Chapter 3
CALEB
By the third morning, I had her routine memorized. Because once Lone Star assigned me to her detail, nothing about her life was allowed to be casual anymore. Every light that flipped on, every door that opened, every shadow that moved across her windows became something I tracked.
I sat in my truck across the street from her house, my coffee cooling in my travel tumbler, radio murmuring low, my eyes never still. The sun was just starting to climb, throwing pale gold across the rooftops and fences.
For a moment, she just stood there. Then she looked straight at me. There was no surprise in her eyes this time. No irritation, either. Just awareness. The quiet understanding that whatever had started between us as neighbors was no longer that simple.
I got out of the truck and crossed the street.
“You’re early.” She exhaled, shifting her weight, her gaze sliding past me to the quiet street and back again. “Are you following me to work now too?”
“I’m driving you today.”
Her mouth pressed into a thin line. “I have a perfectly good car.”
“I know.”
Based on the way she studied me, I could see the argument forming in her head. I could also see the exhaustion weighing on her shoulders and the way she stood like she was bracing for another long day before it even started.
“You’re controlling,” she said.
“I’m careful.”
“That sounds like the same thing.”
She hesitated, then shook her head and walked past me toward my truck. “One day. That’s it. I’m not doing this forever.”
I opened the passenger door for her. She paused, then climbed in, setting her coffee in the cup holder and smoothing her scrubs over her thighs.
When I slid into the driver’s seat, the cab felt different with her inside. The scent hit me first. Leather from the seats. Coffee from the cup holders. And her… all clean skin, warm, faintly sweet in a way that had nothing to do with soap.
I tightened my grip on the steering wheel and pulled away from the curb.
Her hand brushed mine when we both reached for our coffee at the same time. It was barely anything. An accident. A fraction of a second. But my body registered it like a warning shot.
She stilled, glancing down, then back up at the windshield like nothing had happened. Tension tightened her shoulders and her fingers squeezed her coffee cup.
Fuck… My jaw clenched.
The drive to the hospital passed in a heavy, thoughtful silence. She watched the road, tapping her thumb against her leg. I watched the mirrors and the traffic and the reflection of her in the glass.
Every time she glanced at me, I felt it. Her gaze lingered just a beat too long. If I touched her, I wouldn’t stop. The thought hit me out of nowhere, sharp and unwelcome. I forced my attention back to the road, breathing slow and steady like I’d been trained.
Her phone buzzed once. She ignored it.
“You’re not going to answer that?” I asked.
“If it’s work, they can wait.”
It wasn’t work. Lone Star had flagged the number the second it hit her phone. The call was from a burner. The same contact Lucas had been dodging.
She glanced at me. “You never turn it off, do you? That look you get. You’re always somewhere else.”
“I’m right here.”
Her gaze drifted over me, slow and thoughtful. “You’re not normal.”
That comment almost earned her a smile. I’d been called a hell of a lot worse. I could deal with “not normal.” Hell, it was practically a compliment.
At the hospital entrance, I parked and walked her to the doors.
“You can’t come inside,” she said.
“I’m not planning to.”
“Good.”
I stopped in front of her, close enough to see the faint shadows under her eyes. Close enough to notice the soft curve of her mouth when she worried her bottom lip between her teeth. My hand flexed at my side, but I stopped myself from reaching for her.
“Text me when your shift ends,” I said.
Her eyes flicked to my mouth before lifting back to my eyes. The awareness between us tightened, stretched thin as wire.
“Do you always tell women what to do?”
“Only when it keeps them breathing.”
She shook her head. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re stubborn.”
That earned me a tired huff of a laugh. “You noticed.”
I stepped back before the moment stretched into something I couldn’t afford. “Don’t leave the building, not even to step outside. Be safe and call me if you need me.”
She held my gaze for a long beat, then turned and disappeared inside.
I stayed there longer than I should have, watching the doors until they slid shut.
While Marisol was at work, I sat in the parking lot and got updates on the case.
I wasn’t the only Lone Star agent involved.
Gray had a guy following Lucas and another tracking that damn sedan that I’d seen parked down the road the other night.
One of our guys had followed it to an industrial park on the north side of Valor Springs.
As I sipped my coffee, Lone Star’s feed lit up with activity. According to the app we’d installed on Lucas’s phone, he’d missed two calls. A text came through with a pinned location.
The thugs he’d been working for weren’t asking anymore. They were losing patience. Which meant Lucas was about to be forced into a choice or punished for refusing to make one. The walls were closing in, and I’d be damned if I let Marisol get caught between them.
