Talk about wedding plans ended, and they hit on a topic more in Mathias’s comfort zone—ranchin’.
His aunt and uncle’s ranch was where he started to feel like a man. He learned how to be as rough and rugged as it took, no refined manners required. The working ranch boasted beef cattle and enough horses to have him up before dawn and heading home stiff and sore from a hard day’s work but pleasantly satisfied.
He tuned in to Corrine discussing the horses she enjoyed training to sell for big bucks to barrel racers. When they returned from this course, she had only a week to finish training a certain horse.
As soon as there was a lull in the conversation, Silas cleared his throat. The gritty sound had all their attention centered on him.
“I’m real glad I have everyone gathered together, because I’ve got something to tell you.” Silas Shanie had been hanging around the Wynton Ranch ever since Mathias could remember. He and Ross were tight buddies, and he’d jumped at the chance to join the family venture and create the S in the WEST Protection with the Wyntons and Traces.
He scanned the group. His stare landed on Ross for a moment and then dropped. “Y’all know I’ve had a few doctor’s appointments lately.”
Dread flooded into Mathias’s chest. His ominous tone didn’t sound like a torn rotator cuff or pulled groin. Anything Silas said in a group announcement couldn’t be good.
Silas slapped a smile on his face, but those close to him—which happened to be all of them—saw the strain around his lips.
“It turns out that I’ve got a little cancer.”
A heavy weight crushed down on them. They stared at him.
“What the fuck is a ‘little’ cancer?” Mathias asked.
“Just what I said. It’s a small thing—they caught it early.”
Mathias gave him a once-over. He looked as healthy and hale as ever. “Where is it?”
“My right nut.”
“Fuck.” Mathias jammed his fingers through his sweaty hair. Every guy on the team cringed at the words, and their own pair probably shriveled up too.
“Oh my God,” Corrine whispered.
Ross and his brothers Boone, Noah and Josiah all wore the same grim expression with brows lowered and not a dimple visible among them.
Mathias shot a look at his own brother, standing opposite him. Landon met his gaze with an “oh shit” look.
“What happens now?” Mathias asked.
“Surgery. They remove it. After they see what’s what, they decide if radiation is needed.”
“Son of a bitch,” Ross ground out. His voice was pinched into a high range, a testament to his emotion.
Silas waved him off. “It’s okay. I mean, it’s not. But I’ve come to terms with it. And I’m confident in my doctors.”
“Why didn’t you say anything before now? You’ve been living with this news for how long?”
“A month or so. Not too long. I wanted to know the plan of action before I asked for time off.”
“Fuck, man. You don’t have to ask for time off for something like this.” Ross stepped forward to grip Silas’s shoulder. They looked at each other and then bro-hugged with enough emotion that Corrine sniffled and Mathias’s eyes blurred for a moment.
“We’ve got more than enough guys to cover you. Plus, we’ve got a second group in training right now,” Boone spoke up.
Ross broke away from Silas and nodded. “Those new hires will be ready in a short time. Don’t worry about anything but getting better. You hear me?”
Silas’s face split into a true grin. “I knew you’d have my back.”
Corrine stepped up to him. “If you need anything—a ride to the hospital or one of those chicken casseroles you love—I’m here for you.”
“Thank you.”
A sob bubbled out of her, and Silas pulled her into a hug to console her probably more than himself.
Mathias looked at the wall he’d failed to rappel down. He had no choice now but to step it up and help the team more in Silas’s place. He did a lot of work on the back end of the business, finding locations, going through security footage and hunting down details about crimes. He also worked closely with another member of their team, Lauralee, who happened to have the wedding colors of “peach but not peach” that her fiancé Boone mentioned.
Mathias could surely do more in the office. While those tasks didn’t come as naturally to him as working with cattle, he wasn’t out of his element.
As they dispersed to head to the big van they’d all come here together in, a weight hung over the group. Before Mathias climbed into the vehicle, he turned to Silas. “Anything you need, man…”
Silas gripped his shoulder hard. “I know. I’ve got a big group of friends watching my back.”
Mathias slanted a grin at him. “That’s right—you’re one lucky bastard.”
He chuckled. “I’ll ask you how lucky I really am after you’ve spent a week in the office doing my job.”
* * * * *
Madeline leaned back in her chair and dug the pads of her fingers into her sore eyes.
The dim blue light filling the back room always gave Madeline a headache. The office of the old Catholic church serving as headquarters was equipped with computers and the latest tech gadgets money could buy, so she never understood why they didn’t install better lighting.
While it didn’t boast the vaulted ceilings of the main cathedral, it did have a couple stained glass windows. She swiveled in her seat to glare at the artwork in various shades of blue. A single white dove hovered near the top of the window.
It was supposed to be the Holy Spirit, she supposed, but she’d nicknamed the bird Paco—one of the little things she did to break up the hours of boredom performing this task.
Madeline had been with the elite bodyguard service known as The Guard for enough years that she deserved to be in the field rather than chained to a desk. But with all the guys out on jobs currently, she had no choice.
The chatter in her earpiece went on and on. The duty of eavesdropping on phone conversations rarely offered a break from the tedium either.
The drone of a baritone threatened to lull her to sleep, and she actually might have drifted off at her desk if not for the ache in her head.
She rummaged around the desk drawer for a bottle of painkillers, popped two and swallowed them with the cold black coffee dregs left in the bottom of her mug.
“The dinner party starts at eight.”
“I hate those late parties. I can’t eat that late without getting indigestion. Keeps me up half the night…”
What a bore. She tuned out the conversation going on in her ear and tapped at the keyboard to bring up a few screens. The guys on her team always questioned her ability to analyze data and listen to these conversations, but she’d found most men couldn’t multitask. She often thought that was the real reason all the members of The Guard had microchips implanted in their wrists—they’d otherwise end up lost while guarding someone’s life.
Two of their team were working together to bring a diplomat safely through a land in civil turmoil to the US. She tracked their movements on the map for a minute before flipping to another screen. This one had the name Oz. Her boss. And he was coming this way.