CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR #2
Pierce just stared at his friend. “Can this situation get any worse?”
Ray tilted his head. “Well, let’s just say that this news doesn’t help things.”
“What happened?”
“Dr. Marwood—the one Colonel Reed was talking about.”
“Yeah. What about him?”
“He was found dead in his penthouse in San Francisco.”
Pierce went still, a hard jolt of shock and unease hitting him at once as the full weight of Ray’s words settled in.
“I’m guessing he was murdered.”
Ray nodded. “Bullet to the head. His housekeeper found him yesterday in his office.”
“Suspects?” Pierce asked, though he already knew the answer.
“No.”
A beat of silence settled over the table.
Then Pierce’s phone rang. The sound sliced through the room, sharp and jarring. Pierce’s gaze dropped to the screen.
Ace.
He knew that Alex was probably beside herself after hearing what had taken place.
He excused himself and stepped outside on the back porch.
“Ace,” Pierce answered.
“We heard. How’s Charley?”
He leaned against the railing. “About as good as expected. I think being away from the hospital, and all everything is starting to hit her.”
“I bet,” Ace said with a sigh. “No updates on the shooter?”
“No. Nothing yet.”
“Is she at your place?”
“Yeah. She’s in the shower right now.”
“Good. Keep her safe.”
Pierce spent the next couple of minutes updating Ace with information that he hadn’t known yet. He promised to have Charley call Alex once she settled.
When he ended the call, he exhaled slowly.
Behind him, the back door opened.
Ray stepped outside quietly and held out a beer. “Figured you’d need it,” he said.
Pierce took it automatically. He didn’t open it yet. He just held it.
Ray leaned against the porch railing beside him. They stood in silence for a moment, shoulder to shoulder, looking out at the backyard like they were back overseas watching a perimeter.
After a beat, Ray spoke. His head was slightly tilted. “How are you doing with all this?”
Pierce let out a humorless breath. “Not sure how to answer that either.”
Ray didn’t push immediately. He just waited. Pierce appreciated that.
His fingers tightened around the beer bottle. “I’m pissed,” he said finally. “And I’m worried. And I…” He paused, the words catching. “I was scared as hell when you told me there’d been a shooting and Charley was involved.”
Ray glanced at him, expression steady. “I could tell.”
Pierce swallowed hard, the memory hitting him like a shockwave. “I haven’t felt that kind of fear since Afghanistan.”
Ray’s gaze sharpened. “The mission you almost didn’t come home from.”
Pierce nodded once, jaw clenching. “Yeah. That one.”
Ray let the silence sit for a second, then asked, quieter now, “You really like her.”
It wasn’t a question.
Pierce’s mouth curved slightly, but there was no humor in it. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I do.”
Ray watched him. “More than like.”
Pierce didn’t answer right away. He stared out into the dark, hearing Charley’s sobs against his chest earlier, seeing that fucking bandage wrapped around her arm.
“She got through to me,” Pierce said finally, voice lower. “I don’t even know how. I didn’t let people in after Brittany. I didn’t want to. And then Charley just appears out of nowhere, so unexpectedly, and makes the impossible happen.”
Ray’s brows lifted slightly. “Brittany,” he said, like he was testing the name. “That’s a big comparison.”
“It’s not the same,” Pierce said immediately.
He turned his head, eyes narrowing as if he could argue the past into submission.
“I loved Brittany, sure. I did. But looking back…” He exhaled, almost angry at himself.
“She loved the status. The attention. Being a SEAL’s wife on paper.
She played supportive while she wanted it, and the second it got hard, and it didn’t benefit her, she showed her true colors. ”
Ray’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes held understanding. He had seen it. The whole team had.
“But Charley?” Pierce continued, the words coming more easily now, like saying them out loud finally gave them shape.
“Charley’s real. She doesn’t pretend. She doesn’t need the spotlight.
She understands what this life is because she’s lived it from the other side.
She’s lost people to it. She gets the sacrifices without me having to explain them. And she still chooses to be here.”
Ray’s mouth tugged at the corner, amusement beginning to creep in.
Pierce noticed and frowned. “What?”
Ray took a slow sip of his beer, eyes glinting. “Nothing.”
“No,” Pierce said, narrowing his eyes. “Say it.”
Ray set the bottle down on the railing. “So you’ve fallen in love with her.”
Pierce opened his mouth immediately, ready to deny it, to snap back with something sarcastic, to shove the words back into Ray’s face.
But the denial caught in his throat. Because he had basically already said it out loud.
