Chapter 38
By mid-afternoon the next day, Rachel's eyes were burning from staring at spreadsheets. She'd been at the dining table since morning, cross-referencing convoy manifests with casualty reports, and the numbers were starting to blur together.
She rubbed her face and leaned back in her chair. Across the table, Ghost was equally focused, his laptop screen reflecting in his dark eyes as he worked through encrypted communications Echo had sent overnight.
The house was quiet except for the tap of keys and the hum of the refrigerator cycling on in the kitchen. Outside, she could hear a lawnmower running somewhere down the street, the rhythmic back-and-forth punctuated by the distant cry of gulls.
Ghost looked up, catching her rubbing her eyes. "You need a break."
"I'm fine."
"You've been staring at that screen for five hours straight." He closed his laptop. "Come on. Let's get out of here for a bit."
"We should keep working. The team comes back tomorrow and—"
"And you’ll be useless if you burn out before then." He stood and came around the table, holding out his hand. "Fresh air, twenty minutes, then we can come back to this."
Rachel looked at his outstretched hand, then at her laptop screen full of data that wasn't making sense anymore. He was right. She needed to clear her head.
She took his hand and let him pull her to her feet.
Ten minutes later, they were walking through the neighborhood.
The afternoon sun was warm on Rachel's shoulders, the ocean breeze cutting through the heat just enough to make it comfortable.
Ghost's hand was wrapped around hers, their fingers laced together as they walked down the quiet residential street.
It was different, being outside during daylight. Yesterday's Target trip had felt exposed, dangerous. But this, walking through his neighborhood in the middle of a Saturday afternoon, felt almost normal. Like they were just a couple taking a walk. Like there weren't people actively hunting her.
They passed houses with manicured lawns, kids playing basketball in a driveway, an elderly man watering his garden. The normalcy of it all made Rachel's chest ache. This was the life other people got to have. The one she'd never let herself imagine.
"You okay?" Ghost asked, his thumb brushing across her knuckles.
"Yeah. Just... taking it in." She gestured at the neighborhood around them. "It's so peaceful here."
"That's why I bought here. After years of war zones, I needed..." He paused, searching for the word. "Quiet. I needed quiet."
They walked in silence for a while, following the curve of the street toward a small park at the end of the block. The smell of jasmine hung heavy in the air from someone's front garden. A dog barked from inside a house, followed by a woman's voice telling it to hush.
Rachel could feel her shoulders starting to relax, the tension from hours of work beginning to ease. Ghost's hand was warm in hers, his presence beside her solid and grounding.
They reached the park, just a small green space with a playground and a few benches overlooking the bay. Ghost led her to a bench in the shade of a massive eucalyptus tree. They sat, and he kept her hand in his, his thumb still moving in those slow circles that had become familiar.
"Better?" he asked.
"Yeah. You were right. I needed this."
"I'm right a lot. You should listen to me more often."
She bumped his shoulder with hers. "Don't get cocky."
He smiled and leaned back, his arm coming around her shoulders. Rachel settled against his side, watching the water in the distance. A sailboat cut across the bay, its white sail bright against the blue water.
Her phone rang.
The sound shattered the peace. Rachel's whole body tensed. She pulled the phone from her pocket, her stomach already dropping.
But it wasn't an unknown number this time.
Miles.
Her editor.
She looked at Ghost. He straightened, his expression shifting immediately from relaxed to alert. He nodded.
She answered, her heart already racing. "Miles?"
"Rachel. Jesus Christ, where the hell are you?" His voice was strained, ragged around the edges like he'd been yelling or hadn't slept. Or both.
"I'm safe. What's wrong?"
"What's wrong? What's—Rachel, two guys came by the office yesterday. Military. Asked a lot of questions about you. Where you were. Who you'd been talking to. What stories you were working on."
Rachel's blood went cold despite the warm afternoon sun. Her free hand gripped Ghost's thigh. "What did you tell them?"
