Page 23 of Fierce Hope (Hope Landing: New Recruits #3)

Saturday morning sunlight filtered through the frosted windows of Hope Landing Church’s bookkeeping office, catching dust motes that danced in the air.

The building hummed with weekend activity—cheerful voices from a youth group meeting down the hall, the squeak of cart wheels from volunteers setting up a rummage sale, and the rich scent of coffee wafting from the volunteer station.

Deke stood near Jade’s desk, watching her sort through ledgers and donation slips. Her fingers moved with practiced efficiency, but he caught the slight tremor in them—exhaustion, stress, or both. The urge to reach out, to steady those hands with his own, caught him off guard.

He slipped away to the volunteer station, fixing tea exactly how she preferred—a little honey, splash of milk. Her eyes widened slightly when he returned, the surprise quickly softening to gratitude as their fingers brushed during the handoff.

“I really need to get back to my office soon.” She cradled the mug, inhaling the steam. “Early tax season’s heating up. I can’t afford to stay away much longer.”

His jaw tightened. The thought of her beyond his immediate protection sent cold fingers of dread up his spine.

“We’ll figure out a security rotation.” The words came out more gruffly than intended.

Gratitude flickered in her eyes before she ducked her head, returning to the files. Morning light caught auburn highlights in her hair, transforming ordinary brown to something richer, warmer.

His phone buzzed against his hip—the security alert system finally online. The grainy image showed a figure moving around Jade’s car, shoulders hunched against the cold.

Muscles tensed automatically. Blood pumped faster.

“Stay here,” he ordered, already moving toward the door, voice pitched low enough not to draw attention from the children’s laughter echoing down the hall.

The church lobby bustled with volunteers arranging tables for the rummage sale, teenagers hauling boxes of donated goods. He slipped through the crowd, hand instinctively checking the weapon concealed at his hip.

Cold air slapped his face as he pushed through the heavy doors. Fresh snow blanketed the parking lot, crystalline and untouched except for a single set of footprints.

Perfect.

He spotted his target immediately—young male, dark hoodie pulled low, crouched by Jade’s driver-side door. Breath puffing white clouds in the crisp air.

Training took over. The satisfying crunch beneath his boots silenced by distant traffic. Fifty feet. Thirty. Ten.

The stranger sensed movement. Straightened suddenly, spinning around. Wide eyes met his. A stumbling step backward.

“Hands where I can see them.” Keeping his voice low and level. Analyzing the intruder’s posture—nervous, amateur, no visible weapon bulge. “Slowly.”

“I-I wasn’t doing anything wrong.” Trembling hands rose. Up close, the kid looked barely past college age. Worn hoodie with frayed cuffs. Scuffed sneakers. Dark circles under bloodshot eyes.

The cold bit through Deke’s jacket. Wind carried the scent of impending snow.

“Cut the lies.” He took another calculated step forward. Close enough to grab the kid if needed.

“Listen, man, I can explain?—”

“Then explain.” He shifted his weight, ready to block any potential escape. “Fast.”

The kid’s eyes darted around the parking lot. No one in sight except for church volunteers visible through distant windows. His shoulders slumped. “My name’s Chad. Chad Delgado. I was just doing a delivery job.”

“For who?”

“Online gig.” Chad’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “Fifty bucks to drop an envelope. That’s it.”

Suspicion prickled up Deke’s spine. “Show me.”

Chad reached slowly toward his pocket, freezing when Deke tensed. “Just getting the envelope, man.”

The plain white business envelope had no markings. No address. Just Jade’s first name scrawled across the front in block letters.

He took it with gloved fingers. The paper crinkled in the frigid air. “Who hired you?”

“Anonymous account.” Chad pulled out his phone with shaking hands, navigating to the gig site. “See? ‘Simple Delivery Task - $50.’ Just said leave it under the windshield wiper and take a photo for proof.”

The posting looked legit. Chad’s chat log showed minimal interaction, just an address, instructions, and payment details routed through an anonymous account.

Amateur hour. But effective.

Wind whipped between the parked cars, carrying a bite that cut through layers. Chad shivered, shoulders hunched.

Deke snapped photos of the chat details with his own phone, then handed the device back. “That all you were supposed to do? Just this one delivery? Or have you done this before?”

“Just this one, I swear.” Chad’s breath puffed white. “Thought it was like ... a surprise from a friend or something.”

