Chapter 5
REED
“Update,” Knox demands over the video call.
“Camera two’s still showing static.” Owen’s voice cuts through the laptop speakers. “You need to check why it’s offline.”
“I’ll adjust it before dark,” I say, already needing to know if it was the storm that knocked the camera loose or if it was intentionally done by whoever has been vandalizing this site.
I scrub a hand over my jaw.
Knox shoulders back into frame. “What’s your read on the threat level?”
“He’s desperate, not trained. But desperate makes people stupid, and stupid makes them dangerous.” I pull up the threat assessment I drafted this morning. “I want someone on standby in case—”
Knox and Owen suddenly go silent, their eyes intensely focused on something behind me.
Before I can ask what shut them up, I see Maya walk through the frame behind me, heading toward the kitchen, earbuds in her ears.
She’s nodding, like she’s listening to music or maybe a voicemail.
She’s wearing my hoodie, unzipped enough to show that she’s not wearing much, if anything, underneath.
She is completely oblivious that I’m on Zoom with Knox and Owen.
Owen arches an eyebrow, and Knox goes still.
“That’s an interesting development, Ambrose.” Knox’s voice is dry as desert sand, but the laughter in his tone is clear.
I slam the mute button, fumbling for my headphones, face burning. By the time I’ve got them in, Maya’s disappeared into the kitchen, oblivious. I unmute with shaking fingers.
“You’re lucky Zane’s not on this call,” Owen teases loudly when I have my headphones on.
“Shut the fuck up.” I keep my voice low.
“Oh, this is too good.” Knox’s laughter is loud enough to make me turn down the volume on my headphones. “Reed Ambrose, shacking up with his gorgeous client during a storm. I owe Zane twenty bucks.”
“There’s nothing—”
“That wasn’t nothing.” Knox cuts through Owen’s laughter. “That was your hoodie on our client. What the hell is she even doing there?”
“She insisted on coming out…and then she,” I pause, knowing it will sound weak. “She insisted on staying. There was rain the first day, and she needed something dry to put on.”
“That was three days ago, Reed. She’s still wearing your clothes?” Knox is enjoying this far too much. “Come on, man. I’ve known you eight years. You don’t let anyone close enough to steal your hoodies.”
My jaw tightens. He’s right.
“I’ve never seen you like this,” Knox continues, mercifully lowering his voice. “Never. She must be something.”
“She’s a client.”
Knox’s tone shifts from teasing to serious. “Be careful, Reed. Remember that she’s our client. Do I need to remind you not to cross any professional boundaries?”
I bristle, but shake my head. This is the kind of conversation he has with Zane, not me or the rest of the team. “Won’t be an issue.”
Knox looks at me for a long moment, then nods. “Good. Call us when you have an update.” He ends the call abruptly, and I pull the feeds back up on my screen.
The kitchen sounds filter through the quiet—cabinet opening, the coffee maker gurgling. I sit with my hands flat on the table, pulse slowly returning to normal.
The guys saw right through me. All these years of working together, and I’ve never let them see me off-balance. Never given them ammunition for this kind of ribbing. Maintaining professional distance has never been an issue for me.
I’ve known Maya less than a week, and my world is upside down. Love at first sight is something that I always thought was a myth, but with the way she makes me feel? I’m wondering if this is what it feels like when your heart finally opens.
“Everything okay with your team?”
I turn. She’s holding two mugs, steam curling between us. Crosses to the table and holds one out to me. I hadn’t even noticed she realized I was on a call.
“Yeah. They were just checking in. I need to look at a couple of the cameras.”
“Tell me about your team.” Maya cradles her mug, watching me over the rim. “How’d you all end up together?”
I settle onto the opposite end of the couch, maintaining a distance that feels increasingly pointless.
“Our boss, Marlon, founded Ghost Security six years ago. He started recruiting guys he trusted from different branches—Marines, Army, Navy. Men who were good at their jobs and who wanted to go into the private sector.”
“And you?”
“Knox and I served together. Kandahar.” The word brings back a flood of memories, even after all these years. The heat. The sand. Not knowing if we’d make it through to nightfall. “Knox called me when Marlon was looking to expand the team, and Knox vouched for me.”
