Page 11 of Fierce Hope (Hope Landing: New Recruits #3)

Deke scrubbed the 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.

Jade stood on his porch, snow dusting her shoulders and catching in her dark hair. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold, but her eyes were sharp, darting past him to scan the interior of his house. One hand clutched her purse tight against her side, the other wrapped around herself like armor.

“Come in,” he said, stepping back. The words came out rougher than he intended.

She hesitated for just a heartbeat before crossing his threshold. The moment felt weighted, significant—Jade Villanueva, walking into his personal space. Into his life.

“Can I take your coat?”

She shook her head, still standing just inside the door. “I won’t stay long.”

“At least warm up a bit.” He gestured toward the kitchen. “Coffee? Tea? I think DJ left some hot chocolate mix somewhere ...”

“Coffee would be nice,” she said softly, following him into the kitchen. Her boots clicked against the hardwood floors—precise, measured steps, like she was mapping escape routes.

He busied himself with the coffee maker, sneaking glances as she perched on the edge of a kitchen chair. Her shoulders were rigid, spine straight, but her hands trembled slightly as she finally set her purse down.

“Sugar? Cream?”

“Black is fine.”

The coffee maker’s gurgle filled the silence between them. Deke leaned against the counter, fighting the urge to move closer, to offer comfort. Something had spooked her badly enough to seek him out. The protective instinct that had been simmering for weeks roared to life.

But he waited, letting her find her words. The coffee finished brewing, and he set a mug in front of her, taking the seat across the table.

Jade wrapped her hands around the mug, staring into its depths like she might find answers there. When she finally looked up, the fear in her eyes made his chest ache.

“I need your help.”

“Another break-in?”

She shook her head and pulled a collection of folded notes from her coat pocket, smoothing them on the table between them. “I got one on my car today at the grocery store. One a couple days ago in the church parking lot, and the first one at work in a bouquet of flowers.”

Work, home and church. The three places she probably spent the most time.

Deke read the threatening messages, his jaw tightening. “What else has been going on?”

She took a shaky breath. “It all started about a month ago. My car was broken into in front of my condo. Nothing was taken, just things tossed around inside. I figured it was kids looking for valuables. But then, last week, it happened again in the church lot. There was nothing taken, just ... moved around enough so I’d know they’d been there. That’s when they left the first note.”

“Did you call the police?”

“The first time, when my car was ransacked. They took a report, but …”

“Yeah.” Deke liked the town’s chief, the officers he’d met, too. But they were a small department. Chief Frazer had to manage his limited resources. “This is escalating.”

She set down her coffee, barely touched. “That’s why I reached out.”

“I’m glad you did. My team and I will figure this out. That’s a promise.”

She smiled wanly. “I can pay?—”

“Don’t even go there. This is …” He almost said personal. Because it felt personal. Instead, he finished with: “You tutor my son. This is on me.”

Thankfully, she didn’t argue.

He studied her face, noting the shadows under her eyes, the tension in her shoulders. “Any ex-boyfriends I should know about? Angry clients? Someone at the firm with a grudge?”

She shook her head. “No exes in the picture. And no suspicious client activity. I’ve scoured my records. Twice. I even audited the church accounts, thinking maybe ...” She trailed off, then squared her shoulders. “Nothing suspicious anywhere I look.”

“What about?—”

“I’ve gone over everything, Deke. Every client, every coworker, every church member who might have a reason. There’s nothing.”

Their eyes met across the table. In that moment, he saw past her careful composure to the fear beneath—and something else, something that made his spidey senses tingle.

The urge to reach for her hand was almost overwhelming.

“Let Knight Tactical help,” he said softly. “We can run background checks, set up surveillance. Install a proper security system in your condo.”

She flinched slightly at “background checks,” but nodded. “I just ... I need to know who’s doing this. And why.”

“We’ll figure it out.” He stood, decision made. “But first, I’m following you home. Make sure everything’s secure.”

“You don’t have to?—”

“I need to pick up DJ anyway,” he lied smoothly. “It’s on my way.”

Relief flickered across her face, though tension still lined her shoulders. She gathered her purse, clutching it close again. “Thank you,” she whispered.

The words carried more weight than a simple courtesy. Deke watched her stand, noting how she automatically scanned the room, checking exits. Whatever had brought her to his door tonight, whatever she might still be holding back, one thing was clear: The pretty accountant was afraid.

And he was going to find out why.

He grabbed his keys and followed her to the door. “First thing tomorrow I’ll have our tech team do a full security assessment. We’ll need to upgrade your locks, install cameras?—”

“I don’t want to be a bother?—”

“This isn’t a bother, Jade. This is what we do.” He kept his voice gentle but firm. “Let us help.”

She nodded, though he could see the anxiety flicker across her face at the mention of cameras. “Thank you.”

Deke trailed her to her condo, eyes constantly scanning his mirrors, checking for any vehicles that might be following either of them. Jade’s taillights led him through familiar streets until they pulled into her complex.

He parked close to her car, surveying the darkened lot as she gathered her things. The security lighting was minimal—something he’d need to address with building management.

Too many shadows, too many blind spots.

She headed up the outside stairs to the door of her second story place. He stepped closer, positioning himself between her and the half-empty lot. The door clicked open, and he followed her inside.

Her condo was unnaturally neat, everything in its precise place. No family photos. No personal touches.

“Your locks are basic,” he said, examining her door. “We’ll replace these tomorrow. Add deadbolts, a security bar?—”

“Deke.” Her voice was soft, but it stopped him mid-sentence. They stood in her doorway, the space between them charged with something more than professional concern.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “For everything.”

He wanted to step closer, to brush back the strand of hair that had fallen across her cheek. “I’m glad you asked for help.”

Their eyes held for a moment longer before she stepped back, closing the door. He waited until he heard all three locks engage before heading back to his truck.

The parking lot felt different now, every shadow concealing a potential threat. Good. Let them see him. Let them know Jade wasn’t alone anymore.

He started the engine, sweeping his headlights across the lot one final time.

In his line of work, he’d faced down drug cartels, terrorist cells, and international crime syndicates.

Whoever was terrorizing Jade might think they had the upper hand, but they’d just made their first mistake: They’d made it personal.

As he pulled out onto the street, his resolve hardened into steel.

This ends now . Whatever it takes.