SWORN TO PROTECT: An Everyday Heroes World Novel

by Readnour, Kimberly

  SWORN TO PROTECT

  An Everyday Heroes World Novel

  Kimberly Readnour

  Contents

  Introduction

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Epilogue

  KB WORLDS

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  ALSO BY KIMBERLY READNOUR

  ALSO WRITTEN BY K. BROMBERG

  COPYRIGHT PAGE

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead are entirely coincidental.

  © 2020 JKB PUBLISHING, LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people.

  Published by JKB Publishing, LLC.

  Cover Design by: Tugboat Design, LLC

  Cover Image by: Paul Henry Serres Photography

  Editing by: Missy Borucki

  Proofreading by: Virginia Tesi Carey & Kaitie Reister

  Formatting by: Kimberly Readnour

  Published in the United States of America

  Created with Vellum

  Introduction

  Dear Reader,

  Welcome to the Everyday Heroes World!

  I’m so excited you’ve picked up this book! Sworn to Protect is a book based on the world I created in my USA Today bestselling Everyday Heroes Series. While I may be finished writing this series (for now), various authors have signed on to keep them going. They will be bringing you all-new stories in the world you know while allowing you to revisit the characters you love.

  This book is entirely the work of the author who wrote it. While I allowed them to use the world I created and may have assisted in some of the plotting, I took no part in the writing or editing of the story. All praise can be directed their way.

  I truly hope you enjoy Sworn to Protect. If you’re interested in finding more authors who have written in the KB Worlds, you can visit www.kbworlds.com.

  Thank you for supporting the writers in this project and me.

  Happy Reading,

  K. Bromberg

  Chapter One

  Nate

  It seems my therapist was right after all. I am crazy.

  Okay, so the doctor didn’t use that exact word to describe me, but my psychoanalysis meter registers at out-of-my-freaking-mind. What other explanation would there be for trucking my ass across the country to help a woman who doesn’t know me from Adam, and after she finds out who I am, she won’t want anything to do with me? If those actions don’t scream insanity, I don’t know what would.

  I drive along the lonely stretch of highway. California’s mid-afternoon rays beam through the massive F250’s windshield and manage to worsen the already unpleasant trip. Window tinting would come in handy about now. Anything to reduce this heat.

  Frustration sets in. I flip the visor down and glance at the GPS. Two hours left before reaching my destination—Sunnyville, California. Getting there can’t come soon enough. Not that I care about the town, but a lukewarm shower and a decent bed have my name written all over them. It’s been a long three days preceded by a longer three months.

  I adjust the air conditioner vents for the umpteenth time, but semi-cool air greets me. Great. No wonder I’m baking in this heat. Sunnyville better have a good mechanic shop. I don’t want to be stuck in that town any longer than necessary.

  My stomach rolls.

  We all know it won’t be my truck’s faulty air-conditioning confining me to a town I don’t know anything about. Not in the least. These chains aren’t the tangible kind, but they’re every bit as constricting—emotional bondage at its finest.

  Unable to withstand the heat any longer, I unbuckle the seat belt and tug my shirt over my head, questioning again why the hell I’m even here.

  Deep down, I know.

  The reason—fulfilling last wishes while wiping my slate clean—echoes like a haunted curse in my head.

  But, no matter how hard I scrub my hands, those red stains refuse to disappear. The etching of my sins forever tarnishing my soul. My mistakes. My poor judgment.

  I wipe the damp shirt across my brow and don’t replace the seat belt. Why bother? No one cares either way. I could crash through the windshield, and not one family member would mourn. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the story of my life summarized by a few depressing thoughts. I’m destined to be alone, and that’s how I prefer it.

  I continue driving, begrudging myself of the beautiful mountainous backdrop, and stewing over another mistake. The somber mood hangs with me until the GPS registers one hour remaining. I blow out a breath and stretch my neck. The lengthy road trip weighs on me.

  “Whoa, what do we have here?” I cancel the cruise control at the sight of a vehicle parked along the highway and flick my gaze to the rearview mirror. With nothing behind me except the open road, I pump the brakes and pull over to the roadside, fully appreciating the woman bent over, inspecting her tire. Her ass sticking straight up is a thing of beauty. I let out a curse and chastise myself. The last thing I should do is ogle a female in distress. Jesus, what is wrong with me? I feel like a teenage boy discovering his perverted uncle’s stash of Hustler magazines for the first time. I usually have more restraint than this. I blame this long-ass haul coupled with too many offers I’ve turned down lately.

