“Our pleasure,” Hawk said with his characteristic reserve, though his expression was welcoming. “How was your week?”
Before Morgan could answer, another motorcycle pulled into the lot—a powerful matte-black machine that Archer recognized immediately as Kane’s custom build.
They watched as Kane parked and approached, removing his helmet to reveal his close-cropped hair and the scar that ran along his jawline. “Morning,” he greeted the group, then turned to Morgan with a respectful nod. “Ms. Reeves.”
“Please, it’s Morgan,” she insisted, extending her hand. “And thank you. Your cameras caught our intruder in the act.”
Kane’s expression darkened slightly. “Briggs and I are working on finding the culprit.”
“If you’re all done with the pleasantries,” Viper interrupted, adjusting his gloves, “some of us would like to hit the road before noon.”
“Still not a morning person, I see,” Diesel teased, earning a scowl from Viper that held no real heat.
Archer watched as Morgan took in the easy camaraderie between his friends, her expression both amused and slightly wistful. He made a mental note to ask about her own friendships beyond Tessa, whom she mentioned regularly.
“Mount up,” Hawk instructed, always the tactician of the group. “Standard formation, but we’ll put Morgan and Bullet in the middle for safety. Kane and I will take the rear, Viper and Diesel up front.”
The precision with which they organized themselves spoke to their military background, something that clearly wasn’t lost on Morgan based on her small smile.
“You guys do this often, I’m guessing,” she commented as she pulled down her visor.
“Old habits,” Hawk replied with a hint of a smile. “Hard to break.”
Soon they were on the road, the formation moving smoothly through traffic until they hit the coastal highway where the real enjoyment began. Archer was acutely conscious of Morgan behind him, her body pressed against his back, moving in perfect synchronicity with his as they leaned into curves and straightened on the open stretches.
The first hour passed in the pure joy of the ride, the ocean glittering to their right, the winding road demanding just enough attention to be engaging without being stressful. At the agreed-upon lookout point, they pulled over, dismounting to stretch their legs and take in the spectacular view.
“This is so worth getting up early on a weekend for.” Morgan commented, moving to stand at the railing overlooking the coastline.
Viper joined her, his lean frame casually elegant even in riding gear. “It’s better further north. The cliffs get higher, the views more dramatic.”
“You’ve been riding together a long time?” Morgan asked, glancing between Viper and the others.
“Since we got back to civilian life,” Viper confirmed, his gloved hands resting on the railing. “Started with just occasional rides, evolved into this weekly ritual.”
Archer watched from a slight distance, giving Morgan space to interact with his friends without his hovering presence. It was fascinating to observe the dynamics—how Diesel’s warmth drew her out, how Hawk’s quiet attentiveness made her thoughtful, how Viper’s cool assessment gradually warmed as she passed whatever internal test he’d set.
Kane approached, positioning himself beside Archer. "She fits," he observed quietly.
"Yes," Archer agreed, the simple statement covering complex emotions. "She does."
"You're taking a risk," Kane continued, his tone neutral rather than judgmental. "With the acquisition this week..."
"I know." Archer sighed behind his visor. "I'm telling her after Thursday's meeting. Once Jenkins is handled and her name is cleared."
Kane nodded, understanding without further explanation. "She seems strong enough to handle it. And for what it's worth, I've observed enough of you both to know what's between you isn't fabricated. She'll see that too, eventually."
Before Archer could respond, Hawk called out that it was time to continue. They remounted their bikes and continued north, the scenery growing more spectacular with each mile. Morgan’s occasional gasps of appreciation were audible through their helmet communication system, her genuine delight in the journey adding to Archer’s own enjoyment even as conversation easily flowed between them.
By the time they reached the seaside town where they planned to have lunch, Archer could sense Morgan was becoming more comfortable with the group. She dismounted with greater ease, her movements showing less of the stiffness from the previous ride’s tension.
The restaurant was a local favorite—a weathered building perched on pilings over the water, with expansive views of the harbor from its deck. As they settled at their usual table, Archer noted with satisfaction that the staff didn’t bat an eye at his helmet. They’d been coming here long enough that his peculiarities were accepted without question.
Once their drinks arrived, Diesel leaned back in his chair and glanced at Morgan. “So what’s next for you—once the dust settles with your job? You planning to go back?”
Morgan hesitated, then gave a half-shrug. “I’m not sure. Yesterday I actually spent a few hours beefing up my resume and researching other options, just in case. There’s a nonprofit I’ve always dreamed of working for—Sea Guardian Foundation. They do ocean conservation and coastal protection. I didn’t intern there, but it’s the kind of place I always hoped I’d end up.”
Kane nodded. “Sounds like a solid pivot.”
