Exposed wooden beams crossed the high ceiling. Terracotta tile was warm under her feet, probably from the sun beating down on it all day. A sunken living room stretched ahead with white couches and a stone fireplace that looked hand-built. Bookshelves lined every wall, actual books, not just decoration. Late afternoon light poured through the windows, falling in long gold stripes across a black grand piano near the far wall.
And beyond that, glass. Floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over the bay. The water was calm, almost silver in the fading light. San Diego sat in the distance across the water, hazy and quiet. A private dock extended into the bay below, a small boat tied at the end.
Rachel stopped just inside the door. This wasn't what she'd expected. It felt like a place someone actually lived, not just a crash pad between deployments.
Ghost stepped in behind her, his arms coming around her waist. His chest pressed against her back, solid and radiating heat. His voice was quiet near her ear. "You're safe here."
She leaned back against him, her head resting on his shoulder. The tension she'd been carrying in her spine started to ease.
"My apartment on base is traceable," he said quietly. "Tied to the Navy. Tied to command. Tied to too much." He pressed a kiss tothe back of her neck, lingering there. "But this? This is off-book. No paper trail. No vulnerabilities."
Another kiss, lower on her neck. Rachel's eyes closed.
"It's beautiful," she said quietly, her fingers lacing with his where they rested against her stomach.
"Don't use it much. Didn't have a reason to. Until now."
Before she could respond, the front door banged open and boots thudded across the threshold.
"Jesus Christ, can you two get a room?" Torch muttered, dropping a duffel by the door with a heavy thunk.
Echo followed, grinning wide. "They're already in his house. Technically every room is their room."
Ghost unwrapped his arms from Rachel and turned, his expression flat. "Lucky I need you idiots right now."
He crossed toward them. "You two better be more useful setting up gear than running your mouths."
Torch's grin widened. "I am setting up. Establishing dominance over my environment."
Echo snorted. "And yet Ghost still scares the piss out of you."
Torch opened his mouth, reconsidered, and grabbed his gear instead.
Rachel shook her head, fighting a smile as the energy in the room shifted. The team moved through the space like they'd done this before, laptops opened on the coffee table, weapons laid out and field-stripped with practiced efficiency, security feeds flickering to life on a monitor mounted above the fireplace.
Then the rest arrived.
Rachel heard them before she saw them, truck doors slamming outside, boots on gravel, low voices carrying through the open door. They came in one after another, different builds and faces but moving with the same controlled economy of motion.
Reaper came in first, that scar bisecting his left eyebrow catching the light. He tossed a set of keys Ghost's way. "Truck's out front. Right where you left it."
Ghost caught them midair, frowning. "How the hell—"
"I texted Reaper," Echo called from the couch, already logged into something on his laptop. "Figured you'd want it."
Reaper shrugged. "Brick and I swung by your girl's place. Still quiet, but not for long. We grabbed your ride and got out clean."
Brick came in behind him, easily six-four and built like he bench-pressed cars for fun. He dropped his gear beside the couch with a grunt. "You're welcome."
Ghost pocketed the keys without responding.
Reaper smirked. "You weren't worried about the truck."
Rachel felt her mouth curve slightly. "Given the circumstances, I appreciated where his focus was."
Reaper raised both hands, still grinning. "No argument here. Just didn't expect to see our fearless leader this wound up over a woman. It's good for him."
Torch laughed, cracking open a water he pulled from Ghost’s fridge. "He's been strung tight since he got Rachel's voicemail."
