Chapter 9 #2
Devlin came through next, followed by Cole, Timothy Clemons, and Dalton Dolby.
Casper slipped in with his usual silent grace, and Mary still couldn’t quite get used to how the man moved without making a sound.
Aldo Caspani had earned his codename honestly.
But he nodded at her with something that might have been warmth in his dark eyes, and she counted that as progress.
Casper didn’t give his trust easily, but over the months, she’d seen him relax with the team.
Cory Brighton was right behind him, the former CIA operative and expert marksman who’d arrived on a motorcycle and somehow convinced Logan to hire him on the spot. He had a quiet confidence that Mary appreciated, and they’d bonded over their shared love of organization and detailed planning.
Landon Sommers, the former FBI agent who’d left the bureau to join Logan’s team, grabbed a cup and immediately started reviewing the information on the tablet Mary had set out.
He had a methodical approach to everything that reminded Mary of herself, and they’d developed an easy working relationship.
Sadie Hargrove was almost the last to arrive, followed very closely by Todd.
She was the only other woman on the team, and Mary had been thrilled to have another female presence in the male-dominated environment.
Sadie was brilliant with computers and cybersecurity, quiet but fiercely competent.
The two women were on their way to becoming friends.
Although Sadie had never divulged what had happened between her and Todd, Mary was certain there was a story there.
But until Sadie was ready to talk about it, Mary just watched with interest.
Out of all the Keepers, it was Bert who captured Mary’s attention, as he always did.
He came through the door with Logan, the two of them deep in conversation about something equipment-related.
Bert’s hair was slightly windblown, wearing jeans that fit his lean muscles and a dark-green Henley that did absolutely nothing to hide the breadth of his shoulders.
Mary’s heart did a flip-flop… the one she’d given up trying to control months ago. Months of working closely with Bert Tomlinson had done nothing to diminish her awareness of him. If anything, it had gotten worse. Or better, depending on how she looked at it.
He glanced up as he reached for a coffee cup, and their eyes met. The smile that crossed his face was warm and genuine, the kind that crinkled the corners of his blue eyes and made something in Mary’s chest feel both tight and expansive at the same time.
“Morning, Mary,” he said, his deep voice carrying easily across the room. “You’re here early again.”
“Someone has to make sure you all get your caffeine fix,” she replied, pleased that her voice came out light and teasing rather than breathless, which was how she felt whenever he smiled at her like that.
The morning briefing took place in the lower-level operations center, where everyone gathered around a large table while Logan reviewed the day’s assignments.
Mary answered questions about supply orders and scheduling and coordinated with Bert on an equipment delivery expected that afternoon.
It was routine, comfortable, and she loved every minute of it.
But she was also acutely aware of the dynamics in the room, the unspoken questions that had been present since her first day and would likely always be.
She caught the occasional glance, saw the way some of the newer Keepers watched her navigate the space.
These were former service members who’d spent their careers in physically demanding roles, who’d survived because they could run fast, climb walls, and carry heavy gear over rough terrain.
She never felt judged by them, but understood they were probably curious as to how she ended up in a wheelchair.
The accident of three years ago wasn’t a secret, but it still burned in her chest when she thought of how the driver, who was on their cell phone instead of noticing their light had turned red, changed the entire trajectory of her life.
Now, the best way to prove herself was to show up every single day and do her job better than anyone else could.
It had become her lifeline, her measuring stick for worth.
If she showed up, pushed through whatever challenges arose, and persevered, then she belonged.
She knew it wasn’t demanded of her by the others, but she demanded it for herself.
It was exhausting at times, but also empowering in its own way.
Mary had noticed over the months that Bert had been watching her carefully. Not in an invasive way, not with pity or doubt. But with a quiet attentiveness that suggested he was always aware of potential obstacles before they became problems.
When her wheelchair had caught on the edge of a desk repeatedly, making it difficult to maneuver in the space, she’d come in one morning to find the desk had been moved out six inches. No announcement, no fuss. Just quietly taken care of.
When the ramp outside her office had become slick with ice during a winter storm, she'd arrived the next day to find a covered extension had been added to protect the ramp from snow and rain. She’d asked Bert about it, and he’d just shrugged. “It’s a good safety feature… for all of us.”
There were a dozen other small adjustments and modifications she hadn’t asked for, but that made her life easier.
A lower shelf in the supply room. A reconfigured filing system that put the most-used files within easy reach.
The break room was reorganized so that everything was accessible without needing to ask for help.
Bert never said anything about these changes. He never drew attention to them or made her feel as though she were being accommodated. He just quietly made her environment work better, and then acted like it was no big deal.
It made her feelings for him even more complicated. How was she supposed to maintain professional distance from someone who paid such careful attention to her needs without making her feel diminished?
