Duty Compromised (Citadel Solutions #3)

Chapter 1

Ty Hughes

I dropped my phone on the gym bench and tried not to let frustration get the better of me.

Four more weeks. Four more weeks of sitting on my ass in Rocheport, Missouri, while my team at Citadel Solutions handled actual work without me.

Four more weeks of Ethan Cross telling me company policy was nonnegotiable: full medical clearance or no active duty.

“Let me guess,” Donovan said from across the garage we’d converted into a makeshift gym years ago. “Doc still won’t clear you.”

“Not until the tissue’s fully healed.” I reached for the barbell and started adding weights. “Apparently getting shot isn’t something you just walk off.”

My older brother shook his head. “Could be worse. You could be dead.”

“Thanks for the pep talk.” I rolled my eyes.

The gunshot wound in my left shoulder pulled as I lifted the bar into position. Six weeks since the Corazón mission, and the damned thing reminded me it was there every time I moved wrong. The doctor said I was lucky—clean through, missed everything important.

Lucky. Right. Lucky would have been not getting shot at all. Lucky would have been getting Lauren out of that jungle without Silva’s men catching up to us. Instead, I took a round to the shoulder providing cover fire while Logan got her to the extraction point.

Worth it though—Lauren was safe, Logan was actually happy for once in his miserable life, and the bullet went straight through without hitting bone or anything vital. Only ten weeks of recovery driving me batshit crazy.

“You’re favoring your right side,” Ben Garrison observed from where he sat on the floor, his Belgian Malinois Jolly sprawled beside him.

Ben had driven down from Denver three days ago, said he and Jolly needed a break from the city.

But I knew better. Donovan had been Ben’s battle buddy in Afghanistan.

They’d done two tours together before Donovan got out six months ago.

Ben knew things about my brother’s last deployment that Donovan wouldn’t talk about—not to me, not to our parents, not to anyone in the family.

Whatever had happened over there, it had changed Donovan. Made him quieter. More distant.

“I’m fine,” I said, pushing up through another rep. The bar felt heavier than it should at 185 pounds—that was the weight I used to fucking warm up with.

“Sure you are.” Ben scratched behind Jolly’s ears. “That’s why you winced on rep three.”

I finished and racked the weights with more force than needed. “You want to spot me or critique my form?”

“I can do both.” He hauled himself up, all six-foot-four of him unfolding with the easy grace of someone who spent his life staying combat-ready. “Besides, someone needs to keep you from tearing something and extending your medical leave. Drop the weight to 155.”

“I can handle—”

“You can handle getting back to full strength without your ego making decisions.” Ben pulled a ten-pound plate off each side. “Marathon, not a sprint.”

I fucking hated that he was right. I looked over at Jolly to find support, but he just wagged his tail and gave me his signature Jolly grin.

Donovan loaded up the other rack to 225 for his working sets. Smooth and controlled through his warm-up, then powering through reps like the bar weighed nothing. Six months out of the Army and he maintained regulation-short hair, woke at 0500 without an alarm, moved with that same coiled readiness.

But something was different too. The easy laugh was gone. The quick jokes missing. Now he just…existed.

“Speaking of Citadel,” Ben said, settling into place behind the bench as I positioned myself for another set. “Ethan called me yesterday.”

“About a mission?” I grabbed the bar, focusing on keeping my core tight despite the pull in my shoulder. And my fucking jealousy about something as casual as being called in for a mission.

“About your brother.” Ben glanced at Donovan, who was pointedly not looking our way. “They could use another K9 handler. Someone with his combat experience and skill set.”

“And?” I played along, powering through the reps, feeling every one in my still-healing tissue.

“And I told him Donovan would call when he’s ready.”

Donovan dropped from the pull-up bar after twenty perfect reps. “I’m right here, you know.”

“We know,” Ben said carefully. “Just saying, the offer’s there. Good team, good benefits. Ethan runs a tight ship but takes care of his people.”

That was an understatement. Citadel Solutions wasn’t just a security company—it was a family.

Ethan had built it that way on purpose, hiring guys who needed more than just a paycheck.

Guys who needed purpose. Direction. A place to belong after the military spat them out.

Guys who had stayed mission-ready and were able to do the type of personal and corporate security work Citadel handled.

I’d joined two years ago, right after my discharge. Best decision I’d ever made. I made my way over to the practice boxing gloves and slipped them on.

“You two sound like recruiters,” Donovan muttered.

