His response finally came through.The Navy gave me purpose. Structure.
She read it twice. Short. Controlled. The kind of answer designed to give information without actually revealing anything.
Claire dug some more.What was your favorite mission?
The three dots took longer this time. She imagined him lying in bed somewhere in this compound, choosing his words carefully.
Can’t talk about most of them. Classified.
Fair enough. Still, there had to besomethinghe could share.
Why did you get out?
Another long pause. The three dots appeared and disappeared three times before his response came through.
Went off mission. Command didn’t appreciate it.
Claire sat up straighter in bed. That wasn’t the standard ‘medical discharge’ or ‘completed my service’ answer. That was an admission of something. Someone who’d broken rules, crossed lines. Done something his superiors couldn’t officially sanction.
Her profiler brain kicked into gear. Wolf had gone off-mission—unauthorized action. Gotten caught or suspected, and discharged for it, hadn’t he?
But he was here now, running security for Shadow Point, a company that operated in the gray areas law enforcement couldn’t reach.
What kind of mission? she typed.
No dots this time.
She waited a full minute. Nothing.
I know you didn’t fall asleep,Wolf. If you can’t talk about it, that’s okay. What can you talk about?
Still, he didn’t answer.
Not directly anyway. In some ways, it confirmed exactly what she thought.
Fine. Texts were impersonal and too easy to misinterpret. And he probably didn’t trust anyone enough to say more on an app.
Claire looked at her phone, then at her door, then back at her phone.
This was stupid. She should try to sleep. Morning would come early, and she had profiling work to do with Dr. Montgomery.
But she was wide awake now, and more curious about Wolf than she had any right to be.
Before she could second-guess herself, she typed:Any chance there’s tea in this fancy compound of yours?
She hit send and immediately regretted it. Was she too forward? Too...something.
The three dots appeared almost instantly.
Cafeteria. Give me two minutes.I’ll come get you.
Claire exhaled. Okay then.
She got out of bed, traded her pajamas for yoga pants, and put on her FBI Academy sweatshirt. Ran her fingers through her hair—loose around her shoulders instead of pulled back in its usual professional style. Then, she grabbed her phone and headed for the door.
Her hand hesitated on the handle. Was this smart? Trying to force friendship with a man she barely knew in the middle of the night?
Except he wasn’t just any man. He was her protection detail, and something about him made her feel...
