Chapter Two
Lincoln Rawlings rolled his head around his neck. The popping sounds of the tendons there set his nerves on high alert. Gunfire had been a constant siren call in his living quarters for years, never allowing him to fully relax where he lay his head.
For a second, his brain fogged, casting his mind back into the dark cloud of battle. Head on a swivel was a common phrase in the military that meant stay alert, danger was ever-present. But looking out at the Montana sky, he knew no danger was present. The Purple Heart Ranch was one of the safest places in the world, especially when it came to Wounded Warriors like him.
He didn't have to stay alert. He didn't have to stay on guard. The only conflict existed within him.
Linc tilted his head back. He let the tendons snap, crackle,
