Chapter Sixteen #2
The fury that had been building in Decker’s chest all night crystallized into cold, tactical focus. This was what he was trained for—finding targets, eliminating threats, bringing people home. The terror of losing Willow clawed at his insides, but he channeled it into something useful.
Finally, Carson crossed to the sofa and shook Theo awake. Then they were on the road again.
They took one of the old trucks that didn’t have any ties to the Black Heart Ranch or the security team.
When they arrived at Willowbrook Feed and Seed just after dawn broke, the old owner was already puttering around inside.
He paled to see three grim-faced men at his door, especially after they paid him a visit the previous night.
“We need to talk about Willow Malone,” Decker said without preamble.
“What happened to the order our sister came to pick up yesterday?” Carson stepped closer to the owner, using his size to get answers.
The owner sputtered. “I looked for it this morning. It’s not in the back room or on the loading dock. She picked it up.”
He took a menacing step toward the owner, when his earpiece crackled to life. Colt’s voice filled it, tight with tension. “He’s here. Cal just pulled into the parking lot.”
Decker’s blood turned to ice and fire simultaneously. He positioned himself near the front door, forcing his body to relax, to appear casual. Just another customer shopping for supplies.
When Cal walked in, their eyes met. Decker took in his appearance.
Jeans, heavy coat. Boots. Not strapped with any weapon he could see. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t packing.
If this man had laid one finger on Willow…
He pushed out a hot breath through his nose, forcing himself to calm down.
He gave Cal a simple nod of acknowledgment—man to man, veteran to veteran. Cal returned it and disappeared into the back room without a word.
Every muscle in Decker’s body wanted to follow him, to slam him against the wall and demand answers. But they needed confirmation first, needed to know where Willow was before they tipped their hand.
When Cal emerged again, Decker could see the subtle shift.
Twisting toward a shelf, Decker murmured into his comms. “He’s nervous.”
“Keep on him,” came Carson’s reply.
Decker pivoted to keep Cal in his peripheral vision, noting the way his eyes darted to the exits and the tension in his shoulders.
Keep it normal. Keep it friendly.
Decker gestured to the display by the register. “That honey any good?”
“It’s fine,” Cal said roughly, already moving away.
Decker grabbed a bag of chicken feed, maintaining the ruse. Through his earpiece, came Carson’s directive. “Ask him about something else. Keep him talking. Keep him away from the windows.”
“You work here long?” Decker called out.
“Long enough.” Cal started toward the back room again.
“Appreciate you helping Willow out the other day when we were picking up feed. She mentioned how nice it was that you loaded the truck for her.”
Cal froze for just a fraction of a second. “Yeah. No problem.”
Then he was gone into the back room, the door closing behind him with a soft whoosh.
The owner watched the exchange without a word, his face pale.
Decker paid for the feed they didn’t need and walked out slowly, deliberately. Across the parking lot, his gaze landed on Cal’s old truck and saw the brief flash of movement as Carson walked away.
The tracker had been placed.
Decker kept an eye out for Cal, but he seemed to be hiding in the store. When he slipped into the truck beside Carson, he whipped around to face his team leader.
“I can get the son of a bitch talkin’,” he growled.
“No. We need to know where Willow’s at first. We’re playing the long game here, Dutch.”
His use of his nickname was a hook to the SEAL inside him. An unspoken command he had no choice but to obey even if he didn’t already know it was for Willow’s safety.
He leaned forward, head in his hands. “I know he has her,” he groaned. “I want to kill the fucker.”
“We need to get Willow back first.” Not for the first time, Decker picked up the slight tremor in Carson’s voice when he spoke about his sister.
She’d only told him bits and pieces about her parents, but Decker knew that the kids only had each other to rely on, and it showed. The Malone family was as tight as any family he’d ever seen. The siblings stuck together through thick and thin.
Carson drove to a parking lot down the street from the feed store and parked in a far corner, next to Theo, both their engines idling. Carson brought the binoculars up again, watching Cal’s vehicle from a distance where Cal wouldn’t notice if he looked outside.
“Please let her be safe,” Decker muttered. “Please let us get there in time.”
Carson turned his head to eye him, an expression of understanding on his face. Thankfully, the man didn’t speak to him about feelings or intentions. Right now, Decker couldn’t think about anything but Willow.
After hours passed, Cal finally emerged from the store.
Decker snatched up the binoculars, every muscle locking in on the man they believed took Willow.
He panned across Cal’s face. His trained eye caught details that made his jaw clench.
The man was whistling.
Actually whistling.
He looked relaxed and happy in a way that made Decker’s trigger finger itch. And he was barely limping—nothing like the pronounced struggle he’d shown while loading feed two days before.
It had all been an act. The pain, the difficulty. Designed to make Willow drop her guard.
“Two minutes,” Carson said as Cal’s truck pulled onto the main road. “We follow two minutes behind so he can’t spot us.”
Those two minutes felt like goddamn days. Decker’s fingers ached from being tightly fisted. He brought one fist to his lips and pressed until he tasted blood.
Nothing could keep his mind from conjuring every terrible scenario. What if they were too late? What if Cal had already hurt her? What if—
Finally, Carson pulled out with Theo on their tail. Within a half mile, Colt joined them, the trucks traveling in a tight convoy as they tracked that little blinking red light that was Cal’s truck on the winding road leading out of town, up into the mountains.
