Page 41 of Ranger Devotion

Brooke had a point. Annie had called out to Seth several times, and he’d refused to stop.

“The important thing to do now,” Tate said, “is to figure out if Marcus is truly behind this, and if so, stop him. After that day on your porch, did you ever hear from him again?”

Evan shook his head. “No. He seemed…irritated by the fact that I kept saying Seth’s death was an accident. I figured he was grieving and trying to sort out his own emotions—maybe his own guilt—and needed someone to blame.”

“His own guilt?” Tate straightened. “What do you mean by that?”

“He was deployed when Seth died, and I got the sense he blamed himself for not being there. Right after their dad went to prison, Marcus joined the Army. Seth and his mom moved to Oakwood. Seth struggled because it felt like his family had been blown apart. Plus, he had to keep what’d happened with his dad a secret. His mom didn’t want anyone to know. She was worried they’d judge them.” Evan exhaled. “She was right.”

“So Seth and his brother were close?”

“Very.”

Caleb had said the same. Good to have confirmation. “Do you know what his dad is in prison for?”

“He killed someone while driving drunk. It was his second DUI, so the prosecutor pushed for a long sentence.”

Not murder then. Tate chalked it up to a misunderstanding. Civilians often blurred murder and manslaughter. The crime was horrible and worthy of a prison sentence, but it wasn’t violent. Maybe Seth’s dad wasn’t involved.

Tate kept his attention on Evan, but his tone was casual. “Caleb mentioned Marcus came to see him too. Did you know about that?”

Evan and Brooke both looked surprised. Evan shook his head. “No.”

“Do you know if he spoke to other people in the group?”

“Not that I know of.” Evan looked to Brooke for help.

She frowned. “I never heard a whisper about Marcus visiting anyone, and I’m pretty plugged into the group.” Brooke paused. “Then again, Seth is a touchy subject for all of us. I never mentioned Marcus’s visit to anyone apart from my mom.”

“Do you know anything about Marcus’s military service? What did he do for the Army?”

“He was a Green Beret.” Evan had returned to drumming against his mug.

Green Berets were the Army’s elite. That also matched what Caleb had told them. Tate’s thoughts moved fast. Could Marcus be working as a staff member in disguise? Possibly. But it was more likely that he’d holed up somewhere on the property, coming out only to attack. Someone had raided the mess hall pantry, likely for supplies, and for a man used to operating in hostile conditions, the storm wouldn’t be a hindrance. But how did he know their movements? Their phone numbers? Someone had to be feeding him information.

Again, he was back at the two-killer theory. Tate flexed his fingers, the move pulling on his stitches. “Seth’s dad, do you know his first name? Or where he was in prison?”

Evan paused in his drumming to take a sip of his coffee. “No. Sorry. Seth never told me. Like I said, he didn’t talk about it much.”

Frustrating. A name would go a long way toward tracking the man down and ensuring he was still in prison. Chances were it was a dead end, anyway. If Marcus was behind these attacks, then his accomplice was likely someone in their group.

And so far, Tate hadn’t been able to eliminate any of his suspects. Not even Evan. His gut told him his old friend was innocent, but he couldn’t afford to rely solely on his instincts. He needed evidence. Facts. And right now, he had neither.

“Can you even be sure someone in Seth’s family is behind this?” Brooke asked, her gaze shifting between Tate and Annie.

“No.” Tate’s hand throbbed harder. “But whoever attacked me was trained in hand-to-hand combat and knew what he was doing with both a gun and a knife. It’s possible we’re looking for a well-prepared civilian, but not likely. Marcus is a Green Beret, and he questioned at least two people in this group about Seth’s death. Maybe others as well. Additionally, the killer has made it clear he’s looking to get revenge. Marcus has both the knowledge and the motive⁠—”

A sharp crack came from outside.

Darkness swallowed the dining room. Somewhere behind Tate, glass exploded. Icy wind howled through the broken window, carrying rain and the roar of the storm inside. He moved on instinct, hooking an arm around Annie’s waist and taking her to the floor beneath the table. “Down! Everybody down!”

Screams tore through the dark.

TWENTY

Annie’s heart slammed against her ribs. Tate’s body curved over hers, his arms a shield against the frigid air pouring through the broken window. The darkness was absolute. She couldn’t see him an inch away, could only feel the solid weight of him, the tension humming through his frame. Somewhere in the dark, people were screaming.

His arm shifted. Reaching for his weapon. She freed her own, then gripped his sleeve before he could rise. “Wait.”