Chapter Eighteen
D ale sat on the porch of his father’s house, nursing a lukewarm cup of coffee as he stared out at the quiet street. The last five days had been uneventful—eerily so. After the discovery of the machete in Sadie’s garage, they’d all been on high alert, expecting the next move, the next threat. But nothing had happened. Not at his father’s place, not at Sadie’s, not at the ranch.
Just silence.
And that, more than anything, had him on edge.
The morning was peaceful, the mid-morning sun heating the air. It was the kind of day that would normally put Dale at ease, but not today. Not with the tension humming under the surface. He felt like a tightly wound spring ready to snap. The other guys must have felt it too, because no one had left their posts, even though there was no sign of immediate danger.
Mac sat beside him on the porch, his demeanor as calm and unflappable as ever. Cooper, RJ, and Dean were inside, probably chatting about the latest Texas Rangers game. Rylee and her husband, Dex, another former Delta guy, were next door “visiting” with Sadie, making a few batches of chicken tamales they were all going to eat for lunch. His stomach rumbled just thinking about them.
But Dale’s mind kept circling back to the same thoughts, over and over.
“I can’t help but feel guilty,” Dale muttered, breaking the comfortable silence between him and Mac. “You guys have been away from your families, from your lives, because of all this. I know you keep saying it’s part of the job, but it doesn’t sit right with me. I have some money saved. Let me pay everyone for their time.”
Mac turned his head slightly, giving Dale one of those looks that made it clear he was about to get a talking-to. “You’re one of us.”
“But that’s just it, Mac,” he said, cutting the guy off. “I’m not one of you guys. I don’t work for ESI.”
He might in the future. He was still mulling over Mac’s job offer, and Gabe’s, but for now, he needed to concentrate on keeping Sadie, his father, the ranch, their houses, and his friends safe.
“Not what I meant.” Mac shook his head. “You’re former military. A brother. We take care of our own, no questions asked. And you’re not pulling us away from anything. We still have guys out there working other assignments. We’re just making sure this is handled right.”
“I appreciate it, Mac,” Dale said. “Thanks.”
RJ emerged from the house, a grin on his face. “Cooper’s trying to teach Dean about baseball strategy. Pretty sure Dean’s heard the same play called three different ways, but he’s too polite to point it out.”
Dale chuckled, but the weight of his earlier thoughts still pressed down on him. “I hate making you guys stay here. It’s just… I know you all have families to get back to. And I can’t help but wonder if I’m taking you away from more important things.”
“More important than keeping you and your family safe?” RJ asked, raising an eyebrow. “Not a chance. Besides, this isn’t just about you. Whoever’s behind this is a threat to everyone here. If we don’t stop them now, who’s to say they won’t go after the next person?”
True. He hadn’t really thought about it that way.
Cooper appeared in the doorway, nodding in agreement as he joined them on the porch. “RJ’s right. And we’re not exactly twiddling our thumbs, either. We’ve been keeping up with everything else, making sure all our bases are covered. Mac’s got this under control.”
Mac nodded. “Exactly. We’ve got enough people on the ground to handle everything that’s coming our way. This is just another job, Dale. And when it’s all over, we’ll go back to our families knowing we did right by one of our own.”
Dale sighed, running a hand through his hair as he looked out at the quiet street again. “I appreciate it, I really do. I just wish I knew what we were dealing with. It’s been five days of nothing. No sign of anyone at any of the properties. It doesn’t make sense.”
“That’s what worries me,” Dean added, joining the group from the doorway. “It’s too quiet. It’s like they’re waiting for something—or planning something bigger.”
“Gabe said he’s increased patrols around the properties,” Dale stated. “But without knowing who we’re dealing with or what they want, it feels like we’re just sitting ducks. We thought Sadie was just a pawn until that damn machete showed up. What else have we gotten wrong?”
Mac sipped his coffee, his eyes narrowing in thought. “Have you heard anything back on the machete? And whatever else the sheriff’s people processed in the garage?”
Dale nodded, setting his cup down on the porch railing. “Yeah, Gabe called me this morning. It’s a Colombian Hawkbill Machete. No prints, no identifying marks, nothing that points us in any direction. Gabe said it’s a tool that’s typically used for agricultural work—cutting through thick vegetation, that sort of thing. As for the rest of the garage, only Sadie’s prints were on her tools, and according to her, nothing was missing or out of place.”