“Just saying,” I started, but I stopped when I saw his expression. That blank look that meant the walls were up and reinforced.

“This the same Citadel where Ty’s been shot on his last two missions?” Donovan threw a combination that made the bag jump. “Real selling point there.”

“Both times were worth it,” I said, moving to the heavy bag.

I started with basic combinations—jab, cross, hook.

My footwork was shit, though. The wound made me hesitate on my pivot, throwing off my rhythm.

“Colombia last year—we got Herrera. Child trafficker off the streets. And Corazón—Lauren’s alive and safe. ”

“Lauren’s the doctor, right?” Donovan asked between strikes. “Logan’s woman?”

“That’s the one. And now she’s one of Citadel’s go-to doctors.” I threw another combination, feeling the pull in my shoulder. “Never thought I’d see Logan Kane actually happy. She’s got him completely wrapped around her finger.”

“Logan Kane smiles?” Ben asked from where he was working with dumbbells. “The same Kane who once went three days without saying more than ten words?”

“Same one. And Lauren’s become part of the family now.” The bag swayed as I worked through the pain. “Shows up at team dinners, knows everyone’s stories. Hell, she even gets Jace to explain his tech setups without making everyone’s eyes glaze over. Mel—Ethan’s wife—took to her immediately.”

But it was more than that. Lauren hadn’t just changed Logan—she’d become part of Citadel.

Part of our weird, dysfunctional family.

That’s what happened when you found the right person.

They didn’t just fit into your life—they fit into your family.

Your real family, the one you chose. The one that had your back when bullets started flying.

My gloves connected with the leather, but my mind wasn’t really on the bag.

I’d had plenty of women over the years. Short-term, uncomplicated, exactly how I liked it.

They never met the team, never came to Citadel events, never got close enough to matter.

Easier that way. Cleaner. No one got hurt when things ended.

But sometimes, usually in the quiet hours when I couldn’t sleep, I wondered what it would be like. To have someone who’d worry when I was late checking in. Someone who understood why I did what I did. Someone who could handle this life without flinching.

Someone like—

I slammed my fist into the bag hard enough to make my whole arm sing.

“Your left hook’s got no power,” Donovan observed, finishing his third set of fifty push-ups. “You’re pulling it.”

“I’m fucking aware.” I threw another combination, trying to push through the limitation.

“Try switching stances.” He moved to the kettlebells, snatching a fifty-three-pounder overhead in one smooth motion. “Take the pressure off that shoulder.”

I shifted my stance, leading with my right instead. I was right-handed but tended to fight as a southpaw, so this switch felt awkward, like learning to fight all over again. But the pain in my shoulder eased.

“So what’s it like?” Donovan asked suddenly. “Citadel. Day-to-day.”

This was the first time he’d asked. Both Ben and I froze for a second then resumed our activities.

“Depends on the contract,” I said, keeping my voice casual. “Executive protection, mostly. Celebrities, diplomats, corporate types who’ve pissed off the wrong people. Sometimes extraction work—getting people out of bad situations.”

“Like the doctor in Corazón. Lauren,” Donovan said.

“Exactly like that. Sometimes it’s just standing around looking menacing while some CEO plays golf.

” I worked the bag from the new angle, finding my rhythm.

“But when it matters—when someone’s life is on the line—there’s nothing like it.

Knowing you’re the difference between someone making it home or not. ”

“Even when you catch a bullet for it?” Donovan asked, nodding at my shoulder.

“Especially then. Means you did your job right.” I threw another combination, ignoring the pull. “Lauren’s alive, safe, happy with Logan. That’s what matters.”

“And the team?” Donovan had stopped hitting the bag, just standing there with his hands wrapped.

“Solid,” Ben said. “Ethan’s good people. Knows when to push, when to back off. Jace handles all the tech stuff—surveillance, communications, digital security. Logan’s tactical, like Ty. Andrew’s our pilot when we need one. Small team, tight unit. And a few others we use as needed.”

“Less bureaucratic bullshit,” I added. “No politics. Just the job.”

Donovan nodded slowly, processing. I could see him weighing it, measuring it against whatever was going on in his head. The nightmares he wouldn’t talk about. The reason he’d been drinking more than he should. The way he startled at unexpected sounds.

“Maybe,” he said finally. “After—”

He broke off as Jolly stood up, his attention focused on the door.

“Someone’s coming,” Ben said.