Page 9 of Fierce Hope (Hope Landing: New Recruits #3)

Deke gripped the steering wheel of his truck, watching snowflakes drift onto the windshield before melting into oblivion.

The gray sky pressed down like a tactical vest—heavy, constraining, yet somehow protective.

He’d been sitting in KTP’s parking lot for five minutes, replaying his conversation with Jade.

Her careful smile. Her practiced deflections. The flash of fear in her eyes when he’d mentioned the police call.

She’d said it was nothing. She was lying.

He’d seen enough people try to hide trouble to recognize the signs. The question was: why? And why did her refusal to trust him feel like a personal blow?

Focus on the facts, Williams.

Fact one: Someone most likely had been in her condo last night.

Fact two: She was scared enough to be watching shadows.

Fact three: She’d rather face whatever threat existed than accept his help.

The last one stuck like a burr under his skin. In his line of work, people usually welcomed protection.

Unless they were hiding something worse than the threat itself.

He climbed out of the truck, snow crunching under his boots as he headed for the hangar. The massive sliding doors hummed open, releasing a burst of warm air that carried the familiar scents of aviation fuel and electronics.

The usual controlled chaos was oddly subdued.

Half the team was out on a protection detail for a visiting diplomat, leaving the space feeling hollow.

Near the break area, Zara sat hunched over her tablet, rubbing her temples in that way that meant her headaches were back.

Kenji paced nearby, his usual easy grin replaced by a furrowed brow.

Deke considered retreating to his office. He wasn’t in the mood for?—

“Hey.” Izzy’s quiet voice caught him before he could escape. She emerged from the corridor leading to the communications hub. “Any news on Jade? Is she alright?”

The question hit like a round to the chest. Even Izzy was worried. Maybe he wasn’t overreacting. Maybe?—

He often wrestled with his natural inclination to handle things alone. But something—maybe divine guidance, maybe tactical sense—told him this wasn’t the time for silence. His team needed to know.

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” he said finally, letting down his guard just enough to share the burden.

His jaw worked as he weighed his options. The thought of investigating Jade without her permission sat like lead in his gut. But the image of her trying to hide her fear, of her shoulders tight with tension—that sat even worse.

“Look,” he finally said, his voice low. “Something’s not right. And yeah, maybe I’m overstepping. But ...”

“But she matters to DJ,” Izzy finished quietly. “And to the church community.”

He met her knowing gaze, grateful she’d given him that out. Better than admitting how much Jade’s situation was getting under his skin personally.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “And if someone’s targeting her ...”

Kenji stopped pacing, his usual playful demeanor falling away. “What do we know so far?”

Deke moved toward the tactical planning table, the others following. The massive screen embedded in its surface stayed dark, but he found himself staring at it anyway, organizing his thoughts like a mission brief.

“Break-in attempt last night. Neighbor called it in, police found nothing obvious. But ...” He hesitated. “I just went to see her. She’s playing it off, but she hasn’t been herself lately. Jumpy. Distracted. Watching exits.”

“Classic signs of someone who feels threatened,” Izzy noted.

“Wait,” Zara interrupted, straightening despite her obvious discomfort. “The pretty brunette who’s always volunteering? The one who organized the Christmas food drive?”

“That’s her,” Izzy confirmed. “Handles the church finances, tutors kids.”

Kenji’s smirk returned, but his eyes were sharp. “And apparently has caught this dude’s attention.”

“It’s not—” Deke started, then caught himself. “Focus on the problem.”

“Oh, I am.” Kenji’s grin widened briefly before turning serious. “Look, if someone’s hassling her, we should check it out. Quiet recon, background sweep, maybe some surveillance. Basic stuff.”

“She specifically said she doesn’t want help,” Deke pointed out, even as part of him latched onto the suggestion.

Zara shifted, grimacing slightly, clearly having a bad pain day. “Sometimes people say that because they’re scared of making things worse. Or because they’re protecting something.”

Or someone, Deke thought but didn’t say. The possibility had been nagging at him—that Jade might be caught up in something bigger than herself.

“We can be discrete,” Izzy added. “Zara can run a basic background check, see if anything flags. Jade’ll never know.”

The suggestion made sense. It was protocol, really—the kind of precaution they’d take for any potential threat assessment. So why did it feel like a betrayal?

“If she’s in trouble,” Zara added quietly, “wouldn’t you rather know?”

Deke rubbed a hand over his jaw, feeling the rasp of stubble. “Yeah. Just ... keep it quiet. Professional.”

“Of course.” Kenji was already pulling up databases on his tablet.

“Basic background first—property records, court filings, employment history.” His fingers flew across the screen.

“Huh. She’s been in Hope Landing almost twelve years.

Same condo building for ten of those. Steady job at Andreassen-Canning.

Regular church attendance. Volunteering.

It’s like a Norman Rockwell painting come to life. ”

“Too perfect?” Zara wondered aloud.

“Or just a good person,” Izzy countered. “They do exist.”

Deke watched Kenji scroll through public records. Everything looked pristine—almost too pristine. Like someone had carefully constructed the perfect small-town life.

“I’ll check her client list at the firm,” Zara offered. “Maybe someone’s unhappy with how the firm’s handling their finances.”

Kenji glanced up, that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes. “Want me to do a deep dive? You know, purely for security reasons. Not because you’re interested in?—”

“Focus on the threat assessment,” Deke cut him off. But the team’s knowing looks made him want to head to the firing range for a few hours.

“Right.” Kenji’s grin widened. “The threat. To this completely random citizen you’re definitely not concerned about personally.”

Deke ignored him, studying the preliminary data on the screen. Everything looked normal. Safe. Stable.

So why did his gut say otherwise?

“We’ll keep things quiet,” Zara assured him. “But Deke? If she’s hiding something ... are you sure you want to know?”

The question hit harder than he expected. Because no, he wasn’t sure. What if digging revealed something that changed how he saw her? What if?—

He shut down that line of thinking. Besides, the woman spent a fair amount of time with his son. Any concerned parent with secret database access would do the same, right? “Just ... check her out. Let me know if anything feels off.”

The others nodded, already splitting off to begin their assigned tasks. Deke remained by the tactical table, staring at Jade’s pristine background check.

Trust your instincts, his SEAL training whispered. And his instincts said Jade Villanueva was more than she appeared.

He moved toward his office, the quiet hum of the building settling around him like a familiar weight. Through his window, the snow continued to fall, each flake carrying a secret before dissolving into nothing.

She might not want his help. Might not trust him enough to let him in.

No way he’d stand by and watch while something—or someone—threatened her.

I’ll find another way, he promised silently. Whether you like it or not.