Chapter 6 #3
Jason shook his head. “Enjoy yourself and keep me updated.”
“Always.” Max ended the video feed.
* * *
“I need you to stay close to Maggie Brooks.”
Reece sat down on the bed. His father’s tone brooked no room for argument. “Okay. Why?” It wasn’t like he didn’t want to see her again—because he did—but the directive was confusing.
Jason exhaled quietly. “Several reasons that aren’t solid as of now, but gut feelings on a lot of different levels. You’ve already told your team you’d be coming back, but they’re tied up for a period of time. Rotations, overseas commitments, and a mess I’m not pulling you into yet.”
Reece listened without interrupting.
“Maggie may be in the middle of a serious situation. So, instead of bringing in an asset who doesn’t know her or have your history from yesterday, I’m asking you to keep an eye on her,” Jason continued. “You’re available, experienced, and already involved, whether you intended to be or not.”
A corner of Reece’s mouth lifted. “So, you’re assigning me.”
“I’m giving you an option,” Jason corrected. “Consider this a slow transition back to work. Ease in. No formal deployment. Yet.”
“And Maggie?”
“She’s our focus,” Jason said simply. “My specialist says she’s brilliant, and he’s going to be doing some deep digging. She didn’t sign up for being harassed. But she stepped into something that no one fully understands yet.”
Reece’s jaw tightened. “I figured.”
“You’re good at seeing everything,” Jason went on. “You always have been. You’re the best at watching people and seeing patterns. So, watching over a programmer shouldn’t be too much of a problem.”
Reece huffed out a quiet breath. “You’re underestimating programmers.”
Jason chuckled softly. “Never. Have you ever met your aunt?”
“I have.” Reece chuckled. He wasn’t averse to spending time with Maggie. She’d occupied most of his thoughts since he’d stepped in between her and those fuckwads. “Maggie might not appreciate me being her shadow for the next month.”
Another pause. This one was different. Warmer. “Reece, this isn’t an order,” Jason said. “You can say no.”
Reece didn’t hesitate. “I’m not going to.”
“I didn’t think you would. She’s quite attractive.”
Reece felt his neck start to warm. And changing the subject would be awesome right now, so he wound up and pitched the next question. “Is she in immediate danger?”
“Not that we can prove,” Jason replied. “But she’s on the trail of something, and she got close enough that people noticed.”
Reece’s grip tightened on the phone. Talon used to tease him about his damsel-in-distress weakness.
But if he could stop a woman from going through hell, he would.
That was the impact the Siege on Guardian had left on him.
But Maggie had gotten under his skin in a way that surprised him, but he wasn’t mad at it.
As a matter of fact, it felt … right to protect her. “Then you couldn’t get me to leave.”
“Good,” Jason said. “If she doesn’t want you to be with her, stay visible enough that she feels safe. Invisible enough that whoever’s watching doesn’t know what to make of you.”
Reece smiled faintly. “That’s kind of my thing.” He and Talon used to make a game of ghosting people in the city. It was a skill their Uncle Joseph had mastered and taught them with dogged determination.
“I know,” Jason said. His voice softened. “You’re not doing this alone, son. My specialist is watching the systems. I’m watching the board. Put your comms device back into service. My specialist will contact you if he sees anything you don’t or has emergency information for you.”
“Understood.”
Jason cleared his throat. “And Reece?”
“Yeah?”
“Check in when you can,” Jason said. “Be careful with her.”
Reece didn’t need clarification. While she was considered a victim at this point, things had a way of changing. That was always a fact in their line of work. “I will. Love you and tell Mom I’m fine. She worries.”
“We both do. I love you, too. Be careful.” The line went dead.
Reece stared at his phone for a moment longer, then stood and slid it onto the nightstand. The decision had already settled deep in his bones. Watching over Maggie Brooks wouldn't be a problem. What concerned him was how quickly it already felt personal.
Twenty minutes later, showered and dressed, he was reaching for his shoes when his phone vibrated. He grabbed and frowned for a second before a smile spread across his face.
Maggie Brooks: I'm awake. Thought I'd try coffee. Do you think I need an escort? Should I ask at the front desk?
He smiled despite himself, warmth spreading through his chest in a way he hadn't felt in months.
I’m sure you’re safe, but I need coffee, too. I’m on my way, he typed back.
