"Good. You've been prowling around like a caged tiger." She wraps her hands around her mug, looking out at the water. "I haven't seen the guys today."
"Frost and Flint are running drills on the kill house. Hawk is in the tower."
"Just the three of them?"
"For now." I shift, turning my back to the wind. "We're still recruiting. A standard Guardian team is six operators. ECHO is sitting at four."
Wren tilts her head, studying me. "What exactly makes a Guardian? I mean, I know you guys. But where do you find people who can do what you do?"
I look toward the horizon. "Most of us come from Tier One units. SEALs, Delta, MARSOC, maybe a few SAD guys from the Agency. You need men who have the skills to kick down doorsbut the temperament to wait three days in a hide site without moving."
"And the ability to go off-book?"
"That's the most important part. The military teaches you to follow orders. Guardian HRS requires you to make moral judgment calls in the dark. Not everyone can handle that transition."
"So you need two more."
"Two more. We're vetting candidates. A combat medic out of the Rangers, maybe a demo guy to back up Flint."
"And when you find them? When ECHO is stood up?"
"At first, nothing much changes. We drill. We train until we move like one organism. We run support for the other teams."
"And then?"
"Then CJ gives the nod. Decides we're strong enough to take the field as a unit." I reach out and brush a strand of hair from her cheek. "Then we start taking the cases no one else will touch."
"Sounds dangerous."
"It is."
She watches me for a moment, then: "I got an update today."
"Yeah?"
"Interpol raided the last server farm in Zurich this morning. The encryption keys I pulled gave them everything. Black Helix is gutted."
"Good." A sip of coffee. "It's done."
"Mitzy is still waiting for an answer on the job offer." She turns to face me fully.
"Are you going to take it?"
"I told her I'd think about it. It pays better than freelancing. And the benefits package includes heavy artillery."
"Mitzy doesn't joke about benefits."
"No, she doesn't." Wren's expression turns serious. "She also said my threat assessment is downgraded to zero. I'm free to go back to my life, if I want to."
The wind howls around the eaves. It feels distant. Unimportant.
"Is that what you want?"
"My apartment has a broken door and bad memories." She steps into my space, careful of my healed arm. Her hands settle on my waist. "And my client list is mostly people who think 'password123' is secure."
"Besides." Her voice drops. "I seem to have developed a taste for danger. And for the man who saves me from it."
"I didn't save you. You saved yourself. I just provided support."
