, front fender broken and bent.
Where in the hell was the rider?
Scanning the road, he spotted a black leather-clad rider lying in a heap in the ditch. For a heart-stopping moment, his body seized as he recognized a patch on the shoulder. Oh, God. Not another casualty. Prairie couldn’t take another hit. “Cassidy?” he shouted, legs springing to action. He reached her in three steps. She groaned and moved.
His vision hazed. “What. The. Ever. Loving. FUCK?” he roared, heating at her carelessness. She was a good rider. She knew better than to come careening around a blind turn at breakneck speed. From everything he’d heard, she was a stellar helicopter pilot. Responsible. Smart. And the guys at the station said she was a great firefighter too. God, what if she’d hit the truck and not the trailer? What if Dax had been with him? His stomach flipped as half a dozen catastrophic scenarios flew through his head.
She raised a hand but winced as she gave him a sheepish smile. “Hi, Travis. Nice morning?”
“Are you fucking out of your mind?” How could she be so casual about this? Hadn’t they all been through enough? A wave of nausea ripped through him at the thought of telling Dottie something had happened to Cassidy. The woman had already been put through the wringer, losing the diner.
“Nice to see you, too.”
He dropped to his knees and started squeezing her legs at her ankles, checking for broken bones.
She pushed him away. “I’m fine, Travis. I can move my fingers and toes. No spinal injury.”
“What about the rest of you?”
“I’ll be sore. Ow.” She winced and squeezed her right knee.
“You’ll need to get that checked out.”
“I’ll be fine. I probably hit a rock when I tumbled. Nothing a few aspirin and some ice won’t cure.”
He glared at her. “You should go to the doctor.”
“And get grounded? No thanks. I’m fine.” She tried shrugging him away as he brought his hands up to her neck. “C’mon, Travis. Help me up.”
“Not until I know I’m not injuring you further,” he growled. “You shouldn’t’ve sat up.”
“Right. I should have waited for the ambulance to come tell me I’m okay? Not.”
He clenched his jaw. She needed his patience, not his temper. “I should haul your ass to jail for how fast you were going. At the very least, cite you for reckless driving. Take off your helmet, and try not to move your neck.”
“I wasn’t going that fast. Honest.”
Sure. And he was the king of Spain. He held up a finger. “Follow my finger.” He moved it left, right, up, and down watching her eyes. It didn’t look like she had a concussion. His heartbeat slowed from a breakneck pace.
“You’re overreacting. I’ve been through worse. You probably have, too.” She leaned back on her hands. “Look, I appreciate the drill, but I’m fine. We Soldiers are tough, right?” She flashed him a smile.
“You’re incredibly lucky, you know that?”
Her smile broadened. “Of course I am. The gods are with me.”
Did she honestly think playing the military card would work? She was worse off than he’d thought. He’d recognized the signs, understood her need for speed. But everyone had to walk their own path through the minefield of memories. So he’d laid off. But no more. Not when her behavior was endangering others, too. “Until they aren’t. Then what? Do I get the pleasure of knocking on your parents’ door telling them you’ve flamed out? Or worse, on the door of some hapless victim of your stupidity and selfishness? You’re not invincible. Even if you’ve survived combat.”
A flush crept up her face. “I’m a safe rider, Travis. You know that.”
“Like hell you are,” he bit out. “I’ve been watching you for weeks. I know exactly what you’re doing, and none of it’s safe. It’s dangerous, and it’s gonna get you or somebody else killed.”
“How dare you say that?” she fumed. “My safety record is impeccable.”
“Not on the ground, and you know it. I see how you zip around on your bike, and how you put yourself in risky situations for the rush of it. I get it. The problem is, out here, you’re a danger to yourself and others.”
Her mouth thinned to a flat line. “I’m fine,” she spit out. “I just need to walk it off. And if it will make you happy, I’ll slow down.”
His teeth hurt from holding his jaw. God, he wanted to shake her. “I don’t think you understand me. You won’t slow down. I know that look in your eye. I’ve seen it before. Speed won’t help you find that high you’re looking for. Or get back what you’ve lost.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You can lie to yourself, Cassie, but you’re not fooling me. Call it survivor guilt or the need to feel alive like you did downrange, but you’re taking larger and larger risks with your life and with the lives of others.”
