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Footsteps came much too quickly and he could see the beautiful fifty-something Delta mom coming into the foyer. Her face broke into a radiant, welcoming smile, as if Zeke were the person she had been waiting to see for weeks. He knew that wasn’t accurate. Holly made everybody feel special. He was nothing special, unless you needed a tried and proven soldier.
He shook his head, blew out a breath, and steeled himself. His own mother had controlled, bruised, and belittled him more than his father. His parents, Mr. and Mrs. Witherspoon—thankfully he didn’t share their name any longer—had both put on a persona for the church and community that they were pious, kind people. He had seen his dad treat his older sister kindly on occasion, and he’d heard other soldiers claim their parents were loving and kind. But he had never experienced a mother in her own private sphere, where no one else was watching, who was as welcoming, accepting, and loving as Holly Delta.
The door flew open and Holly rushed at him. He instinctively edged to the right, his body already moving to incapacitate her with one quick hit to the back of the neck. No! He forced himself to stop, clenched his fists and his teeth, and impressively didn’t react at all as she flung her arms around his neck and hugged him.
At least, he didn’t react physically.
“You’re here! Yay!” She kept right on hugging him. Despite his lack of movement, Zeke closed his eyes, cataloguing the moment for future reference. Nothing was as comforting and like the home he’d never known than Holly’s “mama” hugs. Somehow soft but firm at the same time, they conveyed that he was enough. That he was wanted here. “Now hug me back,” she encouraged. “You can do it, cute boy.”
Cute boy? Zeke had broken men’s arms for much less, but from Holly it wasn’t demeaning. She saw something in him that he doubted was actually there. She somehow saw him—hardened, battle-tested, emotionless, untouchable Captain Zeke Hendrickson—as “cute” and as if he had warmth, depth, and … worth. Worth beyond being a fearless weapon and brilliant and tactical leader of the best SEALs in the world. In his not-humble-at-all opinion.
He shook off the introspection and forced himself to lean into her hug and clasped his hands together at her mid-back. He hadn’t been able to release his hands and place them palms down yet. That was a step in the hugging process he wasn’t sure he’d ever get to. He kept his eyes closed, savoring the solace of her touch. All the hidden anger, remorse, and pain didn’t matter when Holly held him tight.
“Good job, my sweet boy,” she said softly.
Zeke should’ve laughed out loud. He didn’t. He’d been through more advanced trainings than anyone he knew, received commendations and praise constantly, and had been awarded many distinguished awards, including the Navy Cross and most recently the Medal of Honor. But somehow, Holly Delta telling him he did a good job hugging her and intoning he was her sweet boy, a part of the family, seemed like the best reward he could imagine.
“And there he is, the elite Navy SEAL captain, hugging my wife again,” Joseph Delta’s voice came from the foyer.
Immediately, Zeke released her and drew back. Holly smiled up at him and kept her hand on his arm as he extended his hand and shook Joseph’s.
“Nice to see you, sir.”
“You too, Cap. You too.” Joseph luckily didn’t touch him beyond the handshake and released his grasp quick. He somehow instinctively knew Zeke’s hugs with his wife were unique and nobody else in the world would get away with touching him like Holly did. Or maybe his future son-in-law, Demo, had explained to him. Nobody knew much about Zeke’s past, but Demo was instinctive and, like his men, shielded him from people inadvertently touching him. They had his back on and off the battlefield.
Joseph gestured into the house. “Come in. It’s bitter cold out here.”
Zeke shrugged. He was wearing a long-sleeved black shirt and black cargo pants. He didn’t notice extremes in temperature much, trained to perform in extreme hot or cold situations, and used cold therapy whenever he could to stay in top physical condition and heal some of the strain his constant physical training brought on.
“You have a bag?” Holly asked.
“In the car.”
She gave him a look, seeming to sense immediately that he wasn’t a hundred percent committed to staying. Captain Zeke having a holly jolly Christmas with a bunch of warm, friendly Christian believers was more than a bit of a stretch. Now if this young lady they’d mentioned had a vicious killer after her, that would be more up his alley.
“We’ll get it soon,” Holly said.
He actually wanted his duffel within reach. He’d forced himself to leave everything but his knife and utility tool in his bag and in the rental car. It was unsettling not to be armed with at least his Sauger. Especially with the security guard out there. He looked again, but the man wasn’t in sight. It rankled at him that he’d forgotten about the guy while he hugged Holly. The man obviously was employed by the Deltas, so it shouldn’t have bothered him, but he didn’t let his guard down. Ever. And he just had.
The family and this valley should be safe and at peace. The danger to the Deltas was gone now that the youngest, Jessie, and his friend Demo, the best EOD he’d ever worked with, had blown up the Delta weapon most of the world had been after. They had lost their patriarch, the impressive and renowned Admiral Davidson Delta. It still pained Jessie and he was sure the rest of them, too. It was impossible to fill the hole of losing a great man like their “Papa Delta.”
So why the unfamiliar guard? Something to do with the woman they wanted Zeke to help?
“Thanks for coming,” Joseph said.
“Of course.” He would do almost anything for the Deltas. These people were as unselfish, cohesive, and extraordinary as any family he’d ever met. The American public at large had no idea, but the Deltas keeping their weapon safe from King Frederick had stayed the man from raining nuclear weapons down on America. While the Delta family had held down the home front, the elite special ops Delta Force had taken out Frederick and things had somewhat calmed on the international front. For the moment. There was always some terrorist or insurgent ready to stir up trouble. Weirdly, Zeke liked trouble. Trouble kept him busy and not thinking.
Thinking got men killed.
Holly kept her hand on his arm. He didn’t know if she was aware it was making him uncomfortable. She had some theory that she could acclimatize him to touch. He almost smiled at the thought. Maybe if Holly had been around a few years ago, his fiancée Rachel wouldn’t have dumped him while he was on a mission with no outside comms. By the time he’d seen his phone again, she’d blocked his number, relocated from Virginia Beach, and left no forwarding address. Rachel had a lot of concerns with his lack of emotion or “romance,” and she had hated his phobia of touch. Who could blame her? Being engaged to a man who never instigated and barely tolerated kissing and flinched every time they hugged. His only question was why she’d stayed around for two years.
Anybody who’d known about the relationship and his lack of dating since then would think he was heartbroken. Zeke thought it was more that he’d learned a lesson. Romantic relationships weren’t in the cards for a tough old frogman like him. Women came onto him constantly, wanting to be the one to break through his tough veneer. He wished he could tattoo “not worth pursuing” on his forehead. A relationship with him wasn’t fair to any woman, and Rachel deserved much better. He hoped she’d found it.
“Come back and meet our darling Mia.” Holly finally lifted her hand and gestured him through the entry. The sweeping staircase had decorative greenery wrapped around the railing and a variety of tall, skinny, decorated with silver balls and other unidentifiable-to-him ornaments, pine trees arched almost the height of the two-story entry. Nice.
Darling Mia?
He glanced sharply at Holly. “You said this was a mission.” It was a good thing his bag was still in the car. If she dared try to matchmake him with some girl, he’d bug out quick.
