Page 28 of Rush Turner
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Rush
After breakfast, Jimmy begged me to take him and the other rugrats for a ride in the Bel Air. Jessa tried to say no, but she was no match for big eyes and sticky fingers.
So here we were — me, seven kids in the backseat and the front seat arguing about who got to stick their head out the window like a dog, and Tornadoattemptingto climb into the passenger side every time I stopped the car.
“You stay put!” I yelled at the goat for the third time as we pulled back into the driveway after our joyride.
Jimmy cackled behind me. “He loves you, Rush. He wants to be your copilot!”
“Yeah? Next thing you know, he’ll want to drive.”
The kids exploded with giggles while I parked under the old oak tree. Jessa stepped out onto the porch, hands on her hips, shaking her head like she regretted every life choice that led her to where she is today.
But I knew how much she loved them.
“She laughed, but the way her eyes softened when they met mine told me everything I needed to know — she wouldn’t trade this mess for anything.
We spentthe rest of the afternoon pretending we were normal people.
Jessa made lemonade and bossed the kids into picking up goat droppings around the yard. I tinkered with a tractor she swore had been broken since she moved here. Tornado kept trying to eat my tool bag.
Sunshine. Laughter. Even Aunt Marie sat on the porch with her iced tea, only yelling twice when the kids threatened to run through her vegetable patch.
For an hour, I let myself believe this was it. No missions. No bad men lurking in the shadows. No ghosts in the rearview.
Just home.
It wasWilla who snapped me out of it. She pulled up in her beat-up Jeep, windows down, hair in a knot, eyes sharp as a hawk’s.
She didn’t even sayhi. Just marched up to where I was tightening a bolt on the tractor.
“Hey Willa,” I said, slow and easy. “You here for the free lemonade or to lecture me about goats again?”
“Neither,” she said, voice low so the kids wouldn’t hear. “You got a minute?”
I caught the edge in her tone and my stomach went cold.
“Always.”
She glanced at Jessa, who was untangling Jill from a mess of rope near the porch. Then back at me.
“Nate asked me to come by. Word is, that mess you handled overseas? The one with the diplomat’s daughter? You stirred upa hornet’s nest, Rush. Somebody wants to know who helped the local cops pin it on the gang.”
I didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just felt the old switch flip in my brain — the one that meant I’d kill for the people behind me on this farm.
“Who’s asking?”
“Don’t know yet. But I know you. And I know you need to be ready.”
I nodded once, jaw tight. “I’m always ready.”
She smirked, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Good. Because I’m pretty sure they don’t like goats either.”
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