“Speed up,” Decker grated out.
“We stick to the plan, Dutch.”
After an interminable length of time, the red dot turned onto what was only a shadow of a jagged line on the map.
“You know that driveway, Colt?” Carson asked.
Colt’s voice came through the comms. “Yeah. It’s overgrown. Never explored it.”
They parked on the road and approached on foot.
The instant Decker spotted the abandoned hunting cabin, his gut clenched and adrenaline rocketed up like a geyser.
The place looked like it hadn’t been occupied in years—perfect for a squatter who didn’t want to be found.
“Two take the front, two take the back,” Carson said quietly, falling into tactical formation. “Decker—”
“You’re with me. We take the back.” Decker took one look at that dilapidated door and his instincts prickled with the knowledge that it was the fastest route to the woman he loved more than air.
Carson gave him a brisk nod.
They moved silently through the trees, weapons at the ready, circling around to the rear of the cabin. Decker spotted a carport near the edge of the clearing. He jerked his head toward it, and Carson took in the distinctive shape of Willow’s truck hidden under a tarp, the black fender peeking out.
His heart hammered against his ribs.
She was here. She had to be here.
If they weren’t too late.
They exchanged a look and rushed the house.
At Carson’s signal, they breached simultaneously. Theo and Colt crashed through the front door, and Decker kicked in the back hard enough to tear it off its hinges.
Cal was on his feet instantly, reaching for something on the table. A rifle.
Decker’s training took over.
Then Willow’s sharp cry came from his right.
But Cal already had Decker in his sights and his finger on the trigger.
Red fury hazed his vision. In that second, he almost shot the bastard between the eyes. But he couldn’t predict what Cal would do. He couldn’t risk her taking a bullet.
In three strides, Decker rushed Cal, knocking him off-balance. He slammed his pistol into his nose and heard bone crack, then used the momentum to shove him face-first into the floor.
“I should put a fucking bullet in your brain.” The words came out like gravel, like violence barely contained.
“Decker.” Willow’s voice, weak but alive, wobbled.
Every instinct screamed at him to go to her, to gather her up and make sure she was okay. But his number one priority was neutralizing the threat. If Cal got free, if he had a weapon they’d missed, Willow would be in more danger.
He drove his knee into Cal’s spine, keeping him pinned while Carson moved in with zip ties.
Cal struggled, legs flailing.
“Keep moving and you die,” Decker rasped. “And I will make it slow.”
Only when Cal was secured with his hands and feet bound, and Colt had the weapon cleared, did Decker allow himself to look at Willow.
She was chained to the floor, her ankle raw and bleeding, her face white as a sheet. But she was alive. Breathing. Watching him with those gray eyes that had haunted his waking nightmares all night.
He rushed to her side and his knees hit the floor. Carefully, he reached for her, aware that she could be so deep in her mind that she could push him away.
“D-Decker.”
He let out a puff of air and gathered her gently to his chest. “I’ve got you.”
She clasped onto his shirt and clung to him. Her ankle was a mess. Jostling the chain at all would cause her more pain.
He cupped Willow’s beautiful face. “Theo? That son of a bitch have a key on him?”
“Be happy to check.” A few thumps sounded as her brother roughed up the bastard who’d kidnapped their sister. After a few grunts and groans, they located a key in Cal’s pocket, and Theo held it out to Decker.
As efficiently as possible with his hands shaking, he worked the lock on the chain.
“I knew you’d come,” she whispered.
“Always.” The word was a vow, a promise he’d keep for the rest of his life.
Theo and Colt hauled Cal out to the truck while Carson called the police. Decker lifted Willow in his arms and carried her out of that nightmarish cabin into the clean mountain air.
Her truck was where he’d seen it, hidden under the tarp in the carport. How Cal got it here after kidnapping Willow was still a mystery to be determined. Whether he used an ATV or walked all the way to town to fetch the vehicle didn’t matter.
Her brothers could take care of the truck. Right now, all that mattered was getting Willow home.
The drive back to the ranch was silent except for Willow’s occasional shaky breath. Decker kept one hand on her the entire time, needing the physical contact to ground him, to prove that she was safe.
They arrived at the house to shock and cries from all the women. Aspen rushed out of the room for the first-aid kit, and Shiloh darted off to collect extra blankets.
When they reached their room, he set Willow down gently on the bed and started checking her over with clinical precision—the same way he’d assessed injuries in the field, except this time his hands were shaking.
Her stare was fixed on his face, watching every nuance of his expression. “I’m okay. Decker, I’m okay.”
But he couldn’t let down his guard. Couldn’t shake the image of that chain around her ankle, especially with the raw wounds she’d obviously sustained trying to get free.
His throat worked. He’d almost lost her.
“I should have been here,” he said roughly. “Should have trusted my instincts about him. Should have—”
“You found me.” Her hand cupped his face, forcing him to meet her eyes. “You found me, and you brought me home. That’s what matters.”
But as he pulled her close, feeling her heartbeat against his chest, Decker knew it would be a long time before he stopped seeing that cabin in his nightmares.
A long time before he stopped being terrified of losing her again.