But when Jack looks over, just once, and our eyes catch like flint— I think maybe this is the start of a different kind of plan. One with a grumpy, growly bodyguard. One where the small accidents aren’t accidents at all. One where a girl like me learns to breathe when a man like him says so, and also to run, and also to stand very, very still when standing still is the safest thing.
“Yeehaw,” I murmur to myself, and this time it sounds less like science and more like a warning and a promise.
TWO
JACK
Valor Springs, Texas
Present day
I’ve taken bullets in Kandahar, rappelled off embassy roofs in Bahrain, and once defused a car bomb in a suit and tie without spilling my coffee.
But none of that prepared me for Stella Hart.
The woman is chaos in pink sneakers.
Frosting on my chest. Laughs like bells. Mouth like sunshine. And I can’t stop watching her.
She’s across the square now, crouched next to a crying kid who scuffed his knee. Her hands are gentle, her voice soft. She makes the kid smile in under ten seconds. I don’t know how she does that, but if the Pentagon knew how to bottle whatever she runs on, we’d win every war without firing a shot.
“Jack.” Dillon’s voice crackles in my earpiece. “Status?”
“Square is stable,” I reply, eyes still locked on Stella as she places a bandaid over the kid’s bloody knee. “Minor incident earlier. Top bale fell off the stack behind the float lineup. Nobody hurt.”
There’s a pause. “Accident?”
“Could be,” I say, but my gut disagrees. The cut on the twine was too clean. And the fact that Stella was exactly in the fall zone? Not a coincidence I like.
“Keep eyes on the Hart girl,” Dillon adds. “Wyatt said there’ve been some close calls lately. He’s concerned.”
“I watched a brake line from her car roll in like spaghetti this morning when the deputy dropped it off,” Nash says through his comm. “Something’s up.”
“Wait. Her brake line was cut?” I ask, my heart beat speeding up. I don’t like this one bit.
“Yeah, Wyatt’s concerned,” Dillon adds.
“I’ll stay close.” It’s non-negotiable.
“Copy that.”
The comm goes quiet. I tug my earpiece loose and slide my sunglasses down. It’s getting too easy to look at her and forget the job. She’s…a lot. In all the best, most dangerous ways.
Stella moves like the world is good. Like it’s worth smiling at, like everyone deserves a second cookie and a first chance. I don’t know how someone like her survives a world like this, let alone makes it brighter.
Wyatt pulls me aside. “Favor?”
I nod. “Always. What’s up?” I tear my gaze from Stella and focus on her brother. I don’t like the way he’s staring at me. Like there’s a secret he’s about to let me in on.
“I talked with Grayson, and together we think somebody needs to watch Stella. She won’t ask for help. She’ll say she’s fine. But I’ve seen her brakes fail, her mailbox smashed, her back porch light shattered three times. If you don’t...”
I cut in before he can finish his sentence. “I’m on it.” No hesitation.
He visibly relaxes. “Thanks, man. I don’t know what all this means yet, but call it a hunch, something’s just not right.”
I nod. “Yeah, for sure. Something’s up, and we’ll keep her safe until you figure it out.”
We shake hands, and he’s off.
