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The tears came harder, and her whole body shook with them. She went lightheaded and the room tilted.
“That’s enough for tonight.” Wyatt’s firm voice cut through the room. “She’s exhausted. Let her rest. Doc?”
Hitchcock spoke, quiet but final. “He’s right, Carson. She’s given you plenty for tonight.” He traded a look with Carson she couldn’t read and no longer cared about.
Carson tipped his head toward the door. “Rhodes. My office.”
“I’ll stay with her,” Hitchcock announced.
Whitley didn’t want Wyatt to let go of her hand. The panic must have shown on her face because he held her gaze all the way to the door, as if he was trying to leave some part of his strength behind for her to hold onto.
Just as he cleared the door, two women rounded the corner.
One was a stunning brunette who was visibly pregnant. The other had a calm clarity in her eyes that eased something inside Whitley the instant she looked at her.
The second woman stepped up to the bed. “I’m Rhae.” She glanced at the doctor. “If she doesn’t need anything medical right now, we’ll sit with her.”
The dark-haired woman drew up the chair Wyatt had vacated but didn’t immediately sit. “I’m Willow. Can I get you another blanket?”
Whitley nodded helplessly even as her gaze darted back to the door, watching Wyatt’s broad shoulders disappear from view.
Chapter Seven
Wyatt followed Carson out of the infirmary, his footsteps echoing on the tile. Hitchcock peeled off from the group, returning to whatever tasks he had to see to.
Gabe hung back for a beat. “I’ll catch up with you two in a minute.”
Carson grunted a response, but Wyatt didn’t have anything to say. He felt the full heat of what he’d done settle into his chest all over again.
Gabe fought for him. He’d given him a seat on the team headed to the mountain that no one else believed he’d earned. Even though something more important came up, he’d still walked away from his team and had to face the consequences.
They exited through a side door leading out of the veteran’s therapy lodge. The Black Heart Ranch sprawled in the darkness, security lights on every corner of the lodge that housed the therapy program, as well as the barns and most outbuildings. The big main house spanned the opposite side of a wide driveway, some of the windows glowing yellow with light.
He and Carson didn’t speak as they crossed the pavement to the security office positioned on the end of the home many of the Malone siblings and their partners shared.
He’d never been in the office before even though he and a couple of his fellow candidates helped out the security team during their first days in the facility. They were sent to search the mountain for an abandoned vehicle that belonged to armed men who’d attacked a woman and her bodyguard.
Though it was well into the night, all the lights in the security office were on. Carson opened the door, and Wyatt followed him into a modern space with rough hardwood floors that contrasted with the glass panels separating several offices.
Two women glanced up from monitors as they entered. Their screens glowed with data streams—maps, feeds and scrolling lines of text he didn’t try to read.
The pretty redhead with freckles smiled at him. “Ayla,” she introduced herself.
The second gave him a once-over that felt more like an assessment than a greeting, and he got the sense that she’d judged his usefulness in one glance. “Lex Navarro.”
“We’ll be in the war room,” Carson said without greeting them. Ayla nodded but Lex didn’t reply.
Wyatt ducked his head in greeting to both and continued to follow Carson. He stopped at the war room.
“Take a seat. I’m going to make a call.” Carson turned to go before he could respond.
Wyatt stepped into the room and took it all in—the table long enough to seat a dozen people, scarred in places, as if it had survived more than a few hard conversations before this one. Large screens filled one entire wall, along with a whiteboard that had the scribblings of some plan. Another wall housed cabinets, and he could only imagine the things a security team comprised of former Navy SEALs and other military personnel kept behind closed doors.
Wyatt pulled out a chair, clenching his jaw at the grating noise in the quiet, trying not to feel awed by the fact he was finally seated where he always believed he belonged.
In a war room.
The men of the team—Carson and his brothers, as well as a handful of others who worked here—had all lived a version of a life Wyatt wanted for himself. Every member of Black Heart Security had a service record the same as his own family built their identity around.
