Chapter Thirteen
When Pope climbed out of his truck, he took a step toward the therapy lodge out of habit. He stopped and turned back toward the Black Heart Security office.
The scents of the mountains and ranch life were familiar, but getting called into meetings as a member of the security team wasn’t.
In his experience, meetings usually meant trouble. More stress stretched between his shoulder blades with each step he took.
He paused at the door, bracing himself for whatever new development came in on Summer’s case.
Or worse—for Summer’s prediction that Pope was being removed from her case to come true since there was nothing new.
Spring was hiding beneath a chill mountain wind that tugged at his hat as he pulled open the office door. Half the team already crowded around the large conference table covered in files and photographs.
Then Pope noticed the unfamiliar woman standing beside Carson.
Dark hair brushed her shoulders in sleek waves, and her camel-colored coat hung neatly over the back of a chair like she planned on flying back to whatever big city she came from the instant the meeting ended.
As she noticed him, her sharp brown eyes tracked him with calm intelligence that told him this woman noticed what everyone else missed.
He dipped his head to her in acknowledgement and shifted his attention to Carson. Judging by his tight expression, he was in for a rough hour.
Carson saw him and motioned toward the woman. “This is Alexandra Navarro. She’s the new profiler for the team. Theo convinced her to take the position.”
She gave a small nod. “Most just call me Lex.”
“Good to meet you.” He strode forward to shake her hand. “Welcome to the team.”
“We’re trying to convince her to move to the area next,” Theo spoke up from behind a laptop screen.
“I’m planning to work from New York for now.” She offered Pope a smile.
“She doesn’t realize yet that Wyoming’s superior.” Carson piled a few papers into a neat stack and set them aside.
Gray glanced up from the end of the table, looking personally offended. “It’s not as if we don’t have culture. We’ve got a brewery.”
Lex’s gaze bounced between everyone, amusement on her face. If any other woman existed in the world for Pope, he might think she was pretty in a polished way, but it was the shrewdness in her eyes that really commanded attention.
“Don’t forget sunrise yoga here on the ranch,” Willow said as she breezed in carrying a coffee mug speckled with little geese.
Lex pressed a hand dramatically to her chest. “Well now I’m tempted.”
A few quiet laughs rippled around the room, but Pope’s posture didn’t ease, especially when Carson didn’t join in.
Pope yanked out a chair a little too hard, and the legs grated on the hardwood. He dropped into it and waited for the bomb to drop.
Carson gathered the photos scattered in front of him and passed them to Pope. “When Theo wasn’t eloping in Vegas, he spent time in New York City interviewing Summer’s ex.”
Every muscle across his shoulders snapped tight. “And?” His voice came out gritty.
Theo grimaced. “The guy’s a moron.”
“That narrows everything down. Might as well close the case.” Denver’s comment brought a snort from Theo, but Pope clenched his fists.
Theo noticed and gave him a direct look. “He’s bouncing around the East Coast living off women and odd jobs. He calls himself a hobo sexual.”
Lex blinked once. Slowly. “I’ve heard a lot in my career, but that’s new for me.”
Disgust rolled through Pope’s chest.
Theo’s expression echoed the sentiment. “Said he couldn’t commit to Summer, let alone a kid, so it was better they never take those vows. Claimed he couldn’t love, honor and obey, forsaking all others.”
A low growl escaped Pope before he could stop it. He dragged a hand over his jaw, battling the surge of anger moving like lava through his bloodstream. He wanted to fly to New York City just to put his fist through the guy’s face.
Summer and Ben deserved so much better than some selfish asshole who treated them like temporary inconveniences.
The worst of his temper cooled enough to listen to the rest of Theo’s evaluation.
Theo spread his hands. “Point is, I’m one thousand percent sure this guy has nothing to do with the threats.”
Carson nodded once. “From what I’ve seen, I agree.”
“So we’re back to the drawing board,” Willow muttered.
Lex’s high heels tapped the floor as she moved to the table and picked up the photos as if her experience alone could determine whether their findings were correct.
She set aside the photos and focused on Pope with an unnerving directness.
“Unless these threats aren’t really about Summer.”
He narrowed his eyes.
She folded her arms and began to pace, her stilettos click-click-clicking as she moved from one side of the table to the other. “Everyone in this room is operating under the assumption that Summer is the intended target.” She glanced around the table. “My job is to challenge assumptions.”
He fixed her in his stare. “Keep talkin’.”