The kid wasn’t lying. His posture, voice patterns, micro-expressions—all registered as genuine distress rather than deception.

A quick background check would confirm everything, but instinct said Chad was just a pawn. Wrong place, wrong job, wrong day.

Plus, even if Deke did call the police, they’d have no grounds to detain the kid.

“Here’s what happens.” He stepped even closer, making his height advantage felt. “You’re going to forget this job. Forget this car. Forget Jade’s name.”

“Absolutely, man. Done.” Relief flooded the kid’s face. “I don’t want trouble.”

He passed over a business card. “If whoever hired you makes contact again, you tell me. Instantly. Otherwise, I don’t want to see your face.”

Chad nodded vigorously, backing away. “Got it. Totally got it.”

“One more thing.” Fixing him with a hard stare. “If I find out you’ve been less than truthful ...”

The threat hung unfinished in the frigid air. It didn’t need completion.

Chad practically sprinted across the parking lot, slipping once on the fresh snow before disappearing around the corner.

The envelope felt oddly heavy in Deke’s hand. He ripped it open, needing to know what it said before he told Jade.

Last warning, Jade. The next message won’t be on paper.

He turned back toward the church, jaw tight. He wanted to shred the thing and burn the scraps. But Jade deserved to know the latest.

Whoever was behind this had resources. Planning capability. Patience.

And they were getting bolder.

Back in the bookkeeping office, Jade sat hunched over her desk, fingers worrying at the edge of an official-looking letter. Her face paled when he entered, eyes immediately searching his.

“What happened?”

“Kid named Chad Delgado was sniffing around your car.” He dropped into the chair across from her, the note dangling from his fingers. “Apparently he was hired anonymously to leave you another note.”

Her throat worked as she swallowed. “Chad? Sarah’s ex? Did he leave the other ones?”

“He denies that, but we’ve got enough intel to follow up.” No need to feed her fear before they knew what they were dealing with. “Either way, preliminary assessment—Delgado’s just a cash-strapped pawn. No direct threat himself. I had to let him walk. He didn’t do anything illegal. Yet.”

She pointed at the note. Waggled her fingers. “Hand it over.”

He watched her expression pinch as she read the ugly words.

“We’re getting close,” he assured her. “This ends soon.”

She let out a shaky breath and let the paper flutter to the desktop. “So we’re back to not knowing who’s behind this.”

“Yet. We don’t know yet. But whoever hired Delgado left a digital trail. Zara and Kenji will have answers as fast as they can type.”

Wanting to distract her, he nodded at the letter Pastor Dan had dropped off. “You make any headway on that storage puzzle?”

“Not yet.” She shrugged. “Their offices aren’t open until Monday. I’ll check with them then. Probably something left over from when the church rented space. That was a few years ago. I’m sure it’s a paperwork glitch.”

Or it was another clue. The hairs on his neck prickled. He leaned forward to snag it. “May I?”

The letter appeared legitimate—corporate letterhead, proper formatting, reference number. But the account details triggered every instinct honed through years of security work.

“Did Pastor Dan say he never authorized the storage rental, or that he doesn’t remember doing it?”

Her lips twitched despite the tension. “With the pastor, there’s not usually a difference.”

He leaned back, rubbing his burning eyes. He’d bring this up to the team, but for the moment, he worried he was jumping at shadows. And this was no time to get distracted. Catching Delgado in the act was a gift.

A few minutes of cyber-hacking and they’d know who was harassing Jade.

He just needed to keep his eye on the ball.

His chest tightened, watching Jade return to sorting church records with deliberate calm. She was unexpected—strong, resilient, faithful despite legitimate fear.

In another world, under different circumstances ...

DJ’s angry face flashed through his mind. His son barely tolerated him now. Adding Jade into that volatile equation wouldn’t be fair to anyone.

“I’ll coordinate with Kenji about Delgado. He and Zara can look into the storage unit, too. They’ll have answers way before Monday.”

He rose, needing distance from the dangerous pull she exerted.

She looked up then, eyes meeting his directly. Something deeper than gratitude passed between them—something that accelerated his pulse way beyond professional boundaries.

Around them, the church hummed with Saturday life. But watching her quiet determination, he knew his world had already shifted.

He just couldn’t afford to let himself acknowledge how much.