I don’t doubt it. But humor me this once.
She should argue. She should insist on her independence. Instead, she found herself typing:Just this once. Thank you, Bullet.
Get some rest, Morgan.
Four simple words, yet the warmth they spread through her chest was anything but simple. Morgan set her phone down and turned back to her laptop, the mountain of work suddenly seeming a little less daunting.
Tonight she’d finish Richard’s impossible demands. Tomorrow, she’d get new locks. And maybe—just maybe—she’d learn a little more about the man behind the helmet who called himself Bullet.
4
Bullet
Archer stared at the holographic display projected above his desk, the quarterly security contracts scrolling past unseeing eyes. His mind kept drifting to a different security matter entirely—one involving amber eyes and an apartment with inadequate locks.
"...which brings the total contract value to seventeen point three million,” his CFO, Marcus, concluded. “Archer? Your thoughts?”
He blinked, forcing himself back to the task at hand. The executive boardroom of Sullivan Security Solutions fell silent, eight pairs of eyes trained on him expectantly. He’d missed something. Unacceptable.
“Run the Hong Kong numbers again,” he said, buying time. “The licensing fees seem off based on our new trade agreement.”
Marcus frowned but nodded, tapping his tablet to pull up the data. It gave Archer the moments he needed to refocus. This meeting represented millions in potential revenue. He couldn’t afford distractions—especially not the kind with sharp eyes and a purse big enough to be considered a threat.
His personal phone vibrated against his thigh. He ignored it, but his mind immediately went to Morgan. Had she texted again? Was she having second thoughts about the locksmith he’d arranged to arrive at noon?
“The Hong Kong figures are accurate,” Marcus said, highlighting a section of the projection. “We renegotiated the terms last quarter, if you recall.”
Of course he recalled. Archer had personally flown to Hong Kong to secure those terms. Sleep-deprived and running on caffeine, he’d outmaneuvered their legal team and secured favorable rates for the next five years. Details like that didn’t slip his mind.
Until today, apparently.
“Right,” he said smoothly. “Just double-checking our position. Proceed with implementation.”
The meeting continued, but part of Archer remained detached, cataloging details with mechanical precision while a more vital piece of himself wondered about a woman who’d reached out to a stranger for help.
When they finally concluded, Archer retreated to his private office—a vast yet minimalist space of glass and steel with views of the city sprawling in every direction. The first thing he did was check the notifications on his private cell.
Locksmith’s name? Should I expect someone specific?
Morgan, as he’d suspected. Practical, covering all bases.
He typed back:Kane Maxwell. Retired military. Trustworthy.
What he didn’t add was that Kane was more than a locksmith. The man was a titan of the industry himself, savvy investor and business owner, but enjoyed keeping his skills fresh. Kane had been the overseer of Archer’s private security team for years, one of the few people who knew both sides of his life. If that ex-boyfriend of hers tried anything, Kane would handle it—and give him the full report.
Thank you again. This is really above and beyond for a stranger.
Archer frowned at the message. Stranger. Technically accurate, yet it felt wrong somehow. Their interaction last night had been brief but intense, the kind of encounter that compressed time and accelerated familiarity.
Consider it my good deed for the month.
Her response came quickly:Only one good deed per month? Setting a low bar there, Bullet.
A smirk lifted the corner of his mouth.Quality over quantity.
He could almost see her smile as she typed back:Fair enough. I’ll be awaiting your quality locksmith.
Archer set the phone down and turned to the wall of windows. Somewhere out there, in one of those countless buildings, Morgan was waiting for Kane to arrive. He should be focusing on the international security contract on his desk, not wondering what her home looked like or how she took her coffee.
