Page 15 of Fierce Hope
“Alright.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out a business card. “But if anything else happens—anything at all—you call me. Day or night. Promise?”
She took the card, careful not to let their fingers brush. “I promise.”
Another easy lie, but this one hurt more than the others.
He gave her one last searching look, frustration rolling off him in waves. Then he turned and strode out, his movements controlled but tense. Through the glass walls, she watched him cross the lobby. Becca and Lindsay definitely stared this time.
Jade’s fingers trembled as she looked down at his card. Simple black text on white cardstock. A phone number.
A promise of safety she couldn’t afford to accept.
She sank into one of the conference room chairs, the weight of what she’d just done settling over her like a shroud. She’d pushed away help—real help—because she was too afraid of her past coming to light.
But what if she was wrong? What if she’d just sent away the one person who could protect her?
Her father’s voice whispered in her memory:Trust no one.
But for the first time in twelve years, she wondered if that lesson might get her killed.
9
Deke grippedthe steering wheel of his truck, watching snowflakes drift onto the windshield before melting into oblivion. The gray sky pressed down like a tactical vest—heavy, constraining, yet somehow protective. He’d been sitting in KTP’s parking lot for five minutes, replaying his conversation with Jade.
Her careful smile. Her practiced deflections. The flash of fear in her eyes when he’d mentioned the police call.
She’d said it was nothing. She was lying.
He’d seen enough people try to hide trouble to recognize the signs. The question was: why? And why did her refusal to trust him feel like a personal blow?
Focus on the facts, Williams.
Fact one: Someone most likely had been in her condo last night.
Fact two: She was scared enough to be watching shadows.
Fact three: She’d rather face whatever threat existed than accept his help.
The last one stuck like a burr under his skin. In his line of work, people usually welcomed protection.
Unless they were hiding something worse than the threat itself.
He climbed out of the truck, snow crunching under his boots as he headed for the hangar. The massive sliding doors hummed open, releasing a burst of warm air that carried the familiar scents of aviation fuel and electronics.
The usual controlled chaos was oddly subdued. Half the team was out on a protection detail for a visiting diplomat, leaving the space feeling hollow. Near the break area, Zara sat hunched over her tablet, rubbing her temples in that way that meant her headaches were back. Kenji paced nearby, his usual easy grin replaced by a furrowed brow.
Deke considered retreating to his office. He wasn’t in the mood for?—
“Hey.” Izzy’s quiet voice caught him before he could escape. She emerged from the corridor leading to the communications hub. “Any news on Jade? Is she alright?”
The question hit like a round to the chest. Even Izzy was worried. Maybe he wasn’t overreacting. Maybe?—
He often wrestled with his natural inclination to handle things alone. But something—maybe divine guidance, maybe tactical sense—told him this wasn’t the time for silence. His team needed to know.
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” he said finally, letting down his guard just enough to share the burden.
His jaw worked as he weighed his options. The thought of investigating Jade without her permission sat like lead in his gut. But the image of her trying to hide her fear, of her shoulders tight with tension—that sat even worse.
“Look,” he finally said, his voice low. “Something’s not right. And yeah, maybe I’m overstepping. But ...”
