Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
BOONE
She's late.
A hair dryer. During an active protection detail.
I knock again. Harder.
"I heard you the first time." Her voice carries through the wood, muffled but amused. "Patience is a virtue, Mr. Garrett."
"Punctuality is a protocol."
The hair dryer cuts off. Footsteps approach. The door swings open, and whatever lecture I had prepared dies in my throat.
She's changed out of her travel clothes into a soft green sweater that makes her hazel eyes look almost gold.
Her auburn curls are loose around her shoulders, still slightly damp at the ends, and she's put on just enough makeup to make her freckles stand out rather than disappear.
Dark jeans hug her curves, and she's barefoot, toenails painted a deep red.
"You're not wearing shoes."
She glances down at her feet, then back up at me with a smile that says she knows exactly what effect she's having. "Astute observation. Give me thirty seconds."
She disappears back into the cabin, leaving the door open. An invitation, or a test. With Mara, I'm starting to think everything is both.
I step inside, scanning the space automatically. Her laptop is open on the kitchen counter, screen dark but indicator light blinking. A notebook beside it, filled with equations I couldn't begin to understand. Her suitcase is open in the corner, clothes spilling out in organized chaos.
She emerges from the bedroom area pulling on ankle boots, hopping slightly to keep her balance. "Okay, I'm ready. Lead the way to this family dinner situation."
"It's not a situation. It's dinner."
"With a group of highly trained military operatives who are simultaneously assessing whether I'm a threat, a liability, or just generally annoying." She grabs a jacket from the back of the couch. "That's a situation."
I hold the door for her, waiting until she's through before pulling it closed and checking the lock. Twice.
"They're not assessing you."
"Please." She falls into step beside me, her shorter legs working double time to match my stride. I slow down without thinking about it. "I run a company with three hundred employees. I know what it looks like when people are sizing someone up."
"They're curious. It's different."
"Curious about what? The difficult client who drove herself through the mountains without security? The woman who made Deck's best tactical planner intercept her on a back road?"
I stop walking. She takes two more steps before realizing and turning back.
"How do you know I'm Deck's best?"
Her smile is quick and sharp. "You told me yourself. Back in the lodge. 'I'm the best tactical planner we have.' Direct quote."
Right. I did say that.
"And," she continues, "I may have done some additional research on the drive up. Guardian Peak Security has an excellent reputation in certain circles. Your threat assessments are considered some of the most thorough in the private sector."
"You researched us while driving through mountain terrain at excessive speed."
"Voice to text is a wonderful thing." She starts walking again, and I have to catch up. "Also, for the record, I wasn't speeding. I was maintaining an appropriate velocity for the road conditions."
"You were doing sixty two in a forty five zone."
She glances over her shoulder. "Were you tracking my vehicle before you intercepted me?"
"Standard protocol for high value client extraction."
"High value client." Her laugh is low and warm in the cold evening air. "That's the nicest thing anyone's called me all week."
The lodge comes into view, warm light spilling from the windows.
Through the glass, I can see the team gathering.
Wolfe and Sadie are already there, Sadie's bright chatter visible even from this distance.
Cade and Natalie are in the kitchen, and I can smell the shepherd's pie from here.
Deck and Vivian are by the fireplace, his hand resting on her belly in that unconscious way expectant fathers develop.
This is my family. The people I'd die for. The people I've built a life around after the Marines took everything else.
And I'm about to introduce them to a woman who's been in my head for three weeks straight.
"They're going to love you," I say, before I can stop myself.
Mara's steps slow. "What?"
"The team. They're..." I search for the right word. "Good people. They'll make you feel welcome."
She's quiet for a moment, studying my face in the fading light. "That almost sounded like you were trying to reassure me."
"I was stating a fact."
"Mmhm." But her smile softens, loses some of its sharp edges. "Thank you. For the fact."
I open the lodge door, and the warmth and noise of family dinner rushes out to meet us.
Dinner is chaos.
