She's not pretending this is just about protection or duty. She's acknowledging what's building between us, even if neither of us is ready to name it yet.
"What was the email?" she asks, standing and moving closer.
"Intelligence briefing. Similar incidents at JEB Tidewater. Marine biologist dealing with escalating harassment and equipment sabotage." The parallels are too close to ignore. "Timeline matches yours. Could be coincidence, but I don't like coincidences."
Her brow furrows. "You think they're connected?"
"Don't know yet. But the pattern's there. Both targeting women in contractor roles supporting military operations. Both escalating the same way." I reach out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear before I can stop myself. The touch is brief but electric, her skin warm under my fingertips. "Something to look into once we have your situation locked down."
"One stalker at a time?" Her attempt at humor falls flat, exhaustion creeping back into her voice.
"Something like that." I don't pull my hand away. "You should get some rest. Tomorrow's going to be intense when they bring Hutchins in for questioning."
She doesn't step back. "What if it's not him? What if we're wrong and the real threat is still out there?"
"Then we keep looking until we find them. But my instincts say Hutchins is our guy. Right access, right skills, right motivation. He's been resentful of your presence since day one."
"I trust that." She studies my face. "You've been thorough. Duke alerting to that device before I could start the truck. That's what kept me alive tonight."
"It's my job to be thorough." The memory of that IED wired to her ignition brings the rage back, sharp and immediate. "And keeping you safe isn't just an assignment. Not anymore."
"What happened to Ryan wasn't your fault." Andi steps closer, closing the careful distance I've been maintaining. "Ajax missed the alert. Ryan moved before you could stop him. The IED exploded. You know that's not on you, right?"
"Knowing and believing are different things." She's close enough now that I could pull her against me and let physical connection silence all the noise in my head.
"Then let me believe it for both of us." Her hand comes up to rest against my chest, right over my heart. "Until you can believe it yourself."
The heat of her palm through my shirt, the way she's looking at me with understanding and want in equal measure, the fact that she's offering comfort when she's the one who nearly died tonight. All of it combines into something I can't resist anymore.
I'm leaning in, my hand coming up to cup her face, closing the distance between us when my phone buzzes again. The interruption is perfectly timed and completely unwelcome. Base security. Could be important. Could be the break we need.
I answer while looking at Andi, hating the necessity but knowing duty doesn't care about inconvenient timing. The security chief briefs me on developments. Pattern analysis of security footage has narrowed the suspect list. Brad Hutchins' movements correlate with every incident location and timestamp. He had opportunity and access.
Not enough for an arrest. Not yet. But enough to bring him in. Enough to put surveillance on him. Enough to know we're looking at the right person.
I end the call and relay the information. Andi's face shifts, relief warring with renewed worry. We're close to ending this, but close isn't caught. Hutchins is still out there until he's in custody.
"Come on." I gesture down the hallway. "You need sleep. Tomorrow starts early."
She follows me back to the guest room, Duke trailing behind us like a furry chaperone making sure we both get where we're supposed to be. Professional boundaries. Safe distance. All thethings that felt important before tonight showed me how easily she could have been taken away.
At her door, I lean against the frame. "Bathroom's across the hall if you need anything. I'll be down the hall. Duke will alert if anyone comes near the house."
"Devlin." She turns to face me fully, exhaustion and something deeper visible in her expression. "Thank you. For all of this. For keeping me safe. For letting me into your space. For being honest tonight."
"You're safe here. I promise." The words come out rougher than intended, weighted with everything I'm feeling and can't quite say.
Her expression shifts, vulnerable and honest. "I know." She takes a breath. "That's the problem. I could get used to this."
She's not the only one. Having her here feels right. Natural. And that's dangerous territory I've spent most of my life avoiding.
I want to say something profound, want to acknowledge what she just admitted. But words fail me in the face of her honesty, so I just nod.
"Goodnight, Andi."
"Goodnight."
She closes the door, and I stand there in the hallway trying to process everything that happened tonight. Duke sits beside me, leaning his solid weight against my leg, completely unconcerned with human complications. To Duke, it's simple. Andi is pack. Pack protects each other. Pack stays together.
