Chapter 30
Moose leaned against the countertop, the steam from his coffee warming his face.
Sunlight cut through the kitchen window, catching the dust motes dancing in the air and illuminating Elena at the table.
She was slicing strawberries, her laughter mixing with the sizzle of the griddle.
For a man trained to operate in the dark, the domestic brightness of this morning felt foreign, but welcome.
It was a peace he hadn’t felt since before he enlisted.
At the stove, Nancy flipped pancakes with the focus of a surgeon. Moose admired her precision. When she stacked the final pancake with a flourish, she looked up, catching his eye.
He shot her a thumbs-up and a wide grin. Nancy beamed, her cheeks flushing with a pride that didn't need words.
“Feeling good about breakfast, Nancy?” he asked.
She nodded enthusiastically, wiping her hands on her apron. It was a small moment, but it landed in his chest with a heavy warmth.
His gaze drifted back to Elena. She was wiping strawberry juice from her fingers, smiling at something Sadie had said.
The connection between them felt effortless.
Yet, the old doubts still whispered—the age gap, the baggage of his deployments, her vibrant future.
But when she looked up and caught him staring, offering a smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes, the doubts receded.
“Moose, you in there?” Elena teased, her voice cutting through the noise.
He chuckled, shaking his head. “Just checking the perimeter. Making sure we don’t serve breakfast to the wall.”
“Good plan.” She playfully nudged him as she passed with a bowl of fruit.
The kitchen was alive—laughter, clinking silverware, the smell of maple syrup. He was just realizing that loving her wasn’t a betrayal of the life he left behind, but a necessary step toward a future, when his threat radar pinged.
He looked toward the back door. Hank and Bear were lingering there. They weren't smiling. Their posture was rigid, their hands loose at their sides but ready. Moose recognized the look instantly from the Teams. Briefing mode.
Hank jerked his chin toward the yard. Outside.
Moose set his coffee down. The warmth of the kitchen seemed to drop away as he switched mental gears, following them out the screen door. The morning air was crisp, the sun casting long, stretching shadows across the grass.
“The Colorado Protectors—Jake, Thorn, and Enzo—are heading out today,” Hank said without preamble, stopping near the edge of the porch. “Bear leaves tomorrow for Virginia.”
Moose nodded, scanning the yard out of habit. “Figured as much. The op is done.”
“Not all of it,” Hank said, crossing his arms. He looked Moose dead in the eye. “We want you to stay. Officially. Be part of the Blue Ridge Protectors.”
Moose opened his mouth, but Hank held up a hand.
“Don’t answer yet. We’re not just asking for another gun. We need a body in the chair. Swede’s been helping Link look for Sammy’s mom in Basra. They got a lead—a strong one. Link is taking Sammy and heading back there to follow it up.”
“Basra?” Moose frowned. “That doesn’t sound like the kind of place for personal leave.”
“Exactly,” Hank said firmly. “This isn’t personal leave—it’s a mission. Swede needs help holding down the fort here. We’re building a new office, and we want you running it. And don’t worry about funding; I’ve got that covered.”
Moose let out a sharp, incredulous laugh. “Hank, you know my file. I’m a Close Combat Specialist. I breach doors and clear rooms. I don’t sit behind a desk running databases. You put me in front of a terminal, I’m going to go stir-crazy in a week.”
“I don’t need a hacker, Moose. I need a logistics man who understands OpSec,” Hank countered, his voice firm. “Background checks, police reports, organizing files. Swede will come down and train you. It keeps the intel moving while you hold down the fort here for your family.”
Moose looked out over the fields. The reminder of his family—his mom, his uncle Jim—landed hard. That was why he was here on emergency leave in the first place. He couldn’t deploy again, not with Jim still rehabbing.
“You didn’t pull me out here just to offer me data entry,” Moose said slowly, his eyes narrowing. “Bear’s too quiet. Spill it.”
Hank’s expression darkened. He stepped closer, dropping his voice. “You’re right. There’s something else. In a month, you and Elena have to go to Detroit.”
Moose stiffened, his body instinctively tensing. “The trial.”
“The Latin Counts,” Hank corrected. “It’s not just a trial anymore, Moose. They’re rattling cages. There have been threats against Elena. Specific ones. They know she’s the linchpin in the prosecution’s case against their hierarchy.”
The air left Moose’s lungs, replaced by a cold, calculating anger. He looked back at the house, seeing the silhouette of Elena moving through the kitchen window. “Credible?”
“Credible enough that I’m not comfortable sending her with just a US Marshal detail,” Bear interjected, his voice a low rumble. “That’s why we’re sending the team. Strength in numbers. We go with you.”
Moose felt the shift happen—the SEAL taking over the boyfriend. The peaceful morning, the pancakes—it all felt fragile suddenly. “She’s terrified of them, Hank. She hides it, but I see it.”
“We know,” Hank said softly. “That’s why we aren’t asking you to just drive her there. We’re asking you to be her Primary. Her shield. But we won’t let you do it alone.”
Moose ran a hand over his face, the weight of the decision settling onto his shoulders. It wasn’t just a job offer anymore. It was a protection detail.
“Where she goes, I go,” Moose said, his voice dropping an octave, deadly serious. “If the Counts want to get to her, they go through me.”
Hank nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Good. We’ll start the office build immediately. It needs to be secure.”
Moose paused, his tactical mind already assessing the layout. If they were staying, if they were hunkering down, Elena needed a safe zone inside the wire.
“If we build this office,” Moose said, pointing a finger at Hank, “I have a condition.”
Hank raised an eyebrow. “Name it.”
“Elena wants to finish her degree. Social justice program at USC. She’s brilliant, Hank, but she needs a perimeter. A space where she can focus without looking over her shoulder. I want a dedicated section of that office for her. Secure. Quiet.”
Hank’s face softened. “Done. We’ll section off a study area. Soundproofed.”
Bear grinned, breaking the tension. “We’ll make sure there’s a lock on the door, too. You know, for ‘studying.’”
Moose rolled his eyes, though he felt a flush of heat on his neck. “Keep it professional, Bear.”
“We’ll make it work,” Hank said, clapping Moose on the shoulder. “Go get Jim. We’ve got a lunch to get to.”
Moose checked his watch. He had to get to the hospital. But as he walked toward his truck, the weight of the conversation stayed with him. He wasn't just working a farm anymore. He was back in the fight.