0373447477 (R) by Shirlee McCoy

intimate, but he wanted to know. That surprised him. He’d spent the past few years going from one mission to another. He hadn’t spent a lot of time getting to know the people he was rescuing. He hadn’t thought it was necessary.
    His grandfather would have corrected that assumption. He’d have said that investing in other people’s lives was always important, getting to know them always mattered.
    The thing was, there was a lot more to living than completing missions. Malone had always known that, but the last few years, he’d lost sight of the truth.
    That’s what the life he’d been living had done to him. It had turned him into someone who only asked questions when it was necessary. It had changed him into a person who didn’t know a whole lot about small talk or normal life.
    Or maybe his military experience had done that. Losing his buddies, watching them die while he survived, had made him crave escape like other people craved ice cream. He took mission after mission because of that, assignment after assignment to keep himself from thinking about it too much.
    A month ago, Chance had told him he was going to reach the finish line full speed, look back and realize that he’d been sprinting through a million blessings that he’d never even noticed.
    That’s what the vacation had been about—seeing the blessings instead of just the racetrack.
    “I think that’s it,” August said, gesturing to an old house that stood at the back edge of open land, a huge decaying barn a few acres behind it. White clapboard siding stained gray with age, boarded-up windows, dry tangled grass: the place looked as if it had been abandoned decades ago. A crumbling driveway had once cut through the front yard. Now it was overgrown with withered dandelion stems and sharp-bladed brown grass.
    August turned onto it, the bumping jolt of going from pavement to grass waking Quinn. She straightened, her cheeks still pink from sleep, her hair falling wild around her face.
    “Please,” she muttered, “tell me that I wasn’t sleeping on your shoulder.”
    “I’d like to, but it would be a lie.”
    “Great. Perfect. Another thing to add to my list.”
    “What list?”
    “Things that have made this day stink. I’m keeping it right next to my list of things that made my day great.”
    “You have a list of things that made your day great?”
    “Of course.”
    “Maybe I should rephrase that—you actually have things that made today great?”
    “I saw my brother for the first time in a couple years. I met some interesting people who seem determined to help me with a problem. I also... Actually, that may be it. I’d probably have more, but I’ve been a little distracted running for my life.”
    “A little?”
    “A lot. Where are we, by the way?”
    “Central Pennsylvania.”
    “At a house that looks like it’s been abandoned. I’m assuming there’s a reason for that. Other than we need to make a pit stop.”
    “Your brother needed medical attention,” Chance offered. “We’re pulling over to make sure he gets it.”
    “Pulling over at a hospital might be a better idea.” She leaned over the seat and pulled up her brother’s sleeve, revealing a deep gouge in his bicep, the wound seeping blood. “You’re going to need stitches.”
    “It’s not on my schedule for the day.”
    “Is a raging infection on your schedule for tomorrow?”
    “No infection would dare show its face after Stella dressed a cut,” Malone interrupted. “She’s a former military nurse. She knows how to triage a wound.”
    She also knew how to show up where she was supposed to be, and she should be on the property. Malone didn’t see any sign of Quinn’s Jeep. “Has she texted you again, Chance?”
    “The last text said she didn’t know why we were taking so long.”
    “Sounds like Stella.”
    “Yeah, but this isn’t like her. She should be here.” Chance scanned the area. “Can you drive this around to the back of the