She stepped out of the hospital just after six, her shoulders sagging the second she spotted my truck waiting at the curb.
The heat from the day radiated off the pavement, and she looked like she’d been carrying the weight of the whole day on her shoulders.
Her hair fell in loose waves around her face, and the exhaustion in her eyes went deeper than just needing a couple of hours of extra sleep.
“You’re really doing this,” she said as she opened the door and climbed inside.
“Yes.”
She dropped her purse at her feet and leaned back against the seat. “Are you planning on following me everywhere now?”
“Yes.”
She let out a long breath and shook her head, staring out the window as I pulled away from the curb. “I’m not your problem, Caleb. I don’t belong to you.”
“You belong alive.”
She turned toward me then, her expression sharp and searching, like she was trying to decide whether to be angry or grateful or something in between. “You make it sound so simple.”
“It isn’t,” I said. “But I’m damn good at my job.”
The drive home was quiet, the kind of silence that settles in when too much has already been said.
The sun dipped lower over the rooftops, the heat still lingering in the air, and the town moved at its usual unhurried pace.
Kids rode bikes in the street. A couple sat on their porch with sweet tea. Someone grilled in a backyard nearby.
All of it looked peaceful. That was what made it dangerous.
When we pulled into her driveway, Lucas was already waiting on the porch. His arms were crossed tight against his chest, his jaw set in a way that told me he’d been working himself into something for a while before we arrived.
I nodded at the agent who’d been tracking Lucas all day to let him know I could handle things from here.
Marisol tensed. “What’s wrong?”
Lucas’s gaze snapped to me. “I told you he was gonna screw things up.”
“Lucas,” she warned, the edge in her voice sharp with nerves.
“You think he’s here to help? He’s here because someone told him to watch us.”
I stepped out of the truck slowly, keeping my movements calm and measured. “That’s not how this works.”
“You don’t know how it works,” Lucas shot back. “You just think you do.”
Marisol moved toward him. “That’s enough. What happened?”
Lucas hesitated, the brave face he’d been hiding behind faltering just long enough for the truth to leak through. “They came back.”
Marisol’s face went pale. “Who came back?”
“The guys from before. From the park.”
My spine went rigid. He’d been tailed all day. The only time he hadn’t had protection was while he was at school. “When?”
“Today at lunch.”
Marisol’s hand curled into a fist at her side. “What did they say?”
Lucas swallowed. “They said they were going to give me one last chance to fix things.”
The words hit her like a slap across the face. I saw it in the way her breath caught and the way her shoulders tightened.
“You don’t meet them again,” I said. “Don’t answer their calls. And for sure, you don’t go anywhere alone.”
“You’re not my dad,” Lucas snapped.
“No.” I took in a deep breath and faced him. “I’m the man standing between them and your sister.”
Lucas’s jaw clenched. He looked away, anger and fear tangling in his expression, then shoved past us into the house. He slammed the front door hard enough to rattle the frame.
Marisol stood there shaking, staring at the door like it might open again and swallow her whole.
“They’re watching us,” she whispered.
“Yes.”
She turned to me slowly, her eyes bright with fear. “You promised you’d keep us safe.”
“I will, but I can’t promise it won’t get worse before it gets better.”
For a moment, she looked like she might try to argue with me.
Then her expression softened, the fight draining out of her as the reality settled in.
I stepped closer, stopping just short of touching her.
Close enough that I could feel the tension radiating off her, close enough to see the fine worry lines between her brows.
“You should go inside,” I said, my voice soft.
She didn’t move. “Are we safe?”
“For now.”
Her mouth trembled. “For now isn’t comforting.”
“I know.”
She looked up at me then, and for a second the fear gave way to something quieter. Something that didn’t belong in a situation like this. Something that made my chest tighten and my mouth go dry.
“Why are you really here?” she asked.
“Because you need protection.”
Her gaze searched my face, lingering, trying to read between the lines. “That’s not the whole truth.”
I held her eyes. “It’s the only one I’m allowed to give.”
She nodded slowly, accepting the answer even if she didn’t like it. Then her attention shifted, following my line of sight down the street.
The dark sedan stopped at the end of the block, engine running, lights off, tucked just far enough into the shadows to pretend it belonged there.
Her breath stuttered. “Is that them?”
“Yes.” I shifted my stance without thinking, placing myself between her and the car. It was instinct, old training, and something more personal tangled together. “Go inside.”
She hesitated, her fingers brushing my arm as she stepped back into the doorway.
The street was quiet. The danger was no longer hiding. And neither was the pull between us.