She’s pauses, reading something on my face. “What happened in Kandahar?”
I stare into my coffee. Most people ask out of curiosity that isn’t always polite, harboring a morbid fascination with war stories. Maya asks as if she actually wants to know.
“There was a mission. Intel went bad. We walked into an ambush.” I choose my words carefully, closing my eyes intentionally and breathing deep to calm myself about how we barely avoided carnage.
“I made a split-second call. It worked out for my team, but it didn’t for another team. None of them made it.”
Maya’s eyes widen, and she bows her head. “That’s horrible. What kind of call?”
“That is still classified.” I meet her eyes, suddenly wishing I could share the story of that day with her. “Maybe someday, when we’re old, and the files are declassified, I’ll tell you the whole story.”
When we’re old. The words slip out before I can stop them. Like I’m already planning a future that extends beyond this week.
Maya doesn’t say anything. Just nods slowly, accepting the boundary and not pushing against it like everyone else does. “That’s when you decided to work in the private sector?”
“Yes. That’s when I knew I wanted to go back to civilian life.” I set down my mug. “It’s not pretty. The lengths I’ll go. But I’m honest about it. I never thought I’d work in private security, but I’ve found it suits me a lot better than any normal civilian job. I don’t know what else I’d do.”
“I think that’s what makes you good at it.” She shifts closer, almost imperceptibly. “You don’t hide who you are, and you do what needs to be done.”
The understanding in her voice loosens something in my chest. I’ve never talked about Kandahar with a woman. Never wanted to. But Maya has a way about her that makes me want to tell her everything, including things I’ve never told anyone else. She has a hard shell but a generous, comforting core.
“Your turn.” I angle toward her. “Tell me something you don’t tell people.”
Her fingers tighten on her mug. “You already know about my mother. The marriage pressure, the guilt trips—”
“Something else. Something deeper.”
She’s quiet for a long moment. “I don’t think I want children.
” The words come out slowly. “I’ve never been sure.
Every guy I’ve dated assumed I’d change my mind eventually—like it was a phase, or I hadn’t met the right person yet.
I’ve never felt that urge or the biological clock ticking that most of my friends do.
My mother has names picked out for grandchildren that I’m not sure I’ll ever give her. ”
She laughs, but it’s brittle. “I’ve never said that out loud to anyone.
I haven’t even told my best friend, though Lucy might have her suspicions.
But she’s also married to my brother, and they have no secrets between them.
My mom would find out, and her disappointment is not something I’m ready to face. ”
Her face is filled with vulnerability when she looks at me, like she’s bracing for judgment. She looks like she’s waiting for me to dismiss her certainty about an emotional and deeply personal decision.
Instead, something unlocks in my chest, and an emotion I’ve never put words to is suddenly clear. “I’ve never been sure either.”
Her eyes snap to mine, and I can sense she’s not sure whether she can believe me.
“About kids,” I clarify. “Everyone assumes that’s the path.
Marriage, children, white picket fence. I’ve avoided relationships partly because of my father, but also because.
..” I trail off, searching for honest words.
“Because I didn’t want to disappoint someone who wanted that life.
It’s been easier to stay alone than to admit I might not want what I’m supposed to want. ”
I’ve never admitted that part of my isolation isn’t just fear of becoming my father.
The relief that floods her face takes my breath away. There is a recognition in her eyes that cuts deep inside me, and my heart beats faster and expands in a way I’ve never experienced.
“Reed.” My name is barely a whisper on her lips.
I don’t plan what happens next. One moment I’m watching that relief transform her expression, and the next I’m standing in front of her, my hands cupping her jaw and tilting her face up.
I kiss her.
But the moment she opens her mouth to mine, something breaks loose. All the years of holding back fall away as she moans softly into my mouth. The urge to give all of myself to Maya overwhelms me and excites me, the sensations crashing through my life like a dam bursting.
The lusty sound she makes has my cock standing at attention and aching to be free. My hands find the hem of the hoodie and slide underneath. She gasps into my mouth when my thumbs brush the underside of her breasts through the lace of her bra.
I pull back just enough to look at her—flushed, lips swollen, eyes dark with want. The lace of her bra visible through the gap in the hoodie. My hoodie.
My woman.