Page 1 of Tice's Kind of Trouble
ONE
Tice
The instant I walk into my buddy’s kitchen, I know something’s wrong.
“What’s up, B?” Kane asks, freezing mid-step, his whole body locking up.
B for Bethany.His little sister.
I’m locked on. If something’s wrong with Bethany, it involves me.
Much to my horror, her voice carries from the phone in Kane’s hand—strained and trembling.
“Someone broke into my house.”
Kane grabs the center of the island like he might flip it, his voice exploding. “BROKEinto your house?”
He’s already red at the collar, veins bulging, no detachment. No calm.
I swipe the phone from his hand and tap speaker. “Hey, you don’t know me, but I’m a former SEAL like your brother. He’s a little occupied right now—looking like his blood vessels mightpop—so why don’t you tell me if you’re safe and exactly what happened?”
There’s only a tiny pause before she answers. “I’m safe. I’m in a coffee shop right now,” she sniffs. “But I’m a mess. When I woke up this morning, someone had been in my house.”
My mouth opens on a growl I don’t mean to let loose.
Breathe. Donotbreak the phone. Get it together.
“You were asleep when they got in?”
“Yeah. And now… I’m not sure what they took. Or if I can even stay there alone.”
I’m already moving. Back through the door I just came in.
“Give me the address where you are, baby girl. I’m on my way. I’ll protect you.”
I know the place.
“Ten minutes,” I rasp, throwing the truck into gear. “Stay where you are. I’ll be there in ten.”
“Thank you,” she whispers, voice breaking. “I don’t want to be alone.”
Jesus. I don’t want her alone.
“If I could grow wings, I would. But it won’t be long—I’ll be there…” I growl, “to take care of everything.”
“Is my brother coming too?”
Kane was all but forgotten—even though I’m onhisphone withhissister.
“Yes. He and his girl are behind me in another vehicle.”
The sounds from the coffee shop—clinking cups, the hiss of the espresso machine, soft instrumental music—filter through the line as I listen to her breathe, shaky and shallow.
My heart creeps up into my throat, tight and choking. It takes effort to breathe.
Pushing the truck past the speed limit, I take curves like I’m welded to the road. Thank God for the upgraded suspension I installed like I knew this was coming.
Finally, her voice drifts through the speaker, soft enough to gut me. “What’s your name?”
