“Hooyah,” Cooper uttered the Navy battle cry quietly, and the others nodded, even Mac, the only Army guy on the porch.
Dale looked at the men around him—his friends, his brothers in arms. There was a sense of solidarity here, a shared determination to see this through. And while the unknowns gnawed at him, he knew one thing for certain: these guys were the people he could count on, no matter what.
Still, the quiet unnerved him. The lack of activity didn’t feel like a reprieve, it felt like the calm before a storm. And he couldn’t shake the feeling that something big was on the horizon, something they hadn’t anticipated.
“Any thoughts on why things have gone quiet?” Dale asked, looking to Mac, who seemed to have a knack for seeing things others didn’t.
The guy stared out at the horizon for a moment before speaking. “Could be a few things. They might be waiting for an opportunity, or they could be regrouping, planning their next move. But my gut says they’re testing us—seeing how we respond, where we’re weak.”
Dale nodded, the tension in his chest tightening. “And if they find a weak spot?”
“Then we close it up before they can exploit it,” Mac replied. “We’ve been doing this a long time, Dale. Both on active duty as well as here in Harland County. We’ve seen all kinds of threats, all kinds of tactics. Whoever this is might think they’re being clever, but we’ve got the experience to see through it.”
Cooper leaned forward, his voice low. “We’ve got people watching, cameras up, and the sheriff’s department on alert. If they make a move, we’ll know about it. And we’ll be ready.”
The reassurance from his friends helped, but the uncertainty still lingered. The machete, the quiet, the unknown assailant—it all pointed to something more than just a random act of violence. This felt personal, calculated.
As the group settled back into a companionable silence, Dale let out a slow breath, trying to steady his nerves. They might bein the dark now, but they were far from defeated. And when the time came, they’d be ready to fight back.
For now, they’d wait. And they’d watch. And they’d make damn sure that when the storm hit, they were the ones who came out on top.
***
Later that afternoon, after an incredible tamale lunch, Dale followed Sadie up the narrow staircase that led to the apartment above the garage, his eyes taking in every detail of the delectable feast sashaying in front of him. Her rounded hips and perfect cheeks were fantasy-worthy, and he was the lucky SOB to have them as part of his reality.
Forcing his attention off her sweet ass, he waited for her to unlock the door before he followed her inside and quickly entered the alarm code to keep it from triggering. Since he’d checked the video feed of all three rooms on her phone beforehand, Dale had allowed Sadie to take lead, so she’d have at least a little bit of control in her seemingly out-of-control life.
This was the first time he’d stepped foot inside the place. Rylee had hung out with Sadie up here two days ago. The day of Sadie’s first attempt to record content.
Dale was determined to make today a success for her. She needed normalcy. She needed a win.
With a quick but thorough glance, he took in the space. The apartment was a cozy, open-concept area with a small kitchenette along one wall, complete with white cabinets and a sleek countertop. He could see two open doors on the far wall. One led to a bedroom and the other to a bathroom. The living area in which they were standing—Sadie’s craft room—looked like a rainbow exploded.
The white walls were lined with white shelving units, each one crammed with bins, jars, and baskets full of colorful craft supplies. It was like stepping into a world where every shadeof the rainbow had come to life. Ribbons, paints, markers, and paper in every hue imaginable filled the shelves, all meticulously organized yet giving off a chaotic, creative energy.
In the center of the room stood a large, white counter-height desk, which served as Sadie’s main workspace. Attached to it in the center was a camera hanging from an upside-down U-shaped bar fastened to the desk on both sides. In front of the desk was a large, round light that no doubt bathed the area in an even glow—her set-up for filming content for her crafting channel.
“Well, here’s hoping round two goes better,” she said, more to herself than him. “There’s a TV in the bedroom if you want to kick back while I fumble my way through another video.”
Despite the vibrant surroundings, Sadie looked anything but inspired. This was the second time in three days she’d tried to record content, but she just couldn’t seem to get into the right headspace. Her gaze was clouded with a mix of doubt and lingering sadness, shadowing the usual sparkle in her eyes. Tension stiffened her shoulders as she stared at her materials with frustration etched on her face.
“I’ll just hang out here for a bit, if that’s okay?” he asked, walking toward two shelving units across from her desk that held a bunch of handmade gnomes as well as crocheted or knitted animals, he wasn’t sure which. The whole lot was cute and colorful and looked like they took a lot of work.
“That’s fine,” she said, absently, her gaze still on the items on her desk.
He leaned against the wall next to the shelves, far enough out of the camera angle, yet close enough to offer his silent support. Dale watched her for several minutes as she fiddled with a piece of ribbon, searching for the right words for her intro. She tried a few different spiels, but each time Sadie shook her head and sighed, clearly dissatisfied.
“This used to be my sanctuary,” she said with a sigh. “My hub of fun and creativity. Now it just feels tainted.”
His chest squeezed tightly. God, he hated seeing her like this. The vibrant energy that normally radiated from her was dimmed, overshadowed by the events of the past few days.
Crossing the room in just a few steps, he stopped behind her and set his hands on her shoulders. “Sadie,” he began softly, “it’s understandable that you’re feeling this way after what happened. But you can’t let it take this space from you. This is yours—your happy place.”
She leaned back into his touch, her eyes closing as she let out a heavy breath. “I know. I keep telling myself that every day. I hate that it’s zapping my creativity, Dale. I hate that I’m letting it win.”
He gently turned her around to face him and dipped down to stare into her clouded gaze. “Maybe,” he said, brushing his thumb lightly across her cheek, “you just need to make a new memory—a good one, a fun one—to cancel out the bad.”
Her head tilted slightly, and a small, curious smile pulled at her lips. “Oh? And how do you suggest I do that?”
