Page 19 of Fierce Hope
Deke’s words echoed in her mind:Let me help.
She’d been so quick to refuse, terrified that involving Knight Tactical might somehow expose her past. But what if she had it backward? If these threats stemmed from her current life—a vengeful client, church politics, something local—then letting professionals investigate might actually help keep her old secrets buried.
The thought crystallized into certainty: She would call Deke.
She’d keep her father’s identity and her former life locked away, but she’d let Deke help her look into these threats. Chances were it had to do with the present.
Squeaky clean Jade Villanueva of Hope Landing had nothing to hide.
Her hands continued to tremble as she loaded the last bag into her car. The parking lot suddenly felt exposed, vulnerable. She slid into the driver’s seat, started the engine, and checked her mirrors obsessively. No suspicious vehicles. No one watching.
But someone had been here. Someone was always watching.
The note in her pocket pulsed like a beacon as she drove home, each beat matching the rhythm of her resolve. She was done being a victim. Done living in fear.
Time to power up and fight back.
11
Deke scrubbedthe last pot from DJ’s attempts at making spaghetti, listening to the quiet of an empty house. Saturday youth group pizza night meant three blessed hours of teenage-free space, though he missed the kid more than he’d admit.
He was drying his hands when his phone buzzed on the counter. Probably DJ asking for extra pizza money or?—
His heart stuttered. Jade’s name glowed on the screen.
Jade: Hey, can we talk?
Four simple words that sent his pulse racing. He’d been thinking about her all week, wrestling with the urge to check on her, to drive by her condo, to do something. But he’d forced himself to keep his distance after she’d rejected his offer of help.
His thumbs hovered over the keyboard.Play it cool, Williams.He typed, deleted, typed again. Everything sounded either too eager or too detached.
Deke: Anytime. Where and when would you like to meet?
Jade: Is it okay if I come by your place in a few?
Deke nearly dropped the phone. He glanced around his living room—DJ’s ratty sneakers by the door, a half-empty Mountain Dew can on the coffee table, gaming controllers scattered like technological confetti.
Deke: Sure.
He typed in his address and hit send before he could overthink it.
Then panic set in.
He launched into motion, snatching up DJ’s abandoned socks—how did the kid leave socks everywhere?—stuffing them into the boy’s room and slamming the door. His own sweatshirt draped over the recliner went flying into the laundry room.
Halfway through arranging throw pillows—since when do I care about throw pillows?—he caught his reflection in the window. Checked his breath. Sniffed his t-shirt.
“Get it together,” he muttered. “She’s not coming for a date. She’s coming because something’s wrong.”
That sobering thought stopped him as he reached for the matches to light the fireplace. Right. Whatever had finally pushed Jade to reach out, it wasn’t his domestic skills.
Still, he straightened the pillows one last time. Just in case.
The doorbell’s chime sent him into another frenzy of last-minute adjustments. He swept DJ’s forgotten Xbox controller under a throw pillow, kicked a stray sneaker behind the couch, and blew on a hand to check his breath a second time.
Professional. Keep it professional.
But he held his breath as he opened the door.