“The tire, the groceries, the timing of your assignment. I wanted to determine whether the incidents centered on Summer or whether she was simply the most accessible way to get to someone else.”
“That someone being Pope,” Carson said.
Lex nodded. “From what I’ve heard, it’s no secret around here that you took an interest in Summer at the bar.”
“That’s true.”
“And it’s easy enough for someone with the right resources to track you to the Black Heart Ranch.”
He dipped his head in agreement.
“You’re former military. Your last operation in Baghdad created potential exposure points, so I started there. Surviving family members, known associates, anyone with a possible reason to come after you.”
She glanced at her notes. “I found nothing actionable. No indications anyone connected to Baghdad has the resources, access or interest to target you now.”
Lex looked around the room. “Which leaves the stronger probability that Summer was always the intended target.”
A heavy silence settled over the room.
Pope exhaled slowly.
Only Carson had read his file. But if he was part of the team he needed to be open with them and answer the questions clear on their faces.
He braced his forearms on the table, head bowed as the old guilt that landed him on this ranch in the first place clawed up his spine. “I was guarding a diplomat at an embassy in Baghdad.”
Every gaze focused on him.
“It was a dinner meeting. The man started gasping for air.” He swallowed as his own throat constricted with the memory. The room blurred as the old helplessness burned his chest.
“I tried to save him. But he died.” His voice pitched low.
Nobody moved or spoke. Pope stared at the windows but didn’t see the mountains beyond. “Later, the wife shot herself.” His jaw locked hard. “Left two kids orphaned.”
The silence afterward hung heavy.
Denver finally leaned back slowly in his chair. “I’ve heard similar stories from my time as a SEAL.”
Pope looked over.
Denver nodded grimly. “Lex is right. There could be political fallout. Family left looking for somebody to blame.”
Lex scribbled notes quickly now, her expression solemn. “I’ll start pulling embassy personnel records, studying surviving family connections, behavioral patterns, online chatter. I’ll compile a profile and see what fits.”
Carson nodded once. “Good.”
The meeting dissolved after that, conversations breaking into smaller groups as they grabbed coffee or checked phones. Pope stayed seated another minute, trying to shove Baghdad back into the locked place inside him where it usually stayed.
Then he got up and headed for the Stockyard. Summer was there. And she’d become his only peace.
The familiar warmth and noise of the bar wrapped around him the second he stepped inside. Country music rolled through the lunch rush and customers laughed over chicken wings and beer.
He picked out Summer across the room, carrying drinks to tables. The warmth from the lights highlighted the shine of her hair. The second she noticed him near the doorway, her expression softened in the way that did dangerous things to his chest every damn time.
Pope settled onto a stool near the end of the bar, keeping one eye on the room.
“You okay?” she asked quietly when she passed him.
“Yeah.”
Not entirely true. But being near her helped. It felt like he could draw a full breath again after the meeting.
A familiar voice sounded farther down the bar.
“Well damn. Didn’t know the Black Heart Ranch let their guys stop working long enough to enjoy a beer.”
Pope looked over and recognized the truck driver.
Gary Crowe lifted his beer in greeting. “Good to see ya, cowboy.”
Pope thumbed his hat in greeting. “Back for the auction?”
Gary nodded. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
Pope leaned one arm against the bar. “I’ll be there with a horse.”
“The black one?” Gary asked.
“Yeah.”
“That’s a good animal.”
Summer slowed, pretending not to listen as she wiped down the counter.
Pope glanced toward her. “You should come,” he said quietly.
Her brows lifted slightly. “To the auction?”
“Ben’s gone for the week.” He shrugged one shoulder casually even though he already knew he wanted her there beside him. “Might be fun.”
Gary laughed into his beer. “That’s the most romantic invitation I ever heard.”
Summer smiled despite herself and Pope ignored the comment entirely.
Truth was, he didn’t care what they did. Auction, errands or sitting on the couch watching terrible television, as long as she was there beside him, it all felt like he’d come home.
* * * * *
Summer leaned against the counter, phone tucked against her ear, listening to Ben talking a mile a minute from inside the RV parked near the Grand Canyon. Each little chirp of excitement in his voice brought a smile to her face and a pang of missing him to her heart.
“And then Grandpa said we could walk farther but Grandma said he was gonna throw his back out trying to impress tourists.”
Her dad’s offended voice floated faintly through the speaker. “I heard that!”
Ben only cackled.