After the men had processed the garage and removed the machete, Gabe had asked Sadie to survey the room for anything off.
RJ frowned, clearly puzzled. “Doesn’t exactly scream ‘personal vendetta,’ does it?”
“No, it doesn’t,” Dale agreed. “Which makes me wonder if we’re missing something. Maybe there’s a connection we haven’t made yet. Something about that machete just doesn’t add up.”
Dean leaned against the porch railing, his expression thoughtful. “It could be symbolic. Or it could be that they’re trying to throw us off their trail by using something that seems unrelated. Another pawn piece, perhaps.”
“But unrelated to what?” Cooper asked, shaking his head. “If they’re trying to send a message, it’s not one that any of us are getting. And that worries me. We can’t fight back if we don’t know what we’re up against.”
Mac crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze steady as he looked at Dale. “We’re not going to stop until we figure this out, Dale. But you need to understand that this could take time. Whoever’s behind this might be testing us, seeing how we react. Or they could be waiting for the right moment to strike.”
Dale clenched his fists, frustration gnawing at him. “And in the meantime, we just sit here, waiting for them to make their move. I’m an offense kind of guy.”
“I know,” Mac said, his voice firm. “We all are. But that’s part of the job too. Sometimes, we have to wait for the other side to make a mistake. And when they do, we’ll be ready.”
RJ nodded. “They’re playing the long game. But so are we. And if they think they can outlast us, they’re in for a rude awakening.”
“Hooyah,” Cooper uttered the Navy battle cry quietly, and the others nodded, even Mac, the only Army guy on the porch.
Dale looked at the men around him—his friends, his brothers in arms. There was a sense of solidarity here, a shared determination to see this through. And while the unknowns gnawed at him, he knew one thing for certain: these guys were the people he could count on, no matter what.
Still, the quiet unnerved him. The lack of activity didn’t feel like a reprieve, it felt like the calm before a storm. And he couldn’t shake the feeling that something big was on the horizon, something they hadn’t anticipated.
“Any thoughts on why things have gone quiet?” Dale asked, looking to Mac, who seemed to have a knack for seeing things others didn’t.
The guy stared out at the horizon for a moment before speaking. “Could be a few things. They might be waiting for an opportunity, or they could be regrouping, planning their next move. But my gut says they’re testing us—seeing how we respond, where we’re weak.”
Dale nodded, the tension in his chest tightening. “And if they find a weak spot?”
“Then we close it up before they can exploit it,” Mac replied. “We’ve been doing this a long time, Dale. Both on active duty as well as here in Harland County. We’ve seen all kinds of threats, all kinds of tactics. Whoever this is might think they’re being clever, but we’ve got the experience to see through it.”
Cooper leaned forward, his voice low. “We’ve got people watching, cameras up, and the sheriff’s department on alert. If they make a move, we’ll know about it. And we’ll be ready.”
The reassurance from his friends helped, but the uncertainty still lingered. The machete, the quiet, the unknown assailant—it all pointed to something more than just a random act of violence. This felt personal, calculated.
As the group settled back into a companionable silence, Dale let out a slow breath, trying to steady his nerves. They might be in the dark now, but they were far from defeated. And when the time came, they’d be ready to fight back.
For now, they’d wait. And they’d watch. And they’d make damn sure that when the storm hit, they were the ones who came out on top.
***
Later that afternoon, after an incredible tamale lunch, Dale followed Sadie up the narrow staircase that led to the apartment above the garage, his eyes taking in every detail of the delectable feast sashaying in front of him. Her rounded hips and perfect cheeks were fantasy-worthy, and he was the lucky SOB to have them as part of his reality.
Forcing his attention off her sweet ass, he waited for her to unlock the door before he followed her inside and quickly entered the alarm code to keep it from triggering. Since he’d checked the video feed of all three rooms on her phone beforehand, Dale had allowed Sadie to take lead, so she’d have at least a little bit of control in her seemingly out-of-control life.
This was the first time he’d stepped foot inside the place. Rylee had hung out with Sadie up here two days ago. The day of Sadie’s first attempt to record content.
Dale was determined to make today a success for her. She needed normalcy. She needed a win.
With a quick but thorough glance, he took in the space. The apartment was a cozy, open-concept area with a small kitchenette along one wall, complete with white cabinets and a sleek countertop. He could see two open doors on the far wall. One led to a bedroom and the other to a bathroom. The living area in which they were standing—Sadie’s craft room—looked like a rainbow exploded.
