Page 5 of Stolen Hearts

“I think I’ll have the fruit cup instead.”

“Suit yourself.” Willow placed two dishes of pudding on her tray.

She slanted a smile at her friend. She was undeniably beautiful, but completely genuine. She was too sweet to dislike, even for her metabolism.

“You work your calories off on the ranch. My job is sedentary,” she reminded Willow as they walked out onto the patio and took a seat at one of the tables.

Willow sat with a sigh.

“That sounds like a sigh of relief. Anything you want to talk about?”

Willow’s gray eyes centered on her. “Do you ever stop being a therapist?”

She gave her a small smile of apology. “Sorry. It’s ingrained in me to pick up on everyone’s mood and body language.”

Willow bypassed the soup and went straight for the pudding. “I needed to get out of the house. There’sa lotof testosterone.”

“Ah. Security business?” Besides the veterans’ program and the cattle ranch, the Malones also ran a security business. They all proved to be very good at security, considering they were all ex-military.

Her stomach gave a little dip, and she found herself looking at Willow’s gray eyes a little too long.

“Yup. All my brothers are in the office, bickering like kids over a baseball bat.” She looked up at another woman moving their way with a tray.

Honor was one of the newer additions to the Malone crew, and she conducted art therapy with the vets, which meant she and Rhae crossed paths a lot.

Honor plunked into the seat across from Rhae and brushed a long wave of hair off her face. “I’m so glad you ladies are out here having lunch too. I need to steer clear of the house for a while.”

Rhae’s stomach performed that little dive once more. She didn’t have to ask why Honor and Willow needed space—she already knew.

The Malone men.

It wasn’t just about their towering frames or the way they moved through the world like they could bend it to their will. Or the way their guarded secrets were stitched into the fiber of their bones.

She swallowed a bite of food. “Sometimes a little distance is good.”

Honor laughed. “You sound like you have experience.”

She would keep her own counsel on the subject but offered her friend an easygoing smile. “You could say that.”

The wind freshened, bringing the scent of hay and the last of the summer wildflowers. Rhae let the silence linger, knowing all too well that some things were better left unspoken…at least for now.

* * * * *

Denver stared at the piles of disorganized files spread across the desk in the Black Heart Security office.

What a freakin’ mess. Stacks of manila folders tilted like tiny skyscrapers, threatening to collapse with one wrong move. Loose papers were scattered across the surface—incident reports, surveillance logs, equipment checklists—all jumbled together like someone had dumped out a puzzle and walked away.

He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, the tension there familiar and unyielding. Medical discharge was still fresh, biting like a winter wind.

He hadn’t told his family about why he left the military yet. They all noticed that he looked thinner, rougher around the edges, but who the hell wouldn’t after what he’d been through?

Luckily, nobody pushed. That was the beauty of coming back to his family and each sibling bearing their own scars—they knew better than to ask before he was ready.

His oldest brother Carson leaned back in his chair, one boot kicked up on the edge of the desk, inches from one of the file towers about to topple over. “Hell of a sight, huh?” He waved a hand at the clutter.

“Looks like a bomb went off.” Denver sifted through a stack of recon reports that didn’t seem to adhere to any system of organization. “You’ve really been running the security agency solo?”

“Mostly.”

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