He stared at Ray, then looked away.
Ray’s grin widened. “Ohhh,” he said, delighted. “That face. That right there is the face of a man who just realized he’s done for.”
Pierce scoffed, but there was no real bite in it. “Shut up.”
Ray laughed, the sound cutting through the heaviness like a blade of light. “What? I’m just saying. A Navy SEAL saves a damsel in distress on the high seas—”
“It was not the high, rough seas,” Pierce muttered, rubbing his forehead. “It was calm that day.”
Ray waved a hand, as if the details didn’t matter. “Same thing. Your tragic hero arc is in full swing.”
Pierce shook his head, but despite everything, a rough chuckle slipped out. It felt strange in his chest, like he hadn’t laughed in hours.
Then he sobered again, gaze dropping to the beer bottle in his hand.
“I do love her,” he admitted quietly. “And I’ll do whatever it takes to protect her.”
Ray’s grin faded into something steadier. He nodded once, a soldier’s promise. “We all will. You know that.”
Pierce held Ray’s gaze. “Yeah,” he said. “I know.”
The back door opened again.
Jessica stepped out, arms folded loosely as she looked between them. “Hate to interrupt the brooding and the romance novel banter,” she said dryly, “but Charley’s aunt and uncle just arrived.”
Pierce straightened immediately, the humor evaporating as responsibility snapped back into place. He set the beer down untouched and nodded once.
And as he followed Jessica back inside, Pierce’s mind was already on one thing—getting Charley through tonight, keeping her surrounded by people who cared, and making damn sure whoever had targeted Calvin Henderson didn’t get the chance to come for her next.
As Pierce entered the kitchen, the room looked exactly as it had a few minutes ago—same table, same familiar faces—except now two new people were standing near the counter, and the entire energy of the house shifted with their presence.
Charley’s Uncle Glen and Aunt Bea.
Charley had talked about them often enough that Pierce felt like he already knew them in a way, but seeing them in person—the worry written plain on their faces—made something tighten in his chest.
Bea was a little on the taller side, her hair pulled back, her eyes bright with a mix of fear. Glen was taller, broader through the shoulders, with a posture deceptively calm, like the kind of man who had learned long ago to keep his emotions locked down until he was alone.
Pierce could spot that familiar military posture a mile away.
Glen’s gaze snapped to him the second he stepped into the kitchen. The worry there was obvious, but so was the assessment. The silent Who are you to her? Can I trust you? question in the way he held himself.
Pierce walked straight to him, no hesitation, and offered his hand.
“Glen?” he asked.
Glen’s grip was firm. The kind of handshake that wasn’t about dominance, but about measurement. He held Pierce’s eyes for a second as they shook.
“Pierce,” Glen said. Not a question. A statement.
“Yes, sir.”
That earned Pierce the faintest flicker of approval. Barely there, but real.
Then Bea moved in before Glen could say anything else, and she hugged Pierce like she had known him longer than a handful of weeks.
It caught him off guard, not in a bad way.
More like it hit him right in the chest with the reminder that this wasn’t just some casual situation.
This was family, showing up in the middle of the night because someone they loved had been thrown into chaos again.
“Thank you,” Bea said softly against his shoulder. “For being with her.”
Pierce’s throat tightened. He nodded and stepped back gently. “Of course.”
Jessica moved toward them with that calm, competent energy she always had when things got heavy. “I’m really glad you made it,” she said, placing a hand briefly on Bea’s arm. “I’m sorry it had to be like this.”
Bea’s eyes were already glossy. “Thank you for calling,” she said. “Truly. I… I didn’t want her going through something like this alone.”
Glen’s jaw flexed once as he glanced toward the hallway. “Where is she?” he asked, voice controlled but tight underneath.
Pierce answered before anyone else could. “She’s in my room,” he said. “Taking a shower.”
“How is she?” Glen asked.
Pierce kept his voice steady. “Besides the graze on her arm, physically, she’s okay. She did need a few stitches.”
“And the shooting?” Glen pressed, eyes narrowing slightly.
Pierce gave them the cliff notes. Not the full play-by-play, not the part that would make Bea’s knees buckle. Just enough to let them understand the shape of it.
“The police think Calvin was the target, not Charley, but she was right there. She stayed with him. They got him to surgery. He made it through the operation, but he’s still critical.”
Bea’s face crumpled for a second, and she shook her head like she couldn’t process it. “That poor man. And Charley…” Her voice broke slightly. “After everything she’s already been through.”