"Miss O'Rourke," Nelson says, "this is Master Sergeant Devlin Porter. He'll be your protection detail until we resolve this situation."
She meets my gaze directly, and I'm struck again by how green her eyes are, how much determination shows through the exhaustion. "Master Sergeant."
"Ma'am." I keep my voice professional, controlled, giving nothing away. "This is Duke. He'll be assisting with your security."
At his name, Duke's attention locks onto Andi with sudden intense focus. His ears perk forward, his posture shifts from relaxed to alert, and he makes a soft sound that's almost curious. Like he recognizes something important, something that matters.
Andi's expression softens as she looks at Duke, and when she extends her hand for him to sniff, my dog does something he never does with strangers. He leans into her touch, tail wagging, body language completely open and trusting.
My heart sinks.
Because Duke is never wrong about people. If he's claiming her as pack this fast, that means something. Means she's important in ways I can't afford for her to be.
Easy, boy. This is just a job.
Duke leans harder into Andi's touch, and she laughs—soft, genuine, the sound I've only heard from a distance until now.
Professional distance. Right. I am so fucked.
3
ANDI
Master Sergeant Devlin Porter stands outside the security wing with a Belgian Malinois at his side, and my first thought is that he's even more imposing up close. Broad shoulders fill out his uniform in a way that suggests years of training, and those hazel eyes assess me with the focus of someone who misses nothing.
I've been noticing him for months. Morning runs where I couldn't help watching the way his body moved, all controlled power and effortless strength. Training sessions where his voice carried across the yard, calm and commanding. Brief moments when our paths crossed and we both pretended not to look. But we were looking, and now he's standing here close enough that I can see the gold flecks in those hazel eyes, and my pulse kicks up in a way that has nothing to do with the threats against me.
"Miss O'Rourke," Captain Nelson says, "this is Master Sergeant Devlin Porter. He'll be your protection detail until we resolve this situation."
Protection detail. Like I'm some dignitary who needs a bodyguard. Like six months of proving my competence doesn't matter because some asshole thinks he can scare me away.
"Master Sergeant." I keep my voice professional.
"Ma'am." His voice is deeper than I expected, steady and calm. "This is Duke. He'll be assisting with your security."
The dog's attention locks onto me with sudden intensity, and when I extend my hand for him to sniff, he does something that surprises me. He leans into my touch, tail wagging, body language completely relaxed and trusting. I've worked around military working dogs before, and they're usually more reserved with strangers. But Duke acts like he's known me for years, pressing his head against my leg and looking up at me with intelligent eyes that seem to say he approves.
"He's beautiful," I say, scratching behind his ears. Duke makes a sound that's almost a groan of pleasure, and I can't help but smile.
"He doesn't usually warm up to people that fast," Devlin says. "Looks like you've been claimed."
Captain Nelson clears his throat. "Master Sergeant Porter will accompany you during your daily routines, both on and off base. We're coordinating with Pine Valley PD for supplemental coverage, but they're stretched thin. For now, consider him your shadow."
Shadow. I don't need a shadow.
"With all due respect, I don't need a babysitter."
"No one is suggesting you can't handle yourself," Devlin says. "But someone is targeting you specifically, and they're escalating. My job is to make sure they don't get close enough to follow through. That's not about your competence. And your work is too important to let some asshole with a grudge sabotage it. What you do saves lives."
He's right, even if I hate admitting it. The magazine crossed a line from harassment to real danger.
"How long?" I ask, already knowing I won't like the answer.
"Until we identify and neutralize the threat," Nelson says. "Could be days, could be longer. But Lieutenant Colonel Cainwants you safe, and Master Sergeant Porter is one of the best we have."
I want to argue more, to insist I can take care of myself the way I've been doing for years. But the truth is, I'm exhausted. The constant vigilance, the way every sound in my cottage last night made me jump, the realization that someone has been in my home and my workspace without me knowing. Maybe having someone watching my back isn't the worst thing in the world, even if that someone is the man I've been trying not to notice for months.
"Fine," I say. "But I have work to do."
