Page 68 of Relentless Hearts
Decker circled the vehicle to stand next to Willow, and she noted how carefully he was watching Cal’s face, reading micro-expressions she couldn’t begin to interpret.
“Sorry if I’m a bit cranky.” Cal rubbed at his thigh. “Leg’s hurting today. Weather change always gets me.”
“Prosthetics aren’t the easiest to fit.” Decker’s tone was neutral but not unfriendly. “I’ve heard it can be rough.”
He extended his hand for a shake, and something in Cal’s expression shifted—recognition maybe, or respect.
“You’re a vet? What branch were you in?” Decker asked.
“Marine Corps. Started out with a rifle platoon, 2/8 down at Lejeune.” Cal’s face brightened slightly. “Spent more time cleaning sand out of my boots than anything else.”
Decker’s mouth quirked in what might have been a smile. “Sounds about right.”
“You?”
“My first platoon was with 1/7 Bravo. Good men. Some of the best.” His voice dropped. “Not all of us made it back.”
The shared understanding between them was palpable, and Willow felt like an outsider witnessing something she couldn’t fully grasp. The brotherhood of service, the weight of losses that civilians would never understand.
Cal directed his attention to Willow. “We don’t have that specialty feed you ordered. Should be in soon. We’ll give you a call when it comes in.”
“Sounds good.” Willow moved to climb into the truck. “Thanks for getting this ready for us.”
They were pulling out of the parking lot when Decker’s voice cut through her thoughts. “Stop right here.”
She hit the brakes, confused. “What?”
“Back up a little. Slowly.”
She did as he asked, watching him lean forward to look at something. “What are you looking at?”
“License plates.”
“What for?”
His jaw was tight, his eyes tracking over every vehicle in the lot. “It’s my job.”
The words sent a chill down her spine. This wasn’t casual observation. This was Decker in full protection mode. Cataloging details.
Looking for threats.
She glanced in the rearview to see Cal standing there, staring at the truck.
* * * * *
Decker sat at the desk in the security office, three monitors glowing in front of him while he flipped over every stone he could find on the guy from the feed store.
Willow had dropped Navy off with Juliette for the next babysitting shift so she could work with Crew on horse therapy—leaving Decker free to chase the nagging feeling that had been chewing at him ever since they’d left Willowbrook Feed and Seed. But finding information on “Cal” was proving harder than it should be.
The guy had looked at Willow a certain way—not overtly threatening. Not even inappropriate by most standards. But something about it had set off every alarm bell Decker’s sixth sense possessed.
It was the kind of look that lingered a beat too long, that held too much familiarity for someone who should have been a casual acquaintance at best.
He pulled up the Willowbrook Feed and Seed website first. After flipping through pages of products, the hours of operation and a basic map of the store, he hit a dead end.
There was no employee directory or staff photos that would help him identify who Cal actually was beyond a name tag that could have saidanything. After all, it wasn’t unheard of for employees to go by nicknames.
The window rattled, and he glanced up. The wind had kicked up since they returned to the ranch, blowing in a front that would surely cover the ranch in a foot of snow.
