Page 26 of Fierce Hope (Hope Landing: New Recruits #3)
Sunday afternoon, Deke surveyed the transformed hangar with equal parts pride and mild panic.
Knight Tactical’s utilitarian space had undergone a mermaid-rainbow metamorphosis overnight.
Twisted streamers in ocean blues and greens crisscrossed with rainbow colors above balloon fish “swimming” along the ceiling.
The concrete floor—usually populated with training equipment and tactical gear—now hosted clusters of glittery tables and a makeshift dance floor where approximately fifteen sugar-fueled children careened like pinballs.
Despite the cheerful chaos, he found himself automatically cataloging entry points, sightlines, and potential security vulnerabilities—habits that hadn’t lessened since Chad’s attacks on Jade. The question of who had hired him remained a persistent shadow, even here amid balloon fish and glitter.
“We’re one speaker malfunction away from total chaos,” Jack observed, appearing at Deke’s side with a plastic cup of punch. “Nice execution on the decorations, though. Didn’t know you had it in you.”
“I didn’t,” Deke admitted, accepting the offered drink. “This was all Jade and the team. I just provided emergency transportation services.”
Jack’s gaze drifted to where Jade stood chatting with Kelli and Lauren by the snack table. “ She’s fitting in well.”
Something warm expanded in Deke’s chest at the sight of her—laughing at something Lauren had said, looking more relaxed than he’d seen her in weeks. She’d arrived early to help set up, quietly taking charge of final preparations with an efficiency that had impressed even Zara.
He scanned the room again, this time professionally rather than socially.
“You’re doing it again,” Jack observed quietly.
“Doing what?”
“Looking for threats in a room full of birthday cake and six-year-olds.”
Deke forced his shoulders to relax. “Hard habit to break these days.”
Jack snorted. “Eloquent as always, Williams.”
Before Deke could retort, Kenji sprinted past them, trailing rainbow ribbons like a comet. “CRISIS! The ice sculpture is leaking into the hors d’oeuvres tray.”
“Ice sculpture?” Deke blinked. “Since when do we have an ice sculpture?”
“Since Kenji discovered the Admiral’s expense account,” Ronan supplied, strolling over with Maya. “He’ll be explaining that one at the next budget meeting.”
Maya laughed, brushing her shoulder against Ronan’s.
Deke felt a tug of envy at their easy closeness, his eyes automatically seeking Jade again. She’d moved to help Izzy arrange Chantal’s presents, head bent close as they talked. Even from across the room, he could see the tension in Izzy’s shoulders as she checked her phone with a grimace.
“Everything okay?” he asked, making his way over.
Izzy quickly pocketed her phone. “Just Chantal’s baby daddy. Sending his usual lame birthday text. I’m guessing his mother reminded him.” Her voice dropped. “Not worth showing her.”
Deke nodded, recognizing the familiar anger in her eyes. He’d been there when Izzy had finally escaped her ex’s controlling grip. “She’s having a great time,” he offered instead, nodding toward where Chantal twirled in her sequined mermaid costume. “That’s what matters.”
“Thanks to you guys,” Izzy’s expression softened. “Though I think we’re about thirty seconds from?—”
Kenji sidled up to them, eyes wide. “Small emergency here. The magician’s running late. Idiot decided to get a few last runs in at the ski resort, and now he’s stuck in resort traffic. ETA unknown. There goes the entertainment.”
“—that,” Izzy finished with a sigh.
Deke glanced toward the corner where DJ had been camped since their arrival, surprised to find his son actually looking up from his phone, watching the unfolding drama with something like interest. Their eyes met briefly before DJ looked away, but not before Deke caught the slight eye roll that somehow felt more communicative than their entire morning conversation.
“We’ve got games planned,” Jade suggested calmly, looking to Izzy. “We could start those early.”
But the restless energy of the children was building fast. A minor squabble broke out near the punch bowl, and Chantal’s lower lip began to wobble dangerously.
The genuine distress on the little girl’s face tugged at his heart. She’d been through so much already in her young life. Hence the pressure Izzy put on herself to make everything perfect on her girl’s special day.
Before anyone could react, catastrophe struck from another direction.
One of Jack’s small twins went careening past the cake table, bumping it hard.
The elaborate three-tiered mermaid creation—a masterpiece of fondant and buttercream —slid and partially collapsed.
The mermaid topper broke free, landing in a splat of frosting.