“Help me up. I want to see my bike.”
Travis extended his hand, and she winced as he pulled her up. “You’re deflecting, Cassie,” he said harshly. “Classic tactic.”
She took a step and gasped.
Her mask slipped, and he glimpsed the raw pain underneath the facade. Was that what Weston saw in him when he needled him to the point of blowing his stack? He softened toward the woman he’d always considered a sister. “Need help?”
“I’m fine.” She shook out her leg, then hobbled over to her bike.
The front tire of the bike was lodged completely under the trailer, the front fender cracked. He had to give her props for her stubbornness. She wouldn’t give. But she’d met her match in him. If he could help it, he wouldn’t let her flame out. It would destroy Dottie. “Last time, Cass,” he bit out. “You need help?”
She studied her boots, her face flickering with emotion. “Yes,” she whispered. “It’s stuck.”
Travis joined her, studying the wreck. She’d ruined her fancy bike. There would be no repairing it. “Damn, Cass. How fast you reckon it was going when it hit the trailer?” Judging from the skid marks and how firmly it was lodged underneath the trailer, he’d venture about seventy. Cassidy was lucky to be in one piece.
She looked so vulnerable, staring down at the pavement, and it pulled at a spot deep inside him. Hell, maybe Weston was right. Maybe he did need to talk to someone. How could he help her if he couldn’t help himself? He had to try. And he’d consider Weston’s advice. “Look. Here’s the deal. You can keep speeding, and I’ll write you up as soon as I get to town, or you can come out with me to the Hansen ranch tomorrow and spend some time with Hope and me working to gentle a new crew of mustangs.”
“What will that solve?”
Her voice sounded defeated. Hopeless.
He glared at her, unsure of how to get through to her. “The point is,” he punctuated, “you’ve destroyed a vehicle and damaged a trailer. What next? You? Someone else? Consider this your friendly intervention. I don’t think your Guard unit or commander would look kindly on an arrest record.”
Her eyes grew wide. “You wouldn’t.”
So that was her pressure point. Anything to stay in. “Try me. I give no shits about your military record.”
Cassie flinched and fisted a hand. “You’re an ass, Travis.”
“I’ve been where you are. I know what you’re going through. You can run, but your memories run faster.”
“You don’t know shit about me, Travis,” she yelled.
He stepped into her space. Her little temper tantrum had gone on long enough. Did she think she was the only one who’d gone through this? Had nightmares? Flashbacks? Fuck that. “Bullshit. You fly around in your little helicopter playing the hero, extracting assets. Shooting your weapons at faces you can’t see because all you have to do is look for a flare, a confirmation and a direction of enemy fire and you can unload your ordnance. Talk to me after you’ve looked a man in the eyes then slit his throat,” he yelled, pacing away from her. He scraped a hand over his face before looking back at her. “You don’t have a fucking clue about me either, Cassie.” He stalked back, pointing a finger at her. “And I may be off-duty, but I can still haul you up on charges.”
“Please, Travis. No.”
Begging wouldn’t work with him. Not now. He was done with her shit. “You have a choice. You can show up tomorrow at the Hansen ranch and help me out, or you can sit your ass in jail for a day and explain this all to your C.O.”
She glared at him. “Fine,” she ground out. She yanked at her bike again. She’d never get it out by herself. He checked his watch. If he hurried, he could still get to the auction.
But by the time he’d helped Cassidy get her bike stored in her parents’ garage and made it down the road to the auction, the horses were long gone. Travis ground his teeth in frustration as he made his way back to the truck, horseless. This day had gone to shit before he’d even gotten out of bed. He jammed the truck into gear and pulled back onto the road, making sure he didn’t fuck up the turn this time. He didn’t have time to care for horses anyway, so why was he suddenly so pissed off about missing this opportunity? He turned on the radio in a feeble attempt to silence those thoughts, clenching the steering wheel at the sight of a billboard he’d failed to notice on the drive over. An enormous image of Steve Lawson smiled down at him with the words LAWSON, the REAL Law and Order Sheriff.