* * *
The café was small and bright, tucked between a dive shop and a souvenir store that hadn't opened yet.
Morning sunlight poured through the front windows, painting everything in shades of gold and brilliant white.
The air inside smelled rich with roasted coffee beans and something sweet baking in the back, cinnamon maybe, or vanilla.
After ordering, Reece chose the table without thinking. Back to a wall. Clear sightlines to the door and windows. The chair scraped softly against the tile as he pulled the opposite chair out for her. Maggie noticed. He caught the flicker of awareness in her expression, but she didn't comment.
She wore jeans, sneakers, and a white Nebraska shirt with red lettering today, hair pulled into another messy bun. She looked more pulled together this morning. Less pale but still alert. Her fingers drummed a quiet rhythm against the tabletop, nervous energy that hadn't been there yesterday.
"You sleep well?" he asked as he sat down.
"Not really," she admitted. "But I'm functional."
"That counts."
She smiled faintly, and he caught the exhaustion around her eyes even through the attempt at humor. She sighed and asked, "You always this cheerful in the morning?"
He shrugged. "Only when I’m getting coffee. What about you? You’re up early."
The barista called out drinks in a voice that competed with the hiss and gurgle of the espresso machine.
Reece let his gaze move casually through the café, noting faces, posture, and exits.
A couple in the corner was sharing a pastry.
An older man was reading a newspaper, the pages rustling as he turned them.
A woman was on her laptop near the window, ear pods in and her toe tapping to a rhythm only she could hear.
Nothing jumped out. That didn't mean much, but it helped.
Maggie wrapped her hands around her mug when he sat it in front of her, palms pressing against the ceramic warmth. Steam rose between them, carrying the scent of a dark roast coffee. "I grew up on a farm. Early mornings are kind of hardwired."
"Nebraska, right?" He pointed to her shirt when she startled. “Second day in a row you’ve worn a Nebraska t-shirt.
She nodded. "Middle of nowhere with more cornfields and cattle than people. I like it though; it has a quiet you can hear."
Reece pictured it. Open space. Sky without edges. The kind of silence that lets you think. “My grandfather has a ranch in South Dakota. I spent a couple of months out there recently. I know exactly what you mean.”
She nodded. "I miss that sometimes," she said, her voice softer now. "Florida's loud."
"You don't seem to enjoy the loud," he said.
She laughed softly, the sound unguarded, and something in him responded to it. "That's because I'm usually behind a screen. The loudest I get is when my fingers hit the keypad too hard."
The waiter called out his name, and he excused himself to grab the pastries he’d ordered when he’d picked up their coffee.
He loved that laugh, the unguarded one, and yeah, he was truly screwed because he wanted to hear that laugh again.
There was something about this woman that didn’t let him stay aloof, and since he really didn’t want to anyway …
maybe he wasn’t screwed. Maybe he should just go with the flow.
It wasn’t like he was on an official assignment.
Yeah, he could rationalize the hell out of that argument.
After they finished their coffee, they walked the waterfront, staying where foot traffic was steady.
The air smelled like salt and sunscreen, and the warm humidity was already heavy despite the early hour.
Gulls cried overhead, their calls sharp and insistent.
Reece adjusted their path without breaking stride, angling away from narrow alleys and toward open stretches where the boardwalk widened, and people moved in clusters.
Maggie noticed again. He saw her tracking the shifts, and this time, she did say something.
"You do that on purpose."
"Do what?"
"Choose where we walk."
Reece shrugged, feeling the pull of old muscle memory. "Habit."
She studied him for a moment, her eyes searching his face, and he let her. Then she nodded. "I'm not complaining."
She talked as they walked, her voice competing gently against the soft sound of waves lapping against the seawall. When conversation stalled, he asked, “So, Nebraska, huh… Tell me about growing up in the middle of the country.”
Maggie smiled wide as she jumped into talking about growing up with siblings who’d never left the farm.
About Friday night football games, where the whole town showed up and you could smell popcorn and hot dogs from the parking lot.
About loyalty and staying power and how you didn't quit just because things got hard.
Her hands moved as she spoke, gesturing in small, quick motions that punctuated her words.
Reece listened, absorbing the picture she painted and liking her version of reality. The kind of roots that went deep.
"I still wear the t-shirts even when they're losing," she said.
"Especially when they're losing," Reece corrected.
She grinned, and something in his chest tightened pleasantly.