  AKA, it’s been too long.

  As the truck comes to a halt, the woman in question lifts and spins too fast. That fine ass of hers lands on the ground. Her oomph carries through the cab, and I climb out of the truck quicker than a recruit trying to impress a sergeant during the first rounds of physical fitness testing.

  “Sorry, ma’am. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  The lady jerks her head up and shakes it back and forth as her hands make the stop motion. I freeze in my tracks. My intent isn’t to scare her, but she clearly needs help.

  “I don’t need help,” she says as if reading my mind. “I’ve called the towing company. They should be here any second.”

  My gaze fli
cks to the highway, noting the vast open space—nothing but miles of asphalt in sight. The low hum of her car’s engine competes with the motor of my truck. Yeah, that towing company won’t be here anytime soon. I take another step, but all forward progression stops when I shift my focus back on her. Hell, I think I stop breathing.

  Holy shit.

  Long auburn curls fall just above the swell of her breasts, and she stares back at me with a pair of bright green eyes I’d recognize anywhere. They’re the same ones that stared back at me whenever I entered my best friend’s barrack.

  It’s her.

  Mackenzie Gillman.

  The woman I’ve sworn to protect.

  I swallow past the sudden lump in my throat and sneak a peek at the two kids in the car. The older one stares out the back window, hands gripped to the headrest, while the youngest strains to see around his car seat. Mackenzie scurries to her feet and brushes the backside of her very short, very sexy, denim shorts. I take another step forward, but she skitters backward, clearly afraid.

  “Don’t take another step. I have a gun.”

  My eyebrows shoot up as I stop my forward movement. Those tight little shorts aren’t packing anything, unlike me, but my Glock rests in the passenger seat of my pickup. Besides, I already checked out her backside to know she isn’t wielding a holster. My eyes trace along those long legs down to her feet. The only strap wrapped around her ankle is from her sandals. “Unless you’re packing in your bra, I highly doubt it. I assure you, I’m only here to help.”

  She tosses her shoulders back in defiance and straightens her spine. “I assure you I can shoot you point-blank.”

  “I do not doubt your skills, ma’am. I just stopped to see if I could help you out.”

  She eyes my shirtless chest, lingering on my abs—a look of appreciation flashes in those widening eyes. I squash the lightness in my chest her silent approval gives. She is the last person I should lust over. Vice versa.

  “I’m fine. As I said, I’ve got it covered.” Her voice comes out low and gravelly. She clears her throat as if agitated with herself.

  I fight back a smile, but she’s half crocked if she thinks I’m abandoning her an hour away from civilization. I wouldn’t put anyone in that situation, let alone the family I’m supposed to protect.

  “There’s no way in hell I’m leaving you alone on the freeway with two kids in your car. I can go back to my truck and wait if that makes you more comfortable. Or I can be of some use and look at your tire.”

  Indecision wars in her eyes. She glances back at the two boys, and the wince that falls from her lips tightens my chest.

  “My name’s Nate Dixon, by the way.” Maybe I should’ve led with introductions first?

  “Mackenzie Gillman.”

  “Well, Mackenzie, can I look at your tire now?”

  “Fine, but can you at least put on a shirt? Who drives around topless?”

  I chuckle and turn away. “Someone hot, that’s who.”

  I swear I hear a low mm-hmm as I retrace my steps to the truck and grab my shirt. Fully clothed, I walk over to her and bend down to inspect the tire. I grind my teeth to stop from cursing when I spot the crater in the sidewall. It doesn’t take an Einstein to figure out the reason for the blowout. The tire tread is completely bald. Glancing at the front wheel fuels my anger when I find it in the same condition. Why hadn’t you replaced these tires, Ethan? I know we deployed for a long time, but these tires needed replacing long before now.

  “The tire blew, and the others don’t have much life to them. When was the last time you had these changed?” I keep my tone even, but damn it, Ethan should’ve taken care of this.

  “My husband was supposed to get new ones last year. I’ve been busy and forgot.”

  My heart squeezes. Her husband. A little over a year ago, Ethan was between deployments. He had ample enough time then to take the car in. “He should’ve made it a top priority.”

  “He should’ve done a lot of things,” she mumbles.

  I let her comment roll off my back and concentrate on the heap of rubber. “You can call off the tow truck. I can change this for you. I just need your spare tire.”

  “Oh, this is what I have.” Mackenzie darts to the trunk and returns holding a spray can of Fix-a-flat.

  I just stare at it. “This is all the car came with?”

  Her lips press together as she nods.

