Chapter 13
Chapter thirteen
Crowe
I woke up to the smell of coffee and lay there for a moment, taking stock of the fact that Noah had gotten up first and had made a pot of coffee for me, even though he didn’t drink it. Like we were already people who did things like that for each other.
I got up and found him at the small table by the window with his hands wrapped around a mug of tea, looking out at the city waking up below. He’d found one of my t-shirts somewhere and put it on, and I liked seeing him in my clothes.
He looked up when I came in. “Coffee’s ready.”
“So I smell. Thanks.” I poured a mug and leaned back against the counter. I drank my coffee and looked at him in my t-shirt in the gray morning light. “What are you thinking about?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Everything, I guess. How I ended up here. What it means for my future. But mostly what I’m going to do today so I don’t get bored cooped up here in this apartment.”
I understood that. There was a reason I preferred the camp over headquarters. I needed room to move around.
Which gave me an idea.
I had a new group coming in next week—a sheriff’s department from East Texas—and I hadn’t been out there since I left to go to the cabin.
Since Bobby had been staying at the camp to keep an eye on things while I was on vacation, he’d said he would get everything set up and ready.
He was capable, and I trusted him, but I liked to walk the property myself before a new group arrived.
Since I was back early, there was no reason I couldn’t check things over.
“I need to go out to the camp today,” I said.
He looked at me.
“I want to check in with Bobby. Make sure we’re set up for the group coming in next week.” I paused. “You could come. If you wanted.”
I’d suggested it to give him something to do, but I realized I actually wanted him there. Wanted to show him where I spent most of my time. What I’d built out there.
He looked interested, but something held him back. “Is it safe? To go so far away from headquarters?”
“We’ll take one of the armored vehicles. The camp is on private land, gated, and the whole perimeter is monitored. It’s more secure than most places you could be.” I held his gaze. “I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t sure.”
The interest won, and he smiled. “Yeah. I want to see where you live.”
The camp sat on the outside of town, but Vesper wasn’t huge, so it didn’t take us too long to get there.
I’d called and let Bobby know we were coming, and he had the gate open by the time we pulled up the long gravel drive.
He stood beside it with his hands in his jacket pockets and an expression like he hadn’t been watching for us.
He was twenty-one, straight out of a community college criminal justice program, with more raw potential than he knew what to do with yet. I liked the kid and was glad he ended up out here at the camp as often as he did.
We stepped out of the SUV, and he moved toward us.
“Everything’s ready. You want to check it out?”
“In a bit. Give me a few minutes first.”
“Sure thing. Just holler.”
I took Noah up the path toward the farmhouse. He was taking in everything—the spread of the property, the outbuildings, the wooded perimeter, and the cabins set back from the main drive.
“This suits you,” he said. “How much land is it?”
“Forty-three acres. Most of it wooded.”
“And those are the trainee cabins?”
“Yeah. They sleep six each. We have four of them.” I glanced over. “You can look inside one if you want.”
“Maybe before we leave.”
We reached the farmhouse, and I pushed open the front door.
The ground floor opened into the communal kitchen and dining area with a long wooden table that had seen enough elbows and coffee mugs to earn the marks on its surface, an industrial coffee maker that ran most of the day, and a whiteboard where I tracked schedules and gear assignments.
Enamel mugs hung under one cabinet, and a cast-iron skillet rested on the stove because, whether I was here or in the cabin, I didn’t like to cook in anything else.
It wasn’t fancy. But it worked.
“This is where everyone eats,” I said. “And where we hold classes or meetings.”
Noah ran his hand along the edge of the table, fingertips brushing the worn wood. “It’s a good space.” He tilted his head back, studying the exposed beams and the light pouring through the east-facing windows. “The house is old.”
“1940s. The family that owned the land before us built it. We redid the wiring, insulation, and HVAC. It was a collection of smaller rooms when we started, but we also opened up the downstairs so it could handle a group without feeling cramped. My quarters are upstairs. Want to take a look?”
“I do.”
We took the back staircase. The steps creaked in familiar places. I could’ve fixed them, but I liked knowing that if anyone came up those stairs, I would hear them.
The upstairs wasn’t big. A bedroom, a bathroom, and a small sitting room off to the side. Separate enough from the operation that I didn’t feel like I lived at work, but close enough for me to be available if I was needed.
I’d been here four years. Long enough that the space felt like mine.
