Chapter Six
Ty sat in the small office he and Oren had commandeered on site, the scent of sawdust and fresh plaster still clinging to the air.
Morning sun filtered through the high windows, casting golden stripes across the rough-hewn table and the open architectural plans spread across its surface.
He ran his fingers over the lines of the design, heart full.
He smiled to himself, still basking in the glow of last night’s passion and this morning’s lazy intimacy.
They’d shared breakfast curled in Dale’s kitchen, sipping coffee, stealing kisses, and laughing over eggs and toast. Oren had perched on the counter, teasing Dale about his obsession with sourdough while Ty had leaned in to steal more than just toast. It was easy—so damn easy.
No awkwardness. Just three men in their own rhythm, a harmony that felt both brand new and as old as time.
Ty had caught Dale watching Oren with this fond, amused look, and when their eyes had met, Ty knew. They were all in this. All of them.
The door creaked open and Ty looked up to see Marsh stride in, manila envelope in hand, a grim set to his jaw.
“Got a minute?” Marsh asked.
Ty nodded, pushing the plans aside. “For you, I have three. What’s that?”
Marsh slapped the envelope on the table and pulled out a few sheets. “I finished that background check you wanted me to do. Carson Rourke.”
Ty’s jaw tightened. He hadn’t liked the guy from the start, and the way Oren had looked after that encounter had kept a stone lodged in his gut ever since. He had no idea what Marsh was there to tell him, but he knew how he hoped it would help.
“Anything we can use to get rid of him?”
Marsh grunted. “Not yet. Your HR team says we need cause, and so far, he’s toeing the line. But something about him rubs wrong. So, I dug deeper.”
Ty leaned forward. “And?”
“His resume checks out, but I made a few calls to people who weren’t on the reference list. Turns out Carson’s been following Redline Developments for a while—trying to get on your crew.
Every time you moved to a new job, he’d find work nearby.
If he couldn’t get hired directly, he’d settle for subcontractors or nearby sites.
One guy said he’s been honing his skills and experience just to get close enough to slip into your ranks.
That’s not just persistence—that’s obsession. ”
Ty exhaled slowly. “Great. Just what we need.”
Marsh slid into the seat opposite him. “There’s more. I can’t find anything about him from more than three years ago, and that just does not happen. I find everything about everybody. If I can’t find anything, then that means there is nothing there to find. He did not exist until three years ago.”
Ty frowned. “How can that be?”
“Simple,” Marsh said with a shrug. “Our boy Carson paid someone to set him up as of three years ago, but couldn’t afford the back story.”
Oren stepped further into the room, a faint frown between his brows. “Carson? You’re looking into him?”
“Yeah,” Ty said, almost defiantly. He expected pushback, but when Oren met his eyes, there was something else there—relief.
“Good,” Oren said quietly. “There’s something I need to tell you, we didn’t get to it last night, and I know I promised but we were, ah, kinda distracted.”
Marsh grinned. “Really?”
Ty rolled his eyes at Marsh as he tapped out a message on his phone. “What are you, a teenage girl?”
Marsh laughed. “Yes, I am, sometimes! All wrapped up in a hot as hell package with more than just your average sprinkling of intelligence.” He walked toward the door.
“Let me know if there is more that I can do.” He looked at Oren over his shoulder.
“You two are Dale’s. Which makes you ours.
Which means that whatever you are going through, we will hunt down and cut something vital off before we end them and bury them out behind the shooting range. ”
With that he left.
Oren looked over at Ty with a frown. “You think he was serious?”
Ty didn’t even have to think about it. “Hell, yes, he’s serious. And if it weren’t the team doing the hunting, it sure as shit would be me and Dale.”
Oren nodded, tension easing from his shoulders just slightly. “I guess that makes sense. If either of you were in this situation, then I sure as hell would be going huntin’.”
Ty moved around the desk, pulling Oren into his arms. “Even though we now have an excuse to get rid of that prick, I still want to hear what the bastard said to you yesterday.”
Oren nodded as he placed his own arms around Ty. “Yeah, I had a feeling you weren’t going to let that slide.”
“Nor should he,” Dale said as he strode into the office. “Because I sure as hell wouldn’t either.”
Oren turned to him, surprise flickering in his eyes. “How did you know to come?”
“Ty messaged me,” Dale said, stepping closer, “but I was heading this way anyway. Had a gap in my schedule.”
He moved to stand behind Oren, resting a hand gently on his shoulder before turning him slightly so he could see his eyes. “Tell us what he said, Oren.”