Good chaos, the kind I've learned to tolerate over the past two and a half years, but chaos nonetheless.
Sadie is telling a story about a hiking disaster that has Natalie in tears from laughing.
Wolfe sits beside her, silent as always, but his hand rests on her thigh under the table and there's a softness in his gray eyes when he looks at her.
Cade's shepherd's pie is excellent, as expected.
He's explaining the recipe to Mara, who seems genuinely interested in the ratio of herbs to meat.
Natalie interjects occasionally with suggestions for her own version, and somehow they've ended up planning a cooking collaboration that involves Mara's Silicon Valley connections and Natalie's publisher contacts.
I don't understand how this happened. I don't understand how any of this happened.
"You're staring."
Deck's voice is low enough that only I can hear. He's settled into the chair beside me, plate balanced on his knee, watching the same scene I am.
"I'm observing."
"You're staring at her like she's a tactical map you can't quite read."
I tear my gaze away from Mara, who's now demonstrating something on her phone to Sadie while Cade looks on with the patient confusion of a man who doesn't understand technology beyond basic functionality.
"She's unpredictable."
"Most interesting people are."
"Interesting isn't the same as safe."
Deck takes a bite of his dinner, chewing slowly before responding.
"When Vivian first got here, I thought the same thing.
She was a federal prosecutor who'd witnessed a mob hit.
Testified against Dominic Castellano. Had assassins after her.
" He glances toward his wife, who's laughing at something Natalie said.
"I thought keeping her safe meant keeping her contained. "
"And?"
"And she ran eleven miles through hostile terrain to get help when I got captured." His voice carries something I rarely hear from him. Pride, mixed with awe. "She saved my life by refusing to stay where I put her."
I know the story. We all do. It's become legend at Guardian Peak, the night Vivian Cross proved that protection goes both ways.
"Mara's not Vivian."
"No. She's not." Deck finishes his plate, sets it aside. "But she's not just a package to be managed either. Richard asked us to keep her alive. He didn't ask us to break her spirit doing it."
Before I can respond, Mara appears in front of us, two glasses of whiskey in hand. She offers one to me.
"Sadie said this is the good stuff. Apparently Wolfe makes it himself?" She settles into the chair on my other side, curling her legs underneath her. "Please tell me that's not a euphemism for something illegal."
"It's legal." I take the glass, our fingers brushing during the transfer. Her skin is warm. "Wolfe has a still on his property. He's been perfecting the recipe for two years."
"A Navy SEAL sniper who makes moonshine in the mountains." She shakes her head, but she's smiling. "This place is insane. You know that, right?"
"I know it's home."
The word slips out before I can stop it. Mara's eyes find mine over the rim of her glass.
"Home," she repeats softly. "How long have you lived here?"
"Since the beginning. Almost three years."
"And before that?"
"Eighteen years in the Marines. Force Recon." I take a sip of the whiskey, letting the burn ground me. "After that ended, I needed somewhere to disappear."
"Why'd it end?"
The question is casual, but her eyes are sharp. Focused. She's not making small talk. She's gathering intelligence.
Fair enough. I've been doing the same to her for three weeks.
"A mission went wrong." I keep my voice level, the way I've learned to do when discussing the worst moment of my life. "Unpredictable element. Civilian interference at the worst possible moment. I lost three men."
Mara is quiet for a long moment. No platitudes. No sorry for your loss. Just silence, and those hazel eyes studying my face.
"You blame yourself."
"I was the tactical planner. It was my job to account for every variable."
"And you didn't account for a civilian?"
"I accounted for seventeen different civilian scenarios. I didn't account for the specific civilian who decided to photograph our position and post it to social media for likes."
Her breath catches. "That's how they found you."
"That's how they found us." I drain the rest of my whiskey. "Three good men dead because someone wanted internet fame."
The fire crackles. Across the room, Sadie laughs at something Wolfe says, rare and quiet. Cade is washing dishes, Natalie drying beside him, their shoulders bumping in the easy rhythm of a couple who's found their balance.
