Chapter 6
SIX
CHASE
It’s not just attraction. That’s the first thing I admit to myself when I step out onto the porch and the cold air hits my lungs like a slap.
Attraction is easy. Clean. You see a woman, you want her, end of story.
This isn’t that. This is heavier. Quieter.
It sits in my chest like a promise I didn’t mean to make and can’t take back.
Fiona stands on the other side of the yard with Harper, Emma, and Kayley, all of them fussing over the babies like they’re conducting some kind of tactical cuddle operation. Fiona’s got Aidan balanced on her hip like she’s done it a hundred times before, her smile a little tentative but real.
I don’t like that she’s not next to me. I don’t like how fast I notice it. I tell myself it’s just the job. She’s a potential target. She’s scared. We’re responsible for her safety. But that’s not the whole truth. The whole truth is I haven’t felt useful like this since the war.
Not “busy.” Not “occupied.” Useful.
There’s a difference.
Useful is when your presence changes the outcome. When you matter in a way that doesn’t end when the mission does. When you wake up and your first thought isn’t what’s the threat today but who do I protect today.
And right now? That answer is Fiona. Which is exactly why I don’t want to tell her brother about her nightmare last night. Gavin’s already in full commander mode. He doesn’t need more fuel for that fire. He doesn’t need to start locking her down like a VIP package with legs.
She needed comfort. She got it. End of story.
I head toward the meeting house, boots crunching on gravel. The place hums with that pre-brief energy—coffee, low voices, chairs scraping. The men are already filtering in.
Rafe’s leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, looking like he could fall asleep or start a war with equal ease.
Boyd is at the back, silent as a loaded weapon.
Thorne is near the window, eyes on the tree line like it personally offended him.
Silas is flipping through a thin folder, jaw tight.
Eli’s got a mug in one hand and a tablet in the other, already multitasking like a saint with a caffeine addiction.
Harlan and Rhett are arguing quietly about something that sounds like trucks and angles and whether someone “definitely bent that axle.”
I take a seat near the table just as Gavin walks in.
He doesn’t waste time.
“All right,” he says, clapping once. “Status.”
Silas looks up first. “No hits overnight. No movement on the perimeter. But Fiona’s story checks out so far. The ex has three burner phones registered under shell names and a couple of LLCs tied to short-term rentals and storage units. That’s not normal.”
“Nothing about this is normal,” Boyd rumbles.
Gavin nods, then looks straight at me. “How was her night?”
I don’t flinch. “Fine. She slept.”
Not a lie. Just not the whole story.
Gavin studies me for half a second longer than necessary, like he’s trying to decide whether to push. Then he moves on. “Good. Harper, Emma, and Kayley are keeping her busy with the kids for now. She doesn’t need to sit in on this.”
I don’t like that. Not because I think she should be in here, listening to men dissect her life like a problem to solve—but because I don’t like her being out of my line of sight.
I tell myself it’s tactical.
I don’t quite believe it.
Rafe clears his throat. “Let’s talk threat profile. She says she overheard something. Deal. Phones. That’s enough for a spook, not enough for this kind of pressure. Someone following her, showing up in her space? That’s escalation.”
“Agreed,” Silas says. “Which means either the ex is sloppy and panicking… or he’s not the top of the food chain.”
Rhett leans forward. “I vote not the top. Guys who are alone don’t usually have that kind of infrastructure.”
Eli nods. “And if he’s connected to something bigger, Fiona might not even be the main target. She might just be leverage.”
My jaw tightens.
Harlan glances at me. “You okay over there, cowboy? You look like you want to punch a wall.”
“I’m fine,” I say. “Just listening.”
Thorne finally turns from the window. “We should assume surveillance. If he followed her here—or tried to—he might be probing. Testing. That means we lock down her movements, rotate escorts, and keep her patterns unpredictable.”
Gavin nods. “That’s the plan.”
I shift in my seat. “She’s not a prisoner.”
“No,” Gavin says evenly. “But she is a potential target.”
There it is. The line. I get it. I really do. But it still rubs raw.
Rafe cuts in, voice calm. “We can do both. Keep her safe without making her feel caged.”
Boyd adds, “She’s tough. Doesn’t mean she should be alone.”
Silas taps the folder. “I’m going to dig deeper into the ex’s financials. Storage units, shell companies, travel records. If he’s dirty, he’s not clean enough to hide everything.”
Wyatt’s voice comes over the speaker from the tech room. “I can start scraping traffic cams and license plate readers in a fifty-mile radius. See if anyone’s been circling Timber Creek more than they should.”
Gavin nods. “Do it.” He looks around the table. “Until we know more, Fiona stays on-site or with an escort. No exceptions.”
My chest tightens again.
“Chase,” Gavin says, meeting my eyes. “You’re closest to her. You keep her company, keep her calm. You see anything off, you tell me.”
There’s a dozen responses I could give. I choose the honest one. “She doesn’t need to be interrogated.”
Gavin’s mouth tightens. “No one’s interrogating her.”
“Good,” I say. “Because she’s already on edge.”
A beat of silence.
Rafe’s gaze flicks between us. “We’re all on the same team here.”
“Yeah,” I say. “We are.”
The meeting wraps up with assignments—Silas and Wyatt on intel, Thorne and Boyd on perimeter adjustments, Harlan and Rhett on vehicle checks. Eli offers to check Fiona over “just to be safe,” and Gavin agrees.
As we stand, my attention drifts back to the window—to the clubhouse down the hill.
I can just make out movement. Laughter. Harper’s silhouette. Kayley’s. Emma’s.
And Fiona.
She’s sitting on the porch steps now, one of the babies in her lap, talking with her hands like she’s telling a story that needs gestures to survive.
She looks… lighter. And that’s when it hits me.
I don’t just want to keep her alive. I want to keep her like that.
Smiling. Talking. Breathing without fear in her eyes.
I don’t say it out loud. But it settles in my chest like something permanent.
Gavin claps a hand on my shoulder as we head out. “She’s in good hands, Chase.”
I nod. “I know.” And for the first time in a long time, I mean more than just the mission. Because whatever’s coming for Fiona… It’s going to have to get through all of us.
And me first.