Logan
Langley AFB
Lila Mercer.
What the actual fuck?
Is it possible it’s just an awful coincidence?
“Viking.” Ryan’s voice cuts through the fog of disbelief, sharp and pointed. I tear my gaze away from Lila, forcing myself to focus on him. “Excuse us.” He nods to Lila, pulling me aside.
I go without protest, my mind still reeling.
Mercer?
Ryan doesn’t say anything until we’re a few paces out of earshot, his voice dropping low. “Tell me that’s not who I think it is.”
I exhale sharply, shaking my head. “It’s her.”
“Shit.” Ryan drags a hand over his jaw, glancing back toward where Lila stands. “And Lila Mercer. As in—”
“I know,” I cut in, jaw tightening. “I fucking know.”
Lieutenant General Mercer’s daughter.
But it’s not just the general I’m worried about.
The weight of it all settles deep in my chest, heavier than it should be.
Ryan whistles under his breath, shaking his head. “That’s insane. Of all the people…”
Ryan studies me for a beat, his gaze too damn perceptive because he knows me too damn well. He can probably see the tension running through me, hear the thoughts I don’t say aloud.
The guilt I don’t let surface.
He knows. He wasn’t there. But he knows.
Ryan exhales. “You ever think you’d see her again?”
I grab the back of my neck with my hand before raking my fingers through my hair. “Never.”
I wish I could go back to Vegas because back then, she was just Lila.
Just a girl who looked at me like I was worth something more than the uniform I wore, more than the orders I’ve followed, and more than the regrets I carry.
A girl with mesmerizing green eyes and a laugh that wrapped around me like gravity.
A girl I shouldn’t have touched.
I roll my shoulders, shaking off the weight pressing into my ribs. “It was one night.”
Ryan gives me a look. One that says bullshit.
And he’s right. Because it was never just one night.
“She remembers you,” he mutters, still watching me.
I don’t respond.
I saw it the second she locked eyes with me. The recognition. The memory. The panic.
Ryan sighs. “So what now?”
I glance back at her, her silhouette dark against the sun gleaming off my Raptor.
I don’t know what the hell happens now.
But I know one thing for damn sure.
Ignoring Lila Mercer is not going to be an option.
“I do my job—,” I tell him before taking long strides to get back to her. I glance back at Ryan once more, nodding like I’m trying to tell him it’s all fine even though I’m really not sure it is. “I’ll show you where you’ll be working first so you can put your stuff down.”
She turns quickly, her long hair whipping around and landing in a mass over one of her shoulders. She smiles at me and I know I’m fucked. I can’t seriously be a cliche, the general’s daughter?
And then there’s Reaper.
We walk in silence for a few minutes before I push open the door to the office space she’ll be working out of, stepping aside so she can walk in first. The overhead fluorescents flicker on, casting a too-bright glow over the room. Standard government issue.
“Not exactly five-star accommodations,” I say, watching as she takes it in.
It’s a decent-sized space, considering. Bigger than most of the offices shoved into this wing of the hangar.
A single window sits high on the far wall, letting in more light than I expected, but it still has that sterile, impersonal feel—white walls, concrete floors.
Large wooden built-ins dominate one entire wall, stacked with old binders left by whoever last used this office.
Lila walks in slowly, her fingertips grazing the edge of the shelves as she moves.
She stops in front of a massive L-shaped desk.
I can tell she hates it by the way her eyes narrow as they track the cherry colored wood that’s probably coated in a layer of dust. She’s assessing, already mentally arranging things, probably figuring out how to make it hers.
I lean a shoulder against the doorframe. “I’m sure we can get you some furniture or maybe you have some? But this space is all yours. Wi-Fi’s spotty sometimes, and the AC has a mind of its own, but you get used to it.”
She turns, her green eyes flicking to mine, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Sounds like you’re trying to sell me on it.”
I huff a laugh. “Just setting expectations.”
She glances around again, a wistful look in her eyes. She looks back at the shelves and smiles. “Honestly?” She glances at me again, and this time there’s something softer in her voice. “It’s perfect.”
I don’t know what I expected her to say, but that wasn’t it.
I study her for a beat. “You sure about that?”
She nods, more to herself than to me. “Yeah.” Her fingers skim over one of the binders absently. “This job feels right.”
I watch her for a second longer before nodding. I don’t know why, but I believe her.