Chapter Five #3
The words hit him like a shot of electricity straight to his core. For months he’d been in limbo—not quite broken, not quite whole. Now, officially, he was neither patient nor outsider. He was part of the team.
When he stepped out of the infirmary, he was feeling better than he had in months. The tests were going well. Maybe he actually had a shot at—
Something slammed into his chest hard enough to knock the breath out of him. His reflexes kicked in automatically, hands shooting up to catch the object before it could hit the ground.
Sparring gear.
“Good reflexes,” Theo called over his shoulder to the other brothers, who had gathered in the hallway like spectators at a gladiator match.
“You have to spar with Colt.” Theo nodded toward the Malone brother who was rumored to have brutal skill when it came to hand-to-hand combat.
Colt stepped forward and Decker sized him up. The man was built like a linebacker, with the kind of reach that could end a fight before it started.
He had to wonder if the glare was partly because Carson told him about him kissing their sister.
“Get ready to prove your worth.” Theo folded his arms, looking between them.
Without saying a word, Colt performed an about-face that would make seasoned drill sergeants weep with pride and walked off to the gym.
The thump of boots provided a cadence that calmed Decker more with every step. When they passed the library, he burned to glance in and see if Willow was still working, but he forced himself to stare straight ahead at his opponent’s stiff spine.
They entered the gym, bypassing the equipment and going straight for the open mats.
Colt moved to the center, and the rest of the brothers crowded around the perimeter to watch.
“Colt’s the best,” Theo called out.
“I’m sure he is.” Decker pulled on the chest protector, then looked up at Colt with a slight smile. “But I’m better.”
The brothers exchanged glances, and Decker caught the flash of approval in their eyes. They liked the confidence. Good. Because he was about to back it up.
The sparring match was brutal and brief. Colt came at him hard and fast, but Decker had been trained by the best fighters in the world.
He used Colt’s size against him, landing quick strikes before dancing out of range.
The guys started cheering, taking turns rooting for their brother or for Decker. Colt swiped his leg out from under him, and he crashed to the mat, the breath punching from his lungs.
“Damn, I thought Decker had him,” Denver commented.
Then he reared up and ripped Colt off his feet.
The man slammed to the mat beside him, and Decker got Colt in a chokehold that forced him to tap out.
The room erupted in appreciative whoops.
“Not bad.” Colt rolled and sprang to his feet like a swift rabbit. He pulled off his headgear with a rueful grin. “Remind me not to piss you off.”
Denver stepped forward as Decker stripped off his gear. “You passed. But you’ve got one more test.”
What if he didn’t pass the tests? He’d been out of the military for a while, but he didn’t think he was that rusty.
He could take a hell of a lot more. Pushups? No challenge at all. Two hundred sit-ups? He could do those in his sleep.
What happened if he didn’t make it onto the team?
He’d still guard Willow.
He could only guess at what awaited him as he followed Decker out of the lodge and across the snowy patch of ground to the security office tacked on to the sprawling ranch house.
The scent of something baking wafted on the air currents, switching the spotlight in his mind onto Willow again.
She liked to bake. For months, she’d been perfecting a blueberry muffin recipe, and the vets were her taste testers.
Her first efforts were the consistency of cement with blueberries that threatened the enamel on their teeth.
But her latest batch had been light and fluffy, and they’d devoured the entire tray.
Denver led the way into what they called the war room. Decker could see why—it was set up like all the others he’d seen, with monitors on the wall and high-tech gadgets on a low cabinet along one wall.
Denver pointed to the computer terminal in the corner of the office, the screen displaying what looked like a complex security system interface.
“Get into this system,” Denver said. “You’ve got five minutes.”
He sank into the seat, fingers hovering over the keys. He studied the screen for maybe thirty seconds. Then his fingers flew across the keyboard as he identified the encryption protocols and found the back door he needed. Two minutes later—okay, maybe it was three—he was in.
Denver stared at the screen in disbelief. “How the hell did you do that?”
“Read a book on it.” Decker shrugged, as if breaking into military-grade security systems was something he did for fun.
Denver shook his head. “Unbelievable. What exactly did you do on your team?”
He shot him a grin. “Classified.”
Denver snorted, and Theo outright laughed.
“One more thing.”
Carson appeared at Decker’s shoulder. The patriarch of the family looked satisfied, but there was something else in his expression. Something that looked almost like relief.
“What’s that?”
“Go talk to Rhae.”
The weight of those four words settled over Decker. This wasn’t just about joining the team anymore. This was about officially ending his time as a patient…and beginning his new life as part of the Black Heart Security family.
As part of Willow’s world.
He found himself nodding, anticipation and nervousness warring in his chest. “When?”
“Now.” Carson stepped back, clearing the way to the door. “She’s expecting you.”
On the way out, Decker looked each brother in the eye and nodded as a show of respect to what he hoped would soon be his new brothers.
As he walked toward the therapy building, his mind still reeled from everything that happened in the past few hours. The kiss with Willow, the tests, the prospect of finally, officially, being more than just another broken soldier trying to put himself back together.
For the first time since arriving at the ranch, he felt like he might actually get a shot at the life he wanted but didn’t deserve.
He stopped outside Rhae’s door and took a deep breath.
Time to make it official.