And that, more than anything, had him on edge.
The morning was peaceful, the mid-morning sun heating the air. It was the kind of day that would normally put Dale at ease, but not today. Not with the tension humming under the surface. He felt like a tightly wound spring ready to snap. The other guys must have felt it too, because no one had left their posts, even though there was no sign of immediate danger.
Mac sat beside him on the porch, his demeanor as calm and unflappable as ever. Cooper, RJ, and Dean were inside, probably chatting about the latest Texas Rangers game. Rylee and her husband, Dex, another former Delta guy, were next door “visiting” with Sadie, making a few batches of chicken tamales they were all going to eat for lunch. His stomach rumbled just thinking about them.
But Dale’s mind kept circling back to the same thoughts, over and over.
“I can’t help but feel guilty,” Dale muttered, breaking the comfortable silence between him and Mac. “You guys have been away from your families, from your lives, because of all this. I know you keep saying it’s part of the job, but it doesn’t sit rightwith me. I have some money saved. Let me pay everyone for their time.”
Mac turned his head slightly, giving Dale one of those looks that made it clear he was about to get a talking-to. “You’re one of us.”
“But that’s just it, Mac,” he said, cutting the guy off. “I’m not one of you guys. I don’t work for ESI.”
He might in the future. He was still mulling over Mac’s job offer, and Gabe’s, but for now, he needed to concentrate on keeping Sadie, his father, the ranch, their houses, and his friends safe.
“Not what I meant.” Mac shook his head. “You’re former military. A brother. We take care of our own, no questions asked. And you’re not pulling us away from anything. We still have guys out there working other assignments. We’re just making sure this is handled right.”
“I appreciate it, Mac,” Dale said. “Thanks.”
RJ emerged from the house, a grin on his face. “Cooper’s trying to teach Dean about baseball strategy. Pretty sure Dean’s heard the same play called three different ways, but he’s too polite to point it out.”
Dale chuckled, but the weight of his earlier thoughts still pressed down on him. “I hate making you guys stay here. It’s just… I know you all have families to get back to. And I can’t help but wonder if I’m taking you away from more important things.”
“More important than keeping you and your family safe?” RJ asked, raising an eyebrow. “Not a chance. Besides, this isn’t just about you. Whoever’s behind this is a threat to everyone here. If we don’t stop them now, who’s to say they won’t go after the next person?”
True. He hadn’t really thought about it that way.
Cooper appeared in the doorway, nodding in agreement as he joined them on the porch. “RJ’s right. And we’re not exactlytwiddling our thumbs, either. We’ve been keeping up with everything else, making sure all our bases are covered. Mac’s got this under control.”
Mac nodded. “Exactly. We’ve got enough people on the ground to handle everything that’s coming our way. This is just another job, Dale. And when it’s all over, we’ll go back to our families knowing we did right by one of our own.”
Dale sighed, running a hand through his hair as he looked out at the quiet street again. “I appreciate it, I really do. I just wish I knew what we were dealing with. It’s been five days of nothing. No sign of anyone at any of the properties. It doesn’t make sense.”
“That’s what worries me,” Dean added, joining the group from the doorway. “It’s too quiet. It’s like they’re waiting for something—or planning something bigger.”
“Gabe said he’s increased patrols around the properties,” Dale stated. “But without knowing who we’re dealing with or what they want, it feels like we’re just sitting ducks. We thought Sadie was just a pawn until that damn machete showed up. What else have we gotten wrong?”
Mac sipped his coffee, his eyes narrowing in thought. “Have you heard anything back on the machete? And whatever else the sheriff’s people processed in the garage?”
Dale nodded, setting his cup down on the porch railing. “Yeah, Gabe called me this morning. It’s a Colombian Hawkbill Machete. No prints, no identifying marks, nothing that points us in any direction. Gabe said it’s a tool that’s typically used for agricultural work—cutting through thick vegetation, that sort of thing. As for the rest of the garage, only Sadie’s prints were on her tools, and according to her, nothing was missing or out of place.”
After the men had processed the garage and removed the machete, Gabe had asked Sadie to survey the room for anything off.
RJ frowned, clearly puzzled. “Doesn’t exactly scream ‘personal vendetta,’ does it?”
“No, it doesn’t,” Dale agreed. “Which makes me wonder if we’re missing something. Maybe there’s a connection we haven’t made yet. Something about that machete just doesn’t add up.”
Dean leaned against the porch railing, his expression thoughtful. “It could be symbolic. Or it could be that they’re trying to throw us off their trail by using something that seems unrelated. Another pawn piece, perhaps.”
“But unrelated to what?” Cooper asked, shaking his head. “If they’re trying to send a message, it’s not one that any of us are getting. And that worries me. We can’t fight back if we don’t know what we’re up against.”
Mac crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze steady as he looked at Dale. “We’re not going to stop until we figure this out, Dale. But you need to understand that this could take time. Whoever’s behind this might be testing us, seeing how we react. Or they could be waiting for the right moment to strike.”
Dale clenched his fists, frustration gnawing at him. “And in the meantime, we just sit here, waiting for them to make their move. I’m an offense kind of guy.”
“I know,” Mac said, his voice firm. “We all are. But that’s part of the job too. Sometimes, we have to wait for the other side to make a mistake. And when they do, we’ll be ready.”
RJ nodded. “They’re playing the long game. But so are we. And if they think they can outlast us, they’re in for a rude awakening.”
