Serving Trouble by Sara Jane Stone Read Free Book Online Page A

was on again. Had his father wandered out? Not likely. His old man had a hard time navigating the gravel separating the house from the barn with the walker the doctors had insisted he use after the fall. And they didn’t keep animals in there anymore. Too much work.
    The side door opened before he reached the structure and a familiar face peered out.
    â€œCaroline?” He stopped four feet from the barn and stared. “How the hell—­”
    â€œI had your address,” she said, her voice soft. Her mouth formed a thin line. Freckles dotted her nose, suggesting her fair skin had been exposed to the elements for a while. And her long dark hair, which he’d grown accustomed to being pulled back in a tight bun, now flowed loose around her shoulders. He didn’t know much about women’s hair, but he knew she needed a brush, and maybe a pair of scissors.
    She wore black pants, a baggy black T-­shirt, and combat boots. The clothes were three, maybe four sizes too large for her frame. Between Caroline’s height—­she stood roughly as tall as Josie—­and her delicate girl-­next-­door features, she’d always looked like she belonged in Disney World playing a fairy-­tale princess, not in the US Marine Corps.
    â€œSo you walked here from where?” he asked, focusing his sleep-­deprived brain. He moved closer to her, but stayed out of arm’s reach. He wanted to offer her the illusion of safety. He couldn’t make promises, but he doubted there were threats hiding in the barn. He’d been home for months and the only things he’d found were some old furniture, the mechanical bull, and memories.
    â€œI was staying with my sister in Northern California. But he found me,” she said.
    â€œDustin?” he asked.
    â€œYes. He showed up and threatened to turn me in.” Her tone was devoid of drama as if she expected to open the door and find her rapist on her doorstep.
    â€œDid he hurt you?” he asked, not that it would change a damn thing. If he saw their former commanding officer again nothing would hold him back. He wouldn’t wait for justice. He’d beat the crap out of Dustin.
    She shook her head. “He didn’t touch me. But he said he was planning to call the police.”
    And when they found her they’d hand her over to the military. She’d probably face jail time for her unauthorized absence. It wouldn’t matter that she’d run because she couldn’t face serving alongside men who’d fought at her side one minute, placing their lives in her hands, and threatened her the next. And if she had returned, serving with those men would be pure hell because she’d accused one of them—­their leader—­of rape. She’d gotten their commanding officer kicked out of the marines because she’d had a witness willing to testify.
    Him.
    â€œSo you ran,” he said.
    â€œI needed to find you,” she said. “Dustin’s pissed at me. But he blames you for losing his career. His wife left him and—­we should move inside.”
    Caroline scanned the house and the drive, showing a hint of fear for the first time. He knew his dad wouldn’t wake for a few hours. And he was familiar with the sounds—­cars speeding over the dirt road, the neighbor’s rooster, who operated on the assumption that it was always rise-­and-­shine time—­but she clearly viewed them as potential threats.
    â€œSure,” he said and followed her into the old, mostly empty barn. The hay bales had disappeared years ago, but otherwise the space looked pretty much the same. Old boxes, some tools, a rusted gate, and a collection of broken furniture that belonged in the dump.
    He left the door open behind them, allowing a beam of light to slip in and illuminate the mechanical bull in the corner surrounded by faded red, white, and blue cushions. His dad had thrown an old