Page 10 of Fierce Hope (Hope Landing: New Recruits #3)
The next Saturday morning, the crunch of snowshoes against the frost-rimmed crust of snow matched Jade’s heartbeat—steady, rhythmic, alive.
Morning sunlight sparkled off the snow, turning the mountain trail into a sea of diamonds.
Pine branches swayed overhead, occasionally releasing small puffs of snow that drifted down like fairy dust.
For the first time in days, she felt almost normal.
“Earth to Jade!” Lindsay’s laugh cut through her reverie. “You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?” Jade adjusted her grip on her poles, careful to maintain her balance on the slight incline.
“That dreamy look.” Becca waggled her eyebrows. “Thinking about a certain tall, dark, and dangerous visitor to the office?”
Heat crept into Jade’s cheeks that had nothing to do with exertion. “I’m thinking about my tax prep schedule, actually.”
“Sure you are.” Lindsay grinned. “That’s why you nearly walked into that tree branch when I mentioned how good Deke Williams looked in his tactical gear at the church fundraiser.”
“I did not!” But Jade found herself laughing, the sound carrying across the pristine landscape. When was the last time she’d laughed like this?
Her careful audit of the church books had revealed nothing but the expected minor errors of volunteer bookkeepers.
Even her discreet inquiries about potentially angry clients had turned up empty.
And she absolutely wasn’t going to risk reaching out to any contacts from her past. No way she wanted to alert anyone to her presence.
Thankfully, the past few days had been quiet. No new notes. No mysterious sounds in the night.
Maybe she really had been paranoid. Maybe?—
“Seriously though,” Becca panted slightly as they crested a small rise, “is that SEAL still sniffing around your spreadsheets? Because if you’re not interested ...”
“He’s DJ’s father,” Jade said firmly. “That’s all.”
And someone I can never let get too close, she added silently. Getting involved with anyone meant questions. Background checks. The kind of scrutiny that could unravel everything she’d built here.
Still, she couldn’t help remembering the warmth of his hand on her arm, the genuine concern in his eyes. For just a moment, she’d been tempted to lean into that strength, to let someone else carry her burden.
Lindsay waved a mittened hand in front of her face. “Hello? You’re doing it again!”
Jade blinked, forcing a smile. “Sorry. Just ... enjoying the morning.”
And she was. The crisp mountain air, the exercise, the companionship—it felt wonderfully, beautifully normal. Like the person she’d been pretending to be for the past decade might actually be real.
Don’t get comfortable, her father’s voice whispered. Comfortable marks are dead marks.
Jade forced those thoughts away, focusing instead on Lindsay’s story about her latest dating disaster. She wouldn’t let old ghosts ruin this moment of peace.
Even if peace, in her experience, never lasted long.
Lindsay finished her story, and in the next breath she taunted them with: “Come on, slowpokes!”
She lengthened her stride, her muscles warm now despite the cold. The morning had started rough—another night of fitful sleep, jumping at shadows. But here, surrounded by stunning wilderness and the laughter of friends, those fears seemed distant.
A few minutes later Lindsay waved her poles. “We’re here!”
Jade blinked. They’d reached the parking area, their breath creating small clouds in the crisp air.
Lindsay already had her phone out. “Selfie time! Come on, squish in.”
They pressed together, red-cheeked and smiling, with the snow-covered peaks as their backdrop. For a moment, Jade could almost believe she was just another young professional, enjoying an outing with friends.
“We need to do this more often,” Becca said as they headed for their cars. “You’ve been too cooped up lately.”
“Yeah,” Jade agreed, though a familiar knot of tension began forming in her stomach. What would she find when she reached her car? Another note? Another warning?
Stop it, she chided herself. You’re being paranoid.
But paranoia had kept her alive this long.
Still, she allowed herself a small hope. Maybe this time, just this once, she could have something normal. Something real.
After saying goodbye to Lindsay and Becca, she drove straight to Morton’s Market. She needed groceries, but more than that, she needed the mundane ritual of shopping to settle her nerves. Maybe if she acted normal long enough, she’d start feeling normal too.
The store’s automatic doors whooshed open, releasing a blast of warm air scented with fresh bread and coffee. She grabbed a cart, trying to focus on her mental shopping list instead of the way her hands still trembled slightly from the morning’s exertion—or maybe from something else entirely.
Her thoughts drifted traitorously to Deke as she picked through the produce section.
The way his presence had filled her office doorway.
The genuine concern in his eyes when he’d offered help.
For a moment, she’d been tempted—so tempted—to let down her walls.
To lean on someone else’s strength for once.
Don’t be stupid, she chided herself, selecting a bunch of bananas. The last thing he needs is to get dragged into your mess.
Still, as she moved through the aisles, she couldn’t help wondering. What would it be like to have someone solid in her corner? Someone who?—
She cut that thought off sharply. Better to focus on what she knew. No suspicious transactions in the church accounts. No disgruntled clients at the firm. Nothing concrete linking back to her old life.
So why does something still feel wrong?
The cashier’s cheerful “Have a great day!” barely registered as she headed for the exit, arms laden with bags. The wind had picked up, carrying the bite of approaching snow. She really should have parked closer, but the lot had been packed when she?—
Her steps faltered.
There, fluttering beneath her windshield wiper, was another piece of white paper.
The grocery bags suddenly felt like lead weights. Her pulse thundered as she approached her car, scanning the busy lot. Nothing appeared out of place. Just Saturday shoppers loading groceries, kids trailing parents, a couple arguing over their shopping list.
With trembling fingers, she plucked the paper from under the wiper. The words, typed in stark black letters, sent ice through her veins:
You’re smarter than this. Walk away or you’ll be sorry.
Her head snapped up, eyes darting from face to face. But there was nothing—no one watching, no one suspicious. Just the ordinary bustle of a weekend morning.
The paper crumpled in her fist as anger surged through her fear. Enough. She was done jumping at shadows, done letting these threats control her life.
But as she threw the groceries into her trunk, her hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
Walk away from what? What was she missing?
Her breath came in short bursts, her heart hammering against her ribs. The crumpled note in her fist felt like it was burning through her skin. She forced herself to smooth it out, folding it carefully before tucking it into her coat pocket.
The reality of her situation crashed over her like an icy wave. The break-ins. The escalating threats. The complete absence of leads despite her careful investigation. She couldn’t keep jumping at shadows and second-guessing every move.
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.