Chapter 3 #2
She rolled forward, and the wheelchair moved smoothly down the ramp to the hard-packed ground. Once at the bottom, she operated the controls, and the ramp reversed smoothly into the van. The side door slid shut with a solid click.
Bert took a step forward, the movement automatic. Assisting was deeply ingrained through years of protecting teammates, watching flanks, and covering exits to make sure everyone under his care made it home safely. But Logan’s hand shot out, catching his arm with a grip that carried authority.
His boss shook his head once, firm but not harsh, and Bert forced himself to step back.
His jaw tightened with the effort of remaining still, muscles coiling with the tension of going against every protective instinct he’d honed over a decade of service.
In combat, hesitation could get people killed.
But this wasn’t combat, and sometimes the best way to help someone was to give them the space to prove they didn’t need help.
It went against everything his SEAL training had drilled into him, but Bert understood the message. This woman had asked to do this alone. Making that request had shown her strength, and following it was testing his own.
The woman rolled toward them, moving with a confidence that suggested she’d been doing this long enough that she knew how to handle the wheelchair. As she drew closer, Bert got his first clear look at her face, and something in his chest stuttered.
She was beautiful. Not magazine-cover beautiful, with heavy makeup or a photoshopped face, but real.
Intelligent eyes stared up at him. A determined set to her jaw and a warm smile transformed her features from merely pretty to genuinely striking.
She looked to be in her early thirties, and the spattering of light freckles across her nose suggested she might enjoy time outdoors under the Montana sky.
There was something about the way her hands rested on the wheels of her chair and the directness of her gaze that spoke of competence and no small amount of pride.
She reached the base of the newly built ramp and looked up at the four men standing above her. Her warm smile widened. “Hello. I’m Mary Smithwick. I believe I’m expected.”
Her clear, confident voice had just a hint of a local accent, suggesting she was originally from Montana. There was no tremor of nervousness, no hint of apology. She simply looked at them as if this were any other job interview, which Bert supposed it was.
Logan stepped forward and descended the ramp so he stood on level ground with her. His hand reached out for her to shake. “I’m Logan Bishop. Welcome to Lighthouse Security Investigations Montana.”
“Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Bishop. Admiral Brenner spoke very highly of you.”
Logan’s expression softened slightly… as much as it ever did. “Both his and the colonel’s recommendation carries a lot of weight here. Let me introduce you to the team.” He gestured to each man in turn. “This is Sisco Aguilar, Jim Devlin, and Bert Tomlinson.”
Sisco and Devlin moved down the ramp, turning on their natural charm. “Ms. Smithwick, it’s a pleasure,” Sisco said, his smile genuine.
Then it was Bert’s turn. He descended the ramp, feeling uncharacteristically awkward as he approached.
Up close, Mary Smithwick’s eyes were a light blue that seemed to shift in the sunlight, and Bert found himself caught off guard by the directness of her gaze.
He’d faced down enemy combatants without flinching and had stared down the barrel of more guns than he could count.
But this woman, looking up at him with intelligence and determination radiating from her, somehow knocked him sideways in a way he’d never felt before.
She looked up at him expectantly, one hand extended, and for a moment, every coherent thought in his head simply evaporated.
“Welcome. Um... welcome,” he managed, his voice coming out rougher than intended. What the fuck is wrong with me? He wanted to make a good first impression, but he could hear the way he’d stumbled over his greeting.
Her hand was warm in his, her grip firm and assured.
It was the solid grip of someone who’d learned that respect was earned through competence, not granted through pity.
Bert’s own hands were calloused from years of handling weapons, rope work, and now the thousand physical demands of working on the compound in any capacity Logan required.
He was careful not to grip too hard, aware that his strength could be overwhelming, but she met his handshake with equal confidence.
He held on perhaps a beat too long before releasing her, suddenly aware that he was staring and probably making her uncomfortable with his intensity.
Her smile faltered slightly, a flicker of concern crossing her face, and Bert inwardly cursed his fumbling.
He’d faced down enemy combatants and managed logistics for SEAL teams in some of the most hostile environments on earth.
But apparently, shaking hands with a beautiful woman had him tongue-tied like a teenager.
Before he could redeem himself with something more intelligent, Logan gestured toward the office entrance. “Let’s head inside, and we can talk there.”
Mary nodded and maneuvered her wheelchair toward the ramp with easy grace. Bert watched her ascend it, noting the strength in her arms and the way she navigated the incline without hesitation. She was accomplished and clearly determined that everyone knew it.
Mary rolled through after Logan, and Bert hung back, watching them disappear into the building. Sisco and Devlin were already heading back toward the headquarters structure.
“Damn, she’s a pretty one,” Sisco said, his voice carrying back to Bert.
“If she’s half as efficient as what Logan said the colonel told him, she’ll be a welcome addition,” Devlin enthused.
Bert stood alone for a moment, staring at the closed door of the office building, the afternoon sun warm on his shoulders. Something had shifted in the past five minutes that he couldn’t quite name but felt nonetheless. He’d come to Montana to build a new life, to find purpose after the Navy.
The familiar weight of his tactical awareness settled over him… all the calculations that used to keep people alive in combat zones.
Except there were no threats here. Just a woman in a wheelchair who’d handled her arrival with the kind of quiet competence Bert recognized from his best teammates. The ones who didn’t need to announce their capabilities, who simply demonstrated them through action.
He’d watched her maneuver that wheelchair with the same practiced efficiency he’d seen in operators handling their weapons.
There was no wasted movement, and she exuded confidence in the equipment and total awareness of her environment.
She’d known exactly how much space she needed, exactly how to position herself, and exactly when to engage and when to observe.
That took training. Discipline. The kind of mental toughness that didn’t come naturally but was forged through adversity and refusing to quit.
Bert recognized it because he’d lived it.
His hearing loss had forced him to develop new ways of operating and new strategies for navigating a world that wasn’t designed for his limitations.
He’d learned to position himself strategically in conversations, to read lips, to use visual cues to compensate for what his damaged ear couldn’t detect.
Maybe that was what had knocked him sideways about Mary Smithwick. Not just that she was beautiful in a way that made his chest tight and his thoughts scatter. But that she carried herself like someone who’d faced hard things and refused to let them define her limits.
Like someone who understood that strength came in many forms.
Bert’s jaw tightened as he forced himself to turn away from the office building.
He had equipment manifests to finish, storage to organize, and weapons systems to catalog.
All the detailed, meticulous work that kept operations running smoothly.
The kind of work that had been his salvation after the explosion that ended his field career, and he was still an integral part of something that mattered.
If Logan hired Mary Smithwick, and Bert had a feeling he would, then they’d be working side by side—every day. And any attraction he felt for her would need to be kept closely guarded so it wouldn’t impede their working relationship or the business Logan was building.
As Bert descended into the cool shadows of the underground facility, he couldn’t quite shake the memory of blue eyes and a firm handshake and the strange certainty that his carefully ordered life was about to get a lot more complicated.
But maybe, after a couple of years of feeling like he was just going through the motions, complicated was exactly what he needed to feel more alive.