The morning passed in a flurry of activity.
Supply orders to process, budget reports to review, phone calls with vendors, and coordination with the security system installers who were delivering the final touches to the perimeter monitoring.
Mary loved the controlled chaos of it, the way her organizational skills were constantly put to use, and she felt essential to the operation.
She’d missed this in her last job. The camaraderie, the sense of being part of something important, the knowledge that her contributions mattered. There, she’d been just an admin, filing papers and managing a colonel’s calendar. Here, she was a Keeper.
Logan had made that title official months ago during their first formal team meeting in the completed headquarters.
He’d looked around the room at his assembled team and said, “You all know Mary as our administrative manager. But she’s more than that.
She’s integral to this operation, and she’s earned her place as a Keeper. Don’t ever forget that, Mary.”
The applause had been genuine, the congratulations warm, and Mary had felt tears prick her eyes even as she’d smiled and thanked them all.
Sisco had hugged her, Devlin had clapped her on the back hard enough to make her cough, and Bert had taken her hand with that careful grip and said quietly, “We couldn’t make it without you. ”
He then softly added, “I couldn’t make it without you.”
She’d gotten her lighthouse tattoo the next week.
The same one they all wore on their shoulders, a symbol of who they were and what they stood for.
The tattoo artist hadn’t managed to hide his surprise when she’d rolled in, but he’d done beautiful work, and now when Mary looked at the delicate lines of the lighthouse on her shoulder, she felt a fierce pride.
She wasn’t just the woman in the wheelchair, but she was one of them.
Lunch was a casual affair. Everyone grabbed sandwiches from the fridge that Mary kept stocked, eating while working or gathered in the break room. Mary was reviewing a contract from a new weapons supplier when her phone rang.
“Ms. Smithwick? This is Carol from Mountain View Construction. I wanted to let you know that the builders are now filing for the final county inspection for the occupancy permit. You should have it in your hand by the end of the week. Congratulations!”
Mary’s breath caught. The house she’d bought three months ago was almost ready for her to move in. Trying to find an accessible house wasn’t working, so she had looked for a house that met her qualifications and could be adapted into a home.
“That’s wonderful.” Her voice shook slightly with excitement. “Thank you so much for your help with this, Carol.”
After confirming the details and agreeing to meet for the final walkthrough, Mary ended the call and just sat for a moment, letting it sink in.
She was going to own a house that would become her home.
Not rent an apartment, and not just make do with a house that sort of fit her needs, but actually own her own fully accessible home.
The apartment on Cutter’s Lane had served its purpose, but it had never felt permanent.
It was a stepping stone, a place to land while she figured out what she really wanted.
And what she’d wanted, she’d realized over the winter, was a real home.
Something that was hers; something she could modify and adapt and make perfect for her needs.
She’d looked for several months, dragging Bert along to look at potential houses.
Smiling, she knew that dragging wasn’t the right word.
He came with enthusiasm, making suggestions and comments with each home they toured.
Most houses in the area weren’t accessible, which meant she needed something that could be modified.
The house on Sage Creek Road had been perfect—single story, three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and enough space that she could really spread out.
The layout was good, and Bert had connected her with the contractors who’d worked on the compound.
They’d drawn up plans for modifications to make it fully accessible and beautiful, and started work almost immediately.
“You okay?”
Mary looked up to find Bert standing at her desk, concern evident on his face. She realized she’d been sitting there staring into space with a goofy smile on her face.
“I’m better than okay,” she said, unable to contain her excitement. “I just got a call from my contractor. My house is ready for the occupancy permit!”
Bert’s face transformed, his smile wide and genuine. “Mary, that’s fantastic! I can’t wait to see it. When can you move in?”
“I don’t know. Maybe as early as this weekend.”
“You’ll have to let me know,” he said. “The whole team will want to help.”
The offer warmed her, but she shook her head. “You don’t have to do that. I can hire movers.”
His expression turned stubborn, a look she’d learned meant he wasn’t going to back down.
“Mary, we’re a team. That means we help each other.
Besides, do you really want to trust your stuff to random movers when you’ve got a dozen highly trained friends who can lift heavy things, follow directions, and work for pizza and beer? ”
When he put it that way, Mary had to laugh. “Okay, you’ve got a point. Thank you, Bert. That means a lot.”
“That’s what friends do.” Something in his tone made her look at him more closely. His expression was warm but guarded, as if he wanted to say more but was holding back.
The moment stretched between them, charged with something Mary couldn’t quite name but felt in every nerve ending. Then Bert cleared his throat and stepped back. “I should let you get back to work. But congratulations again, Mary. You deserve this.”
He was gone before she could respond, leaving her staring at the empty doorway and wondering, not for the first time, what exactly was happening between them.