Chantal’s tiny face crumpled. “My cake,” she wailed, tears spilling. “My special cake.”
“It’s official. We’re in full meltdown mode,” Ronan muttered, bouncing the other twin on his leg. “Quick, someone get Griff to do his robot impression.”
Deke was about to step in when movement from the corner caught his eye.
DJ pushed away from the wall, shoving his phone into his pocket, and approached the gathering storm of upset children.
Deke froze, watching with a mixture of confusion and alarm as his perpetually sullen teenager knelt to Chantal’s level.
“Hey,” DJ said, his voice gentler than Deke had heard in months. “You know what’s cooler than a mermaid cake?”
Chantal sniffled. “Nothing’s cooler than a mermaid cake.”
“Yeah, I hear you. But a special birthday magic trick would be close, right?” DJ produced a deck of cards from his pocket. “Want to see?”
The children gathered closer as DJ shuffled the cards with surprising dexterity. His fingers moved with practiced precision, executing a series of fancy cuts and flourishes that even Deke found impressive.
“My uncle taught me this,” DJ explained to his rapt audience. “It’s all about misdirection.”
He fanned the cards face down, instructing Chantal to pick one. “Remember it, but don’t tell me.”
She nodded solemnly, studying her card before returning it to the deck.
DJ’s hands moved in an intricate pattern as he shuffled, occasionally dropping cards in what looked like clumsy mistakes but Deke recognized as deliberate moves. He’d seen similar techniques used in covert operations—the art of making something intentional look accidental.
“The real trick,” DJ told Chantal as he continued the elaborate shuffle, “is making people look where you want them to look.” He deliberately fumbled again, sending several cards scattering to the floor.
While everyone’s attention followed the fallen cards, his left hand smoothly palmed something from his pocket.
“Meanwhile,” he continued, giving Deke a fleeting glance that suggested he knew exactly what he was demonstrating, “you can do something else entirely.”
With a dramatic flourish, DJ produced Chantal’s card—somehow now with a tiny mermaid sticker attached to its corner.
“Is this your card?” he asked, to gasps and applause.
“How did you DO that?” Chantal breathed, utterly enchanted.
“Magic,” DJ said with a wink. “And really fast hands.”
“Can you teach me?” she asked eagerly.
“Maybe someday,” DJ replied. “We gotta wait until your hands get a little bigger.” He demonstrated, his right hand making circular motions while his left executed a completely different pattern.
The birthday girl scrunched up her tiny nose. “Or we could get littler cards.”
DJ’s grin could have lit up a room. He patted the tiny girl on the shoulder. “Are you sure you’re six today? You’re way smarter than most grown-ups.”
Deke watched, genuinely impressed. He’d had no idea DJ had developed such skilled sleight of hand. The practical applications weren’t lost on him either—the ability to distract, misdirect, and execute precise movements under pressure were valuable skills in certain high-stress situations.
None of which held a candle to the boy’s generous heart.
“Where’d you learn all that?” he asked later, when DJ had organized the kids into teams for an elaborate game.
DJ shrugged, but there was a hint of pride in his voice. “Online, mostly. And I practiced a lot ...” he hesitated. “It got kinda boring waiting around for mom sometimes.”
The admission hit Deke like a physical blow. Before he could respond, Chantal called for DJ to demonstrate his “magic hands” again.
“Your son has some interesting talents,” Jade said, appearing at Deke’s side. “Those are some impressive dexterity skills.”
“Yeah,” Deke agreed, watching as DJ demonstrated to the older kids how to make a coin disappear. “I had no idea.”
“The best kind of skill,” Jade observed, “is one nobody knows you have until you need it.”
Her words struck Deke as oddly prescient, but before he could dwell on it, the cake crisis demanded their attention.
The rest of the party unfolded in cheerful chaos. The “shipwreck cake” was a spectacular success, the magician eventually arrived (though the kids unanimously declared DJ’s tricks better), and presents were unwrapped with gleeful abandon.
Throughout it all, Deke watched his son with new eyes. The dexterity and quick-thinking DJ had demonstrated weren’t just party tricks—they represented adaptability and resourcefulness that Deke hadn’t given him credit for.
As DJ performed one final trick for Chantal, making a rainbow ribbon seemingly materialize from thin air with those quick, clever hands, Deke couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride.
Whatever challenges lay ahead, his son had unexpected depths—and abilities that might one day prove more valuable than either of them could imagine.