Page 69 of Rescuing Ally: Part 1

Gabe chuckles, setting his mug down. “Alright, let’s see…” He leans back, arms crossing. “Only child. My parents live in North Carolina. Dad’s retired Navy. Mom runs a bakery.”

I blink. “A bakery?”

He smirks. “Yep. Mom’s the real boss in the family. Do not mess with her cinnamon rolls.”

“Shame she didn’t teach her son how to cook,” Hank says with an exaggerated cough.

I tilt my head. “Does she know you’re out here playing hostage rescue and…” I hesitate, feeling my cheeks warm. “… about your other interests?”

Hank snorts.

Gabe grins, his eyes darkening slightly. “She knows I work in security and hostage rescue. Doesn’t ask too many questions about my personal life.” He shrugs. “She found some of my equipment once. Wasn’t thrilled, but accepts it’s part of who I am. We have an unspoken understanding.”

“And she knows about… ” I gesture vaguely between the men.

“That we share partners? Yeah.” Gabe’s voice is casual, but there’s a hint of challenge in his eyes. “We don’t hide who we are from family. Not anymore.”

Something catches in my chest at his casual reference to the intensity between us. I turn to Hank, seeking safer ground.

“And you? What’s your story?”

His smirk fades, something harder settling over his features. “Dad’s a drunk. Beat up my mom for years.”

“I’m sorry,” I say automatically, surprised by the blunt admission.

Hank shakes his head. “Don’t be. The day I turned fourteen, I went head to toe with my old man.” His jaw tightens. “He came home raging drunk, fists already swinging. Mom had a split lip, and something just…” He makes a snapping motion with his hands. “Something broke inside me.”

“You were a kid,” I say softly, trying to imagine a teenage Hank standing up to a grown man.

“I was big for my age. I had been working out,getting stronger, knowing I’d need to step up someday.” His eyes meet mine, unflinching. “Sent him to the ER with a broken jaw, three cracked ribs, and a shattered hand. Never seen him since.”

“My God,” I whisper, stunned by the raw honesty.

“My mom’s a saint,” Hank continues, his voice softening. “She rebuilt her life. Got her degree. She’s a social worker now, helping other women get out.” Pride illuminates his face. “And yeah, she knows about our arrangement. She’s actually more comfortable with it than Gabe’s mom. Says as long as everyone’s consenting and treated with respect, it’s none of her business.”

I study him with new eyes, seeing the protective core that defines him. The boy who defended his mother has become the man who rescues hostages, who swept in to save me. Something warm unfurls in my chest.

“You’ve been protecting people your whole life,” I say quietly.

His eyes meet mine, something vulnerable flashing there before he covers it with a half-smile. “Someone’s got to.”

I let the weight of their revelations sit between us momentarily before shifting gears. “So, Guardian HRS. How’d that happen? I’m guessing there’s a story there, too.”

Gabe exchanges a look with Hank. “Military was the natural next step for both of us.”

“Navy,” Hank adds. “Like Gabe’s dad, though for different reasons. I needed the discipline, the structure.”

“And we both ended up in BUD/S—that’s Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL training,” Gabe explains. “Most brutal six months of your life. That’s where we met.”

“We were in different classes initially,” Hank continues. “But ended up on the same SEAL team eventually. Deployed together for eight years.”

“You two were SEALs?” I’m impressed but not surprised. It fits the quiet competence they both exude.

Gabe nods. “We saw some things. Did some things. Eventually decided we wanted more control over our missions. Military’s great for some. But we wanted to build something of our own.”

Hank steals a piece of my bacon. “We got tired of working for a government that didn’t give a damn.”

Gabe nods. “Left the military. Did some private contract work. Heard about Guardian HRS, applied, got in. Been with Charlie team ever since.”

---