The Eagle and the Fox (A Snowy Range Mystery, #1) by Nya Rawlyns

Janice wasn’t concerned about her daughter. If she makes a habit of disappearing for short periods, there’s maybe nothing to worry about. Right?”
    Josh didn’t bother to answer. They both knew, whatever habits young Petilune might have developed in order to cope with her situation at home, this time it was different. This time there was a gang of thugs roaming the area, getting into who knew what mischief.
    And then there was the matter of this Kit Golden Eagle who seemed to have fallen ass over teacups for Petilune like only a teenager could. Maybe. But what if it was something else entirely?
    Josh was getting a raging headache from trying to sort through all the possibilities. As it was, they were closing in on midnight and he still had a ten mile haul to get home. He pulled behind the store and parked next to his truck. Tossing the keys to Marcus, he trudged over to his own vehicle and yanked open the creaky door, the sound like nails on a blackboard.
    A tiny screech nearly gave him a heart attack. A thin voice, rocky with sleep murmured, “Kit?”
    Marcus cried, “Sweet Jesus, Petilune! What the hell are you doing in Josh’s truck?”
    That set off waterworks as the youngster curled into a fetal position on the back seat, her frail body rocking back and forth.
    “Christ, Marcus, what do we do now?”
    “Fuck if I know. She can’t stay here, obviously.” Marcus pulled the door wide open. “Let’s get her upstairs. We’ll figure something out once we get her settled.”
    Josh gently pried the girl sticking like a leech to the back seat out of the truck and handed her to Marcus. He was too unsteady on his leg to risk carting a child up those uneven steps. When he reached into the truck, he lifted the rear seat and withdrew his hunting rifle and scope. Under the soft leather pouch, he fumbled with the latch on a small wooden box. Inside he found his old 500 S&W. He tucked it into the waistband of his jeans, then grabbed a box of shells and shoved that into his pocket. With a rueful grin, he locked his doors.
    Nothing like locking the barn door after the horse escapes.
    He hated calling his sister in the middle of the night to ask her to check the horses in the morning. They weren’t grained until evening so it was just a matter of counting noses and making sure one of them hadn’t decided to commit hari kari on a fence post. Other than that he had a free day.
    As for tonight, there was no way he was leaving the girl and Marcus unattended. Though everything seemed dead quiet and serene, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He felt like he was being watched. And his instincts had never played him false.
    Except for that one time...
    He hit speed dial and prepared to eat humble pie.

Chapter Seven
Pulling Teeth
    ––––––––
    M arcus looked askance at the change in Josh. The rifle slung over one shoulder, the revolver casually stuffed in the waistband of his jeans, the way his posture had straightened, eyes flashing blue fire... When he’d entered the loft, the man had sucked all the air out of the space ... and out of Marcus’ lungs.
    Someone he knew as friend now scared the crap out of him, but in an unexpected way. He had to turn away, busy himself to seeing that Petilune rested comfortably on the couch, instead of jumping the warrior standing at attention at the door.
    God, he looks hot. Capable. Really, really fucking capable...
    Whoever, or whatever, had thrown a switch in Josh’s head had activated the combat veteran. The man was ice and granite, an immovable object and a force field. A warrior protecting his own.
    The teakettle shrilled. He and Petilune jumped a foot. Josh twitched. It was good to know there was still a vulnerable man under that stern exterior. A man currently armed to the teeth. A man with PTSD and the remnants of a time he’d probably rather forget but never could. Every halting step he took, every time he went for normal but got caught with the short end of the