"Is that why you're so obsessed with control?" Mara asks.
"I'm not obsessed with control."
"Boone." Her voice is gentle but firm. "You have the entire mountain range mapped within a thirty mile radius.
You've timed your response time to my cabin under seven different weather conditions.
You intercepted me on a road because I deviated from your expected arrival window by three hours.
" She sets her empty glass aside. "That's not standard protocol. That's obsession."
"Control keeps people alive."
"Does it?" She leans forward, elbows on her knees. "Or does it just give you the illusion that you can prevent the unpreventable?"
"There's no such thing as unpreventable. Only poorly planned."
"Three PhDs in mathematics and physics," she says. "You know what I've learned about the universe? Chaos is the only constant. You can plan for every variable, account for every contingency, and still get blindsided by something you never saw coming."
"That's a depressing philosophy for someone who builds encryption systems."
"It's not depressing. It's liberating." Her eyes hold mine, bright and certain. "Once you accept that you can't control everything, you're free to focus on what actually matters."
"And what matters to you?"
Around us, the dinner party continues, but it feels distant. Muffled. Like we've stepped into a pocket of time that belongs only to us.
"Right now?" Her voice drops, and she's close enough that I can smell her shampoo. Something floral and warm. "Figuring out why you look at me like I'm either your greatest asset or your worst nightmare."
"Maybe you're both."
The words come out rougher than I intended. Her lips part slightly. Her pulse beats visibly in her throat.
I want to kiss her.
The realization slams through me with the force of a mortar round.
I want to take her face in my hands and find out if her mouth is as soft as it looks.
I want to swallow that sharp tongue and see if she tastes as good as she smells.
I want to pull her into my lap and show her exactly what happens when the tactical planner loses control.
"Boone." My name is a breath on her lips. Her eyes drop to my mouth.
"Mara."
She leans closer. I don't pull back.
"Hey, Boone!" Sadie's voice cuts through the moment like a gunshot. "Wolfe wants to know if you're doing the dawn patrol tomorrow or if he should swap with Ryder."
I jerk back. Mara does the same, her cheeks flushing pink beneath her freckles.
"Dawn patrol," I manage, my voice sounding strange in my own ears. "Tell Wolfe I've got it."
Sadie gives us a look that says she knows exactly what she interrupted, but she just nods and returns to her conversation with Wolfe.
Mara stands abruptly, smoothing her sweater. "I should... it's been a long day. I should get back to the cabin."
"I'll walk you."
"You don't have to—"
"I'll walk you." I stand, my body close to hers by necessity of the cramped seating arrangement. "It's protocol."
Her laugh is shaky. "Right. Protocol."
We make our excuses to the group. Vivian gives Mara a hug that surprises both of them, and Natalie promises to send her the recipe for her herb bread. Deck nods at me, his expression carefully neutral, but I can see the question in his eyes.
Later. I'll deal with that later.
The walk back to Mara's cabin is silent. The night is cold and clear, stars scattered across the sky in a display that never gets old. Our breath fogs in the air, mingling briefly before disappearing.
At her door, she pauses with her hand on the frame.
"Boone."
"Yeah."
"What just happened in there." She's not looking at me, her eyes fixed on the doorknob. "That can't happen again."
"I know."
"You're my bodyguard. I'm your client. My father is your friend. There are about seventeen different reasons why whatever almost happened is a terrible idea."
"I know."
She finally looks at me, and the want in her eyes makes my hands clench at my sides.
"So we agree," she says. "Professional distance. Clear boundaries. No more..."
"No more."
She nods. Opens her door. Steps inside.
Then she turns back, and her voice is barely audible. "For what it's worth? You're not just an asset or a nightmare to me either."
The door closes.
I stand on her porch for a full minute, listening to the locks engage, before I walk back to my own cabin and spend the next four hours staring at the ceiling and trying to forget the way she looked at my mouth.
Professional distance.
Clear boundaries.
No more.
I give it two days before we break every single one of those rules.