There were a few framed photos, a bookshelf I’d built myself, and a rug I’d dragged in from the cabin because the hardwood was cold.
I’d planned to replace it and return it, but I’d never taken it back because it reminded me of home.
I stood beside Noah and tried to look at it through his eyes.
The bookshelf was crammed full of books, most of which I’d read and should probably donate to the local library sale since I wasn’t much of a re-reader.
There was a photo of me with all the Three Bears guys here at the training camp that Caden had taken the day before our first group came to stay for a weekend.
Noah walked over to the desk under the window and picked up a framed photograph that had been taken the summer before my mother died.
“Is this your family?”
I moved to stand beside him. “Yes, those are my parents.” I pointed to the middle-aged couple who were standing behind Wyatt and me. “And that’s Wyatt.”
“You two don’t look a lot alike, but you both have a mixture of your parents’ features.”
“He took after our mother more than I did.”
He nodded and placed the picture back down on the desk. Then he turned and looked around the rest of the space.
“Jackson, this place feels like you.”
“It’s practical.” I shrugged.
“That’s not what I said.”
I leaned against the doorframe. “It works.”
“It’s homey like the cabin,” he insisted, not letting me brush it off.
The cabin was different. My family history lived in the walls.
This place didn’t have that, but it still felt good.
When we’d been remodeling the downstairs, I’d had them leave the upstairs to me.
I patched the drywall and replaced the trim myself.
I liked working with my hands, and this had given me something to do with them in the evenings while we got the camp ready to open.
“It isn’t mine, but I like it.”
He studied me like he wanted to say something, but we both heard something from downstairs. The scrape of a chair, maybe.
“We should head down,” I said. “Bobby’ll be wondering what we’re doing up here.”
Bobby had done a good job. Better than good.
I walked the property with him while Noah fell in beside us, and I could see the care Bobby had taken.
The range targets had been replaced. Shooting lanes cleared and marked.
The gear shed was organized, and everything was labeled and counted.
He’d aired out the training cabins and laid out fresh bedding.
The supply lists were updated, and the tracking course had been remarked.
He’d even laid out the week’s schedule on the whiteboard in the farmhouse.
I’d told him to have everything ready for me, but I’d expected to have to spend the better part of the first day finishing things up; that wasn’t going to be necessary at all. He’d handled everything.
“You do this all yourself?” I asked.
“Kat helped me with the background files,” he said. “The rest I just followed your checklist.”
“Not all of this was on the checklist.”
“No, but I’d seen what all you do to get ready, so that’s what I did.”
“Good work, Bobby.”
He straightened slightly. “Thanks.”
“The sheriff’s department that’s coming…tell me about them.”
“Six deputies. Two females, four males. Couple rookies. The lieutenant requested a shoot-don’t-shoot emphasis and hand-to-hand. One has a prior shoulder injury on the left side. It’s flagged.”
“Good catch. We’ll need to make sure whoever runs hand-to-hand knows.”
“It’s already in the notes.”
He tried not to look pleased. Failed.
“Okay, umm, I have a few more things to take care of. I’ll meet you up at the house.” Bobby gave us a curt nod and turned towards the shed.
Noah fell into step beside me as we headed back toward the farmhouse, but I could feel him watching me as we walked.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing, it's just, you’re good with him.”
“He’s good at his job.”
“And you told him that.”
“He is.”
“I know.” Noah glanced over. “I’m just saying you took the time to make sure he knew you thought so. That means a lot.”
“He’s a good kid, but he isn’t quite sure of himself yet, so he needed to hear it.”
“Yeah.” He watched the treeline. “You’re good at that. Seeing what people need. At seeing what I need. Like bringing me out here today so I wouldn’t get bored.”
I reached over and took his hand.
We walked the rest of the way in silence. The farmhouse stood steady at the edge of the clearing, porch wide, metal roof catching the light.
When we reached the porch, Noah stopped and turned to look at me. “I love what you’ve created here. They’re lucky to have you.”
The camp had been my idea. I built it. I’d walked every acre before we broke ground. But Wolfe backed it, and if he hadn’t believed in my vision, none of it would’ve been possible.
“No more lucky than I am to have them.”
“Well, I’m lucky to have all of you. I don’t know how I would get through all of this without Three Bears Tactical at my back.”
“Good thing is, you don’t have to. We’ve got you, Noah. Speaking of which, we should head back. I wanted to get with the guys and get an update on things.”