Chapter Five #2
“Do you feel ready for this?” Oaks hadn’t said much until now, but when the man spoke, every vet who walked into the Black Heart therapy program listened. Oaks Malone founded the program, and they all showed him reverence.
Oaks continued, “If you can only handle the job when you have a successful op, then we’ll pass on considering you.”
The room silenced, and Pope sat with that for a long minute.
He’d built his life on being the man who didn’t fail. The one who made the call, took the shot, read the threat, got people out. When that stopped being true, he hadn’t known what was left.
He drew a deep breath. “A surgeon has to keep going even when a patient dies.” He locked gazes with Carson.
“That doesn’t mean he forgets what happened.
Doesn’t mean he doesn’t review every damn thing he did.
But if he’s good with a scalpel, if he can still save the next patient, then he keeps working. ”
The words resonated from a place deep inside him that he hadn’t tapped into in a long time. Too long.
Colt was still now. Oaks too. Carson leaned back in his leather desk chair, a new gleam of respect in his gray eyes.
Pope dropped his voice, and his next words cost him. “I know losing one person can’t be the reason I fail the next.”
He’d never said that out loud before.
Hell, maybe he never believed it himself. Maybe he’d just been shaken.
Carson studied him for a beat. “You’ll have to graduate the program first. Which means getting Rhae to approve.”
He inflated his lungs. Their last session hadn’t gone very well, but he only had to prove he was fit for returning to life outside the program.
And just maybe when Summer looked at him, she wouldn’t see a man who had nothing to offer. Maybe she’d see boyfriend material.
“I want in.” The words rang so damn true that his spine prickled.
Carson gave him a stiff nod and pushed a folder toward him. “For now, we plan.”
The four of them went over how to guard Summer without her feeling cornered. Pope would take night watch over her house. He’d also be hanging out at the bar when she worked nights so he was close enough to track who paid too much attention to her.
He’d rotate guard duty with others on the team to allow for breaks to stay sharp.
“We’ve got a rookie coming on board who’ll be useful. Name’s Heath Hawk,” Colt added.
Pope lifted a brow. “Ex-military?”
Oaks nodded. “Among other things. He’ll run backup for you and help cover some shifts until you’re both up to speed.”
Colt issued a low sound. “Damn, this is a sweet first gig. I don’t remember my first job being assigned to hang out at the bar.”
Oaks snorted. “Pretty sure yours involved some fancy schmoozing of a travel concierge—who is now in your bed every night.”
With a cocky sigh, Colt stretched his arm along the sofa back again. “Yeah, I did get the girl.”
Pope felt the corner of his mouth lift before he could stop it.
The first chuckle came from Colt and Oaks’s followed. Carson shook his head, but even he appeared amused.
Pope felt a strange shift under his ribs. Suddenly, he felt part of a group—different from the vets in the program, though no more important. He could get used to this.
Then his gaze dropped to the folder in front of him, taking in Summer’s name printed across the tab, and all lightness vanished.
This wasn’t a sweet first gig, not to him.
He set his palm flat on the folder. Whatever was following her had made its first mistake.
It stepped into Pope’s path.
* * * * *
Beanie-weenies probably wasn’t what a person made when their life started spiraling into possible stalker territory. But it was what Summer had planned, what Ben liked and what could stretch into leftovers if she added enough beans.
The pot simmered on the stove while she cut up hot dogs at the counter, listening to Ben in the living room making explosion noises with his action figures and the television playing low in the background.
The little duplex smelled like tomato sauce and onions and the lemon cleaner she used on the counters. Completely normal.
Except it wasn’t.
How had her easy life morphed into stabbed tires and mysterious groceries, or the fact that Black Heart Security apparently intended to insert themselves into her life whether she could afford them or not?
Not to mention, her chest still tightened every time she remembered Willow announcing casually to the entire table that Vander had a “Summer problem.”
If he wished things were different too, it meant she wasn’t the only one struggling to let go.
She dumped the sliced hot dogs into the pot and stirred hard enough to splash sauce up the spoon.
“Mom?” Ben called. “Can we have cheese on top?”
They had a kitchen full of food. Food she wasn’t sure she wanted to use. Not because she thought it was dangerous, but because accepting it felt like accepting a debt she never agreed to owe.
“I’ll see if we have any.”
She crossed to the refrigerator and pulled open the door, already knowing there were three different kinds of cheese inside.
Courtesy of the delivery.
Her gaze settled on the packages lined neatly on the shelf.
The groceries weren’t evidence of a threat. Not yet. For all she knew, they came from a church group, a neighbor or someone who saw a single mother struggling and wanted to help.
So why did looking at them leave such a bad taste in her mouth?
Mind made up and in hope of giving Ben something to smile about, she grabbed the cheese and attacked the package with too much force.
She was about to sprinkle cheese on top of the concoction when Granny Helen’s voice cracked through the window Summer had opened.
“I got a gun and it’s pointed at your midsection!”
Summer froze.
Ben appeared in the kitchen doorway, eyes wide.
She dropped the spoon into the pot and rushed for the front door so fast her socks slid on the worn linoleum floor.
“Granny?” She yanked open the door and jerked to a halt.
Granny Helen stood on the neighboring porch in pink slippers and a quilted robe with a shotgun leveled at Carson Malone and Vander.
Oh god. Was this her life now?
Carson had both hands slightly raised, his expression more amused than concerned. Vander stood beside him in jeans and a sexy dark thermal, one shoulder angled protectively toward the house like he would take a bullet for her.
Her breath caught, and her heart began to trip at an unsteady rhythm that made her feel dizzy.
Granny didn’t lower the shotgun.
“What’s going on?” Summer managed to get out.
“Told these boys I don’t care how pretty they are, I’ll still ventilate ‘em.”
Carson’s mouth twitched. Vander looked entirely too calm for a man staring down the barrel of a shotgun.
Summer hurried forward. “Granny, it’s okay.”
She narrowed her eyes, darts of suspicion shooting from the brown depths. “You know ‘em?”
“Yes.”
The shotgun dipped an inch. “Well. That changes things slightly.”
Ben’s face popped up in the screen door as he tried to sneak a peek.