"Nothing. I told them you were freelance, that I hadn't heard from you in weeks, and that they could fuck off without a warrant.
" He paused, and she heard him take a shaky breath.
"But Rachel, they weren't asking. They were threatening.
Said there'd be consequences if I was lying.
One of them, the one with the crew cut and the dead eyes, he leaned across my desk and said, 'People who protect criminals become criminals themselves. ' Like some mob shit."
Ghost's jaw tightened. His hand covered hers where it gripped his leg.
"Miles, listen to me." Rachel kept her voice calm despite the panic clawing at her chest. "Those men are not the good guys. They're part of what I've been investigating. If they come back, you call a lawyer. You don't talk to them. You understand?"
"Rachel, what the hell have you gotten yourself into?"
"I can't explain right now. But I need you to trust me. Don't talk to anyone about me. Not military, not police, not anyone. Can you do that?"
There was a long pause. She could hear traffic in the background on his end, the honk of a horn, the wail of a siren. Normal city sounds. Normal life.
"Yeah," he said finally. "Yeah, I can do that. But Rach? Whatever this is, it sounds bad. Like career-ending bad. Or worse."
"I know. That's why I'm being careful."
"Just... don't get yourself killed, okay? We've got a deadline next month and I can't replace you."
Despite everything, she almost smiled. That was Miles, jokes to cover fear. "I'll do my best."
"Call me when this is over. We'll get drunk and you can tell me the whole story."
"Deal."
She ended the call and sat there, phone in her lap, staring at the sailboat still cutting across the water like nothing had changed. But everything had changed. They'd gone to Miles. Used official authority to threaten him. They were escalating.
"Rachel." Ghost's voice pulled her back. His hand cupped her face, turning her to look at him. "Hey. Look at me."
She met his eyes.
"What if they hurt him?" she whispered. "What if they—"
"They won't." Ghost's voice was certain. "They're trying to scare him. If they wanted to hurt him, they would have done it already. This is intimidation. Psychological warfare. And it's not going to work because Miles isn't going to give you up."
Rachel took a shaky breath. "You can't know that."
"Yeah, I can. You heard him. He told them to fuck off without a warrant. That's not a guy who's going to crack under pressure." His hand slid to the back of her neck, grounding her. "And tomorrow the team's back. We finalize the op. And then we end this."
She nodded, trying to let his certainty anchor her. Trying not to think about all the ways this could go wrong.
Ghost pulled her against him, wrapping both arms around her. She pressed her face into his neck, breathing him in. Cedar and warmth and something that was becoming synonymous with safety in her mind.
They sat like that for a while, his arms around her, the sounds of the neighborhood continuing around them. Kids laughing on the playground. The lawnmower still running in the distance. Life going on despite the danger circling closer.
"Come on," Ghost said finally. "Let's head back."
They walked back hand in hand, but the peace from earlier was gone. Rachel couldn't stop running through scenarios in her head. What if they went back to Miles? What if they found her parents? Her brother? How many people were at risk because of what she knew?
Ghost seemed to sense her spiraling. He squeezed her hand. "Stop."
"Stop what?"
"Catastrophizing. I can see you doing it."
"I'm not—"
"You are. You're thinking about everyone who could get hurt.
Every worst-case scenario." He stopped walking and turned to face her, both hands on her shoulders.
"Listen to me. We're going to get these bastards.
All of them. And when we do, everyone you care about will be safe.
But right now, you being safe is what matters. Everything else comes after."
Rachel looked up at him, this man who'd turned his entire life upside down to protect her. Who'd brought her into his sanctuary and made her feel like she belonged there. Who looked at her like she was worth protecting, worth keeping, worth fighting for.
"Okay," she whispered.
"Okay?"
"Okay. I'll stop catastrophizing."
His mouth curved slightly. "Liar."
Despite everything, she almost smiled. "I'll try to stop catastrophizing."
"Better." He kissed her forehead, then took her hand again. "Come on. Let's get back."