Page 11 of Stolen Hearts

Rhae.

When his medical discharge came down the line, she’d been the first person he wanted to talk to. Hell, she was theonlyperson he wanted to see. But she’d vanished.

He’d looked for her, called in every favor he had, but it was as if she’d evaporated the second he’d left her in that hotel room. His hands curled into fists at the memory.

The office was too damn quiet. The kind of quiet that let thoughts creep in—thoughts of the way he left Charlie team. How he’d been discharged halfway through a mission to find a terrorist called Cypher.

Fuck. He’d fought the order to leave the team. He raised hell, banged on his commanding officer’s door, but some of the guys told him straight. There wasn’t a damn thing he could do. Theseries of head injuries had become an issue. Regulations were regulations. No amount of stubbornness would change the fact that he couldn’t run missions anymore.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t want to.

The cursor blinked back at him, taunting. He could search again. Just one more sweep of the records. But he knew where that led—another dead end.

He batted the lid of the laptop closed with a snap and pushed back from the desk, the legs of his chair scraping loudly against the wooden floor.

Rhae wasn’t the only thing bothering him. He felt lost as hell these days.

Charlie team had promised to keep in touch.

Even though heknewthey couldn’t—national security and all that—damn if it didn’t leave a hole in him wider than the Wyoming sky.

He ran a hand through his hair and grabbed his jacket, pulling it on as he strode out of the house. The ranch stretched out before him, endless fields and towering pines, the smell of earth and leather thick in the air. He needed to move, to do something. Anything to drown out the silence.

His feet carried him toward the therapy office before his brain had caught up.

He just had tosee.But if it was really Rhae—hisRhae—what would he do?

He stopped just outside the door, heart hammering in his chest. What the hell was he doing here?

If it wasn’t her, all the better. He could use someone to talk to. Hell, he hadn’t talked to anyone about anything real since his discharge.

Still, his hand rested on the doorknob, and before he could think better of it, he twisted and pushed inside.

The room was empty. He blinked at the neat sofa and chairs, the stacks of magazines, the smell of wildflowers hanging faintly in the air. He was about to back out when he turned and nearly ran straight into Willow.

“Looking for someone?” she asked, one brow arching.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, I was gonna introduce myself to the therapist. Guess she stepped out.”

Willow’s eyes lit up with understanding. “Rhae? She’s with Oaks over at the barn. I can take you if you want.”

Rhae. His chest tightened.

“Rhae?” he echoed as if he hadn’t heard the name already.

Rhae, here on the Black Heart…and in his damn dreams.

“Yeah,” Willow said, already turning toward the exit. “Come on.”

He followed, legs moving on autopilot. The name rang in his ears, louder than the constant hum left by several concussions, rattling around with the memories he’d buried. It couldn’t be her. Rhae was…well, Rhae was gone. But hope was a wicked thing, and it clawed its way up his throat regardless.

They reached the barn, sunlight streaking across the fields, dappling the dirt in patches of gold. Willow pushed open the heavy wooden door, and he followed her inside.

He saw Oaks first, his broad-shouldered brother brushing down one of the horses, laughing at something just out of sight.

Then she stepped into view. Her back was to him, light brown hair spilling down her shoulders as she reached up to stroke the horse’s mane. She was laughing, the sound light and musical, and it hit him like a punch to the gut. He would know that laugh anywhere. Christ, he’d dreamed about it.

“Rhae!” Willow called out cheerfully.

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