"She reported it immediately," Cain continues. "Proper channels, documented everything. We increased security patrols in the area, reviewed camera footage, but didn't find anything conclusive. Then last night, someone broke into her residence. Nothing taken, but items were moved. She could tell someone had been in her home."
Harassing her at work is bad enough, but going to her home crosses every line.
"This morning," Nelson says, swiping to another photo, "she found this on her truck."
The image shows a magazine placed deliberately on the hood of her vehicle. The staging is clear, intentional, meant to send a message. The threat isn't subtle anymore.
Cold focus settles over me, the kind I learned to channel in combat. Whoever is doing this knows her schedule, knows where she lives, knows enough about her work to make the harassment personal. This isn't random. This is targeted.
"I want you as her protection detail," Cain says, her gaze steady on mine. "You're one of the most observant people on this base, you have Duke, and I trust you to take this seriously. Your job is to shadow Andi, keep her safe, and help security identify whoever is behind this."
"Rules of engagement?" I ask, because that matters. How much authority I have, what I can and can't do, whether I'm just watching or actively investigating.
"You're authorized to accompany her anywhere on or off base," Nelson answers. "We're coordinating with Pine Valley PD for supplemental off-base protection, but they're stretched pretty thin right now. Given that most of her time is spent here, you're primary. If you identify a threat, you have full authority to neutralize it. We're treating this as a credible danger to base personnel."
Cain leans forward, her expression serious. "I know this isn't your usual assignment, Porter. But I need someone I can trust to keep Andi safe while we figure out who's behind this. Someone who won't let anything slip through the cracks."
The guy who brings everyone home. That's what they call me, the reputation I've built over years of making sure my teams complete their missions and return intact. The reputationthat weighs heavier every day because Ryan didn't come home. Because Ajax missed the alert, because I wasn't fast enough to see the threat first, because I let Ryan advance before I had full situational control.
"I'll keep her safe," I say, and mean it with every part of me that's been trained to protect and defend. "What do we know about potential suspects?"
Nelson pulls up another screen. "Working theory is someone with base access who objects to women in military roles, specifically civilian contractors in traditionally male positions. Miss O'Rourke has been outspoken about safety protocols, has corrected senior personnel on proper procedures, and her work directly impacts flight operations. That doesn't make her popular with certain old guard elements."
"How many people fit that profile?" I already know the answer will be too many.
"Several dozen, unfortunately. We're narrowing it down based on who had access to the areas where incidents occurred, but so far no smoking gun. The magazine was placed overnight, after her cottage area was clear. Whoever did it knows how to move without being seen."
Which means either someone with training or someone intimately familiar with security patterns. Neither option makes me feel better about Andi's safety.
"When do I start?"
"Immediately." Cain slides a folder across her desk. "Her schedule, office location, usual routines. She's been notified of the assignment and is meeting with base security right now to provide an additional statement about this morning's incident. You'll intercept her when she's done, introduce yourself properly, and stick close from there on out."
I take the folder, already mentally organizing how to handle this. Duke will help, his presence an obvious deterrent toanyone thinking about approaching. But the real challenge will be balancing protection with Andi's independence. She's competent, proud of what she's built here, and is probably not going to be thrilled about having a bodyguard shadowing her every move.
"One more thing," Cain says as I stand to leave. "Andi is important to this base. Her work saves lives, and she deserves to feel safe doing it. I'm counting on you to make sure she can."
"Understood."
Nelson walks out with me, continuing to brief me on security protocols and communication channels as we head back toward the main corridor. Duke stays at my heel, ears forward, picking up on the tension I'm trying to keep controlled. By the time Nelson finishes and heads back to his office, I'm standing outside the security wing where Andi is apparently giving her statement.
I flip open the folder Cain gave me, scanning details I mostly already know. Her office is in the operations building. She starts her days early with field surveys. She works at her mother's diner most evenings. She lives alone in a rental cottage on the edge of Pine Valley.
There's a photo clipped to the inside cover, probably from her contract badge. Auburn hair pulled back, green eyes bright even in the sterile ID picture, expression professional but with a hint of warmth around the edges. She's beautiful in that picture, but it doesn't capture the way she moves through the wetlands like she belongs there, or how she must sound when she's explaining bird behavior to airfield crews who probably couldn't care less.
Duke whines softly, a questioning sound that pulls my attention down to where he's watching me with those too-intelligent eyes.
"I know," I mutter, closing the folder. "This is a job. Professional distance. We protect her, we find whoever is doing this, we stay detached."
Duke's tail wags once, slow and deliberate, like he's humoring me.
"I'm serious. This isn't about attraction or wanting to know if her laugh sounds the same up close as it does from across the airfield. This is about keeping her safe."
Another tail wag, this one slightly more enthusiastic.
"Stop looking at me like that."
The door to the security wing opens, and Andi walks out with Captain Nelson. She looks tired, frustration evident in the tight set of her shoulders and the way her hands grip the strap of her field bag. When she sees me standing there, recognition flickers across her features. Not because we've met, but because she's noticed me too. Morning runs, training yards, those brief moments when our paths crossed and we both pretended not to be looking.
