Page 47 of Deadly Force

I nod. Not sure if I trust myself to speak. My heart is fluttering wildly in my chest.

His jaw flexes once. "I'd tell her Christ shines through you."

I’m so stunned I just gape at him. Utterly bewildered.

No one has ever said anything like that to me.Ever. In all my years of trying to live right, of stumbling and failing and getting back up—no one has looked at me and seenJesus.

"Caleb, I don't deserve—" I swallow hard.

I know I shouldn't, but my feet move anyway. Slowly, I rise from the chair, my stomach flipping, my pulse climbing with every step. He's leaning against the desk, arms crossed, and I have to step into his space to get close enough. The boldness of it makes my heart race. He smells incredible. Like sandalwood mixed with gun oil.

It probably breaks every rule in the book, but I push up onto my tiptoes and press a kiss to his cheek. Soft. Brief. My lips burn against his skin.

I pull back just enough to meet his eyes. "That’s the best compliment anyone has ever paid me," I whisper.

His gaze searches mine, intense, unwavering. "We're going to catch him, Brooke," he says quietly. "And I'm not leaving Tucson until we do."

ELEVEN

Caleb

I move to the kitchenette and flip on the ancient coffee maker, more to put distance between us than out of any real need for caffeine.

The tension is getting to me.She’sgetting to me. That sweet little kiss didn’t help, not when I’m already struggling to keep my head in the game.

“Coffee?”

She glances over, a small smile tugging at her lips. "If you're looking for a distraction, you could always tell me about yourself."

I lean back against the counter, watching her. "That your strategy? Wear me down with flattery?"

She arches a brow. "It's how I get all my best sources talking."

The corner of my mouth lifts. She's good at that. Getting past defenses. It's probably why Eliza trustedher. Why I trust her now. That, and the fact that she called me charming.

"Where were you stationed?" she asks.

I cross my arms loosely. "Most of my ops were in Central and South America."

Her brows lift. "Like cartel stuff?"

"Sometimes. Counter-narcotics. Counter-insurgency. Hostage extractions. Mostly jungle terrain." I pause, considering how much to share. "We trained local forces, tracked high-value targets, gathered intel. Think of it as summer camp, but with more guns and fewer s'mores."

She's quiet for a beat. "That sounds... intense."

I smile without humor. "It was. Spend enough time in that heat with men carrying grudges and AKs, you learn what you're made of." And what breaks you. And what doesn't grow back the same. "Also learned that jungle rot is a real thing, and it's exactly as pleasant as it sounds."

"Were you always with a team?"

I shake my head. "Only when we were lucky. Sometimes backup was hours out. Sometimes it never came." I shrug. "Amazing how creative you get when it's just you and whatever's in your pack."

"Is that where you found your faith?" she asks softly.

"My folks are believers. Raised me right.” I add. "I believed in God. I just didn't talk about it. The VA hospital changed that."

The VA hospital stripped me down to nothing. No mission. No uniform. Just pain, and a Book I finally started reading for more than guilt.

She tilts her head. "Wounded in the field?"