The white walls were lined with white shelving units, each one crammed with bins, jars, and baskets full of colorful craft supplies. It was like stepping into a world where every shade of the rainbow had come to life. Ribbons, paints, markers, and paper in every hue imaginable filled the shelves, all meticulously organized yet giving off a chaotic, creative energy.
In the center of the room stood a large, white counter-height desk, which served as Sadie’s main workspace. Attached to it in the center was a camera hanging from an upside-down U-shaped bar fastened to the desk on both sides. In front of the desk was a large, round light that no doubt bathed the area in an even glow—her set-up for filming content for her crafting channel.
“Well, here’s hoping round two goes better,” she said, more to herself than him. “There’s a TV in the bedroom if you want to kick back while I fumble my way through another video.”
Despite the vibrant surroundings, Sadie looked anything but inspired. This was the second time in three days she’d tried to record content, but she just couldn’t seem to get into the right headspace. Her gaze was clouded with a mix of doubt and lingering sadness, shadowing the usual sparkle in her eyes. Tension stiffened her shoulders as she stared at her materials with frustration etched on her face.
“I’ll just hang out here for a bit, if that’s okay?” he asked, walking toward two shelving units across from her desk that held a bunch of handmade gnomes as well as crocheted or knitted animals, he wasn’t sure which. The whole lot was cute and colorful and looked like they took a lot of work.
“That’s fine,” she said, absently, her gaze still on the items on her desk.
He leaned against the wall next to the shelves, far enough out of the camera angle, yet close enough to offer his silent support. Dale watched her for several minutes as she fiddled with a piece of ribbon, searching for the right words for her intro. She tried a few different spiels, but each time Sadie shook her head and sighed, clearly dissatisfied.
“This used to be my sanctuary,” she said with a sigh. “My hub of fun and creativity. Now it just feels tainted.”
His chest squeezed tightly. God, he hated seeing her like this. The vibrant energy that normally radiated from her was dimmed, overshadowed by the events of the past few days.
Crossing the room in just a few steps, he stopped behind her and set his hands on her shoulders. “Sadie,” he began softly, “it’s understandable that you’re feeling this way after what happened. But you can’t let it take this space from you. This is yours—your happy place.”
She leaned back into his touch, her eyes closing as she let out a heavy breath. “I know. I keep telling myself that every day. I hate that it’s zapping my creativity, Dale. I hate that I’m letting it win.”
He gently turned her around to face him and dipped down to stare into her clouded gaze. “Maybe,” he said, brushing his thumb lightly across her cheek, “you just need to make a new memory—a good one, a fun one—to cancel out the bad.”
Her head tilted slightly, and a small, curious smile pulled at her lips. “Oh? And how do you suggest I do that?”
Dale didn’t answer right away. Instead, he pulled her closer, his arms wrapping around her waist as he leaned in and captured her lips in a tender kiss. It started soft, gentle, but as he felt her respond, it deepened, turning into something more. The tension in her body seemed to melt away as she relaxed against him, her arms sliding up around his neck.
When they finally broke apart, they were breathless, and the look in Sadie’s eyes had changed. The frustration and worry were gone, replaced by a warmth and affection that rushed through his chest.
“Something like that?” he murmured, resting his forehead against hers.
She laughed softly, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Yeah, something exactly like that.”
He smiled, kissing her again, slower this time, savoring the moment. The craft room, once a place of anxiety and frustration for her, now seemed to hum with a different energy—one of connection, of intimacy and possibilities. Dale felt the shift and knew this was what Sadie needed. A reminder that no matter what had happened, this was still her space, and it could still bring her joy.
As always happened when they kissed, it grew in intensity into something deeper, more urgent. He gently guided her backward to the desk, lifting her onto the edge. Instinctively, her legs wrapped around him, pulling him closer, heating his blood.
The craft supplies, the colorful chaos surrounding them, all faded into the background as they lost themselves in each other.
He wanted to create a new memory for her, a good one, a moment that would stand out against the shadows of the past few days. And as Dale held Sadie close, he knew they were starting to reclaim what had been taken from her.
Together, they were stronger, and together, they would create something incredible out of the chaos.
But first, they needed to turn off the security cameras in the apartment, and second, they needed to get naked.