  “What the hell am I supposed to do with that?”

  She gives the cutest shrug, and her shirt slips off her shoulder, exposing her pale smooth skin peppered with freckles. Fuck me. I force myself to focus on the useless can in her hand. The last thing I need to think about is how cute her shoulders are.

  “At the very least, you surely have a donut tire.”

  “Nope, just this.” She gives me a matter of fact look.

  I glance at the crater. “That isn’t going to fix shit.”

  “Welcome to modern-day corporate greed.”

  I shake my head and stalk over to the trunk. Surely, she missed the hidden compartment. All cars come with some type of spare tire. Don’t they? When my search comes up empty, she gives another shrug and tosses the can back into the trunk.

  “I tried telling you.”

  “I can’t believe this. When did manufacturers stop putting spare tires in cars?”

  “Not sure.”

  “Shouldn’t that towing company be here by now?”

  She averts her gaze. The relentless afternoon sun cascades around us like a blanket of fire, but the heat pales in comparison to the guilt flaming her cheeks. “I, uh, don’t have cell service.”

  “You said you called them.”

  “I lied.”

  My lips twitch. One thing Ethan forgot to tell me was how spunky Mackenzie could be. Though, he covered the stubborn part well. “Let me see if I have service.” I go back to the truck and pull out my phone. The three bars and illuminated LTE has me raising my eyes toward the heavens, thankful for something working out. “I have cell service.”

  “Thank God. I’m not sure what we would’ve done otherwise.”

  I would’ve had them pile into my truck while we drove to town is what would’ve happened, but I have enough sense not to say that out loud. Instead, I do a quick search for towing companies and dial the one with the highest ratings—Tatman’s Towing.

  I pass her the phone and after verifying a truck heading in our direction and informing them where to tow her vehicle, she shoots those expressive eyes full of vigor and grit my way. “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. I’m sure you were heading somewhere.”

  I hold her gaze for a moment, lost in their sincerity. Her husband and I had been friends since he joined our unit three years ago. Ethan joked how he didn’t have too many. He said not many people could handle his awesomeness. I hated to break it to him, but it was more along the lines of arrogance. But I got where he came from. We bonded. Our friendship was born out of solidarity from belonging to the loners’ club. He opened up about his marriage. But the woman standing before me is nothing like the wife he’d described.

  “I’m not going anywhere until you’re safe. We should order you a Lyft to take you and the boys to the repair shop.”

  The corners of her mouth lift to a small grin. “Appreciate it.”

  “Just doing my job.”

  Her eyebrows furrow. “Where are you heading to?”

  I feel my face harden. It’s not as if the location is a secret, but her needing roadside assistance has thrown me off my game. After a beat, I reply, “Sunnyville.”

  “You’re not originally from there, are you? I don’t recognize the name.”

  “No.” My response is clipped. When her mouth opens to speak, I cut her off. We don’t need to play the twenty-one questions game. “Do your kids need any water?”

  “Oh, I better check.” She shakes her head as she beelines to them. Next, she opens her driver’s side door and before climbing inside, she says, “We’re
good.” And she doesn’t emerge until the towing company arrives. Out of respect, or maybe for my own good, I stand beside my truck, still in shock over finding her so easily, until the tow truck pulls away, followed by the Lyft that arrived to transport Mackenzie and the boys. But I have a funny feeling that things just went from manageable to complex.

  Chapter Two

  Mackenzie

  The door ding chimes overhead in the quaint coffee shop, but I don’t look up. I focus on wiping down the counter. The early morning rush has passed, but I need to prepare for the lunch crowd. Not that we get an overwhelming horde of people here in Sunnyville, but Better Buzz is the go-to spot for your morning and afternoon jolt of caffeine. I never realized how busy this café gets. And this former stay-at-home mother has to admit working here was an adjustment. But no worries. I have the job down pat now. I think.

  “Oh, my. That hottie must be the new guy in town.” Jill’s voice cuts through my thoughts. If my old high school friend’s tone is anything to go by, he must look as delicious as the pastries tucked inside the display case.

  Lifting my gaze to the man in question, I almost drop the rag. His back is to us as he stands by the newspaper rack and flips through the magazines. I may not be able to see his face, but I’d recognize that build anywhere. Tall, muscular frame. Broad shoulders that hint at a tattoo that, from memory, extends past his left biceps. Dark, buzzed-cut hair with enough length on top to run fingers through. And a tight ass that looks rather tasty in those black jogging pants. Yeah, the new guy is none other than my rescuer, Nate Dixon.