Chapter 3
The Montana wind carried the scent of pine and fresh-cut timber as Bert Tomlinson stood on the rise overlooking Logan Bishop’s emerging compound.
One hand shaded his eyes from the morning sun.
It had been several years since he’d left the Navy and that life behind, yet here he was, back with some of the best men he’d ever served with as they built something new from the ground up.
The transformation of Logan’s property still amazed him.
A building was being constructed that would feature a ground-level area and offices, along with an expansive underground headquarters.
To the eye, it would appear to be a simple office, but the headquarters building had its entrance cleverly disguised as it descended into the hillside.
Below ground, the facility sprawled into a network of rooms that would become the hub of Lighthouse Security Investigations Montana.
Beyond the compound, the landscape rolled toward the mountains in waves of golden grassland and dark clusters of evergreens.
The peaks rose in the distance like ancient sentinels, their snowcapped summits sharp against the crystalline blue backdrop.
This was big sky country, unforgiving, isolated, and beautiful in a way that made a man feel both insignificant and strangely at peace.
And sitting proudly on one of the peaks was a light tower.
Decommissioned now, but one of six left in Montana, as previous reminders of how the lights guided aircraft safely over the mountains in the dark.
Bert breathed it in. After years of humidity and crowds in Virginia Beach, between the chaos of deployment after deployment, the vastness of Montana had become an unexpected balm.
With his partial hearing loss in his left ear, he’d continued to work on the team as support but realized that was not the job he wanted.
Logan had offered him something better… a chance to be part of building Lighthouse Security Investigations Montana from the ground up.
The sound of construction crews drew his attention back to the task at hand.
He turned and headed down the slope toward the main headquarters building, his boots crunching on the gravel path Logan had laid between the structures.
The crews had been working since dawn, and the finishing touches were finally coming together.
For now, the cavernous space had exposed ductwork and walls waiting for their final coat of paint, but it was ready to be filled with enough computer equipment to run a small country.
Logan had planned everything down to the smallest detail, a trait that had kept his SEAL team alive more times than Bert could count.
He walked back down the rise past the hangars where an airplane and two helicopters were housed.
Closer to the gate was the bunkhouse, complete with six rooms, two large bathrooms, and a shared kitchen and living room.
Right now, he and two other employees resided there.
Sisco Aguilar and Jim Devlin were the first two Keepers that Logan hired.
Bert was next, and Logan was actively interviewing more.
The only other building was a smaller wooden structure that Logan used as a temporary office. Heading inside, Bert began working on the equipment manifest he’d created, waiting for Logan to review it.
He looked up as Logan, Sisco, and Devlin walked into the temporary office. “Who’s coming in today, boss?”
Logan, tablet in hand as always, looked like he’d already put in a full day’s work, though it was still morning.
His dark hair was slightly disheveled, and there were smudges of dust on his jeans from wherever he’d been inspecting earlier.
Sisco and Devlin flanked him, both men looking more relaxed than Bert felt.
They’d settled into this new life with enviable ease.
“We’ve got to get someone in here to be the administrative manager,” Logan said, scanning his notes with a deep crinkle forming between his brows.
“Christ, anyone to keep me from having to handle more paperwork,” Devlin grumbled, dropping into one of the folding chairs scattered around what currently served as their makeshift conference area.
Blueprints, supply catalogs, and coffee cups in various states of emptiness littered the card table between them.
Bert nodded his agreement. “I could use the help with ordering and handling the equipment coming in. The manifest for the weapons room alone is turning into a full-time job.” He’d been in military support, after his injury, but this was different.
This was building something from nothing, so every decision mattered.
The four men settled around the card table, and Bert couldn’t help but appreciate the moment. Here they were, men who’d served together in some of the most dangerous places on earth, now sitting in what amounted to a large wooden shed in Montana, planning the future of a security company.
“Well, you’re in luck,” Logan said, setting his clipboard down.
“Got someone coming in today. Mary Smithwick. Worked in logistics for the Navy. Then she got out and worked as a civilian admin for an Army colonel. I got a call from both Colonel Bennett and Admiral Brenner. You remember the admiral, Bert?”
Bert did. Admiral Brenner had coordinated with their team on multiple occasions. If he was recommending someone, that carried weight.
“He gave her the highest recommendation,” Logan continued. “She was originally from Montana and wants to stay in this area.”
Bert felt a slight grin tug at his lips, imagining an efficient, no-nonsense woman in her fifties who’d spent her career keeping colonels organized and would now descend on their operation like a drill sergeant with a filing system.
God knew they needed it. Maybe she’d be able to make sense of the chaos that currently passed for their administrative setup.
“The only request she has coming in today,” Logan said, his tone carefully neutral, “is that no one try to assist her. She said if she’s going to work here, she needs to do it independently.”
Devlin’s chin jerked back, his eyebrows drawing together. “Independently? What the fuck does that mean? We work as a team.”
Logan met his gaze steadily. “I know, but it’s important to her that we see she can handle herself. So we respect that. Clear?”
Bert shared a confused glance with Devlin and Sisco. The request struck him as odd, but glancing back at Logan, he saw their boss had already made up his mind about it. Logan’s expression was calm. It was the same look he’d worn when planning missions and wasn’t interested in debate.
“Okay,” Bert muttered, shrugging. He turned his attention back to the equipment manifest, making notes about delivery schedules and storage requirements.
They’d need everything organized before the rest of the Keepers were hired.
Logan was building this operation to match what Mace Hanover and Carson Dyer had built on the coasts. That meant being prepared for anything.
Several hours later, Bert emerged from the main headquarters building, squinting against the bright afternoon sun.
The air had warmed, and he’d shed his jacket somewhere inside, working in just his T-shirt that stretched across shoulders still broad and muscled from years of carrying heavy gear through hostile terrain.
His body might have been sidelined from active duty, but he’d refused to let it soften.
The weight room in the bunkhouse was where he was most mornings before dawn, maintaining the strength and conditioning that had once been mission-critical.
Old habits died hard, and Bert had learned that keeping his body sharp helped quiet the restless part of his mind that missed being in the field.
Activity near the temporary office building caused him to glance that way.
That was where Logan conducted interviews, keeping potential hires away from the sensitive areas until they were officially part of the team.
Bert’s tactical mind automatically cataloged the sight lines, the approach routes, the defensive positions.
He shook his head at the ingrained habits from his SEAL days.
He spotted Sisco and Devlin putting the finishing touches on a ramp leading to the office’s small porch.
They’d built it this morning, following Logan’s specifications, though, at the time, Bert hadn’t thought much about why it was needed.
Now, watching them secure the last of the boards, he felt a flicker of curiosity.
Another noise caught his attention. The electronic gate system, one of the first security measures they’d installed, hummed as it opened.
Bert turned, shading his eyes, and watched as Logan strode toward the entrance.
A white van with handicap plates was waiting.
Logan worked the manual override, waving the vehicle through and pointing toward the office building.
Bert walked over to join Devlin and Sisco, arriving just as Logan did. The four men stood together, a united front, though Bert still wasn’t sure what they were about to witness. The van pulled to a stop on the packed dirt near the building, and for a moment, nothing happened.
Then, through the windshield, Bert could see movement inside the vehicle.
The back passenger door slid open automatically with a mechanical whir.
A woman sat in a wheelchair just inside, working with practiced efficiency to position herself at the edge of the ramp that deployed from the van.
She wore dark jeans, a burgundy blouse that looked professional but not stuffy, and her dark brown hair was pulled back in a practical ponytail.
Even from this distance, Bert could see she was younger than he’d expected. Much younger.