Oren swallowed hard and then nodded. “He didn’t threaten me outright,” he began, his voice controlled, but tight. “But he said things that ... triggered me. He knew about me being a POW, the scars, the blood, the way I—”
“Stop.” Ty’s voice was harsh. “Don’t go back there, stay here with us.” He hated this. Hated the thought of Oren standing there, reliving those horrors.
Oren nodded, took a deep breath, then continued, voice dropping lower. “It shut me down, Ty. Completely. I was frozen. Couldn’t move, couldn’t think. He knew exactly what to say. If he’d wanted to hurt me, I wouldn’t have been able to do a fucking thing to stop him.”
Ty moved closer, pulling him in tighter. “That’s not okay. None of that is okay.”
Dale brushed a hand down Oren’s back. “I’m going to rip that fucker’s spleen out through his throat.”
“Eli’s bringing in new therapists,” Ty said. “I think it’s time you talked to one. Someone who can help.”
Oren nodded, expression tired but resolute. “Yeah. After freezing like that, I think so, too.” He looked at him and Dale. “I can’t have that happen at a time when I need to protect either of you. I’ll talk to them when they arrive.”
Ty kissed the top of his head, his voice rumbled low. “Good.” And I’m going to have a little conversation with Carson Rourke before he leaves. If for no other reason than to punch him right in the damn face.
Oren looked up at both him and Dale. “Right, then, before I forget I have work to do, I’m going to head back to the site. See you both later?”
Dale nodded and leaned in to kiss them both. “Damn straight, Ty’s cooking at my place tonight.”
Ty jolted. “I am?”
Dale winked as he walked backward out of the office. “Yep, I’m not going to be the only one cooking in this relationship, so you’d better bring your culinary A game, my man.”
He was out the door and gone before Ty knew it.
Oren laughed. “Shit, Ty, what the hell are you going to do? I don’t think Mr I-can-make-pasta-from-scratch there is going to like your go-to sloppy joes.
” Oren followed Dale’s move and practically moon walked out the door.
“I’ll leave you to scroll through recipes for the afternoon and look forward to trying whatever you come up with tonight. ”
Ty shook his head and wondered at how his life had changed in such a short amount of time, and how happy he was that it had. He was looking forward to dinner tonight, God knew what he was going to cook. But for now, he had work today. And a construction worker to send off in style.
****
Bateman stood at the head of the long reclaimed-wood table of the conference and planning room of Ridge House, arms crossed, eyes moving across the familiar faces of the remaining Pathfinders.
As the leader of the team, his presence grounded the room.
Marsh had called the meeting, and when Marsh called a meeting, everyone showed up, because he was usually sharing intel he’d picked up from his intelligence work.
Ricky leaned back in his chair, foot propped on the edge of the table, hands crossed across his stomach.
Hogan sat quietly near the back, flipping through things on a tablet.
Dale was seated beside Ricky, hands steepled, jaw tensed.
Marsh paced near the big monitor at the front, a tablet in one hand.
“We’ve got a problem,” Marsh said without any preamble, clicking the monitor to life using the tablet. It displayed a map of the Ridge overlaid with red markers. “Or more than likely, several.”
He clicked again, and another overlay appeared—flight paths, timestamps, static images. “We’ve recorded over a hundred separate attempts in the last four weeks to breach our security cameras and perimeter sensors. Mostly low-grade hackers, easily repelled. But it’s persistent.”
Ricky whistled. “Damn, Marsh. For a guy with only one leg, you sure manage to be scarily competent.”
Marsh shot him a dry look. “I’m missing a leg, Ricky, not IQ points. Unlike some of us.”
Bateman chuckled, but the levity faded quickly as the team absorbed the gravity of what Marsh was laying out.
“And it’s not just external hacks,” Marsh continued. “We’ve logged two physical drone flyovers—cheap civilian models but controlled like recon scouts. Someone’s watching us.”
Dale leaned forward. “And we are sure this has nothing to do with Carson?”
Bateman went still, the kind of stillness that sucked the heat out of a room.
When he went predator mode and turned his gaze on you, it was like being skewered by a spotlight.
Dale had seen seasoned operatives stumble under that look.
Bateman could strip you bear with nothing but a look—dragging truths out of the dark like a confession from your bones.
Add to that the resting homicide face, and the fact he hated being kept in the dark, and you had a recipe for dread.
“Something you need to tell us, Sergeant?” Bateman’s voice was calm, low—but it hit like a hammer.