“How did you get into HR?” he asked.
Emma glanced up; surprise that he initiated the conversation flitted across her face. “Psychology degree, business minor. Started in corporate recruiting when I discovered I was better at reading people than selling products.” She tilted her head. “How did you end up in private security?”
“Military until Nick and David needed someone they could trust.”
“That’s the short version.”
“That’s the version.”
“Right.” Emma’s smile was slight but genuine. “I’ll guess eight to ten years of active duty followed by a decision point somewhere in there where you chose this over… what? Career military? Government work? Corporate security? Private contracting?”
Zach’s hands hesitated again. She was good. He’d given her almost nothing, and she’d extrapolated the broad strokes with unerring accuracy.
“All of the above,” he said. “Eight years active duty. Then, Nick and David were building something that mattered. They wanted me to join them. I didn’t re-up. Did some contract work on the side for a few years as Ivory Tower got going.”
“Loyalty,” Emma said softly. “That’s the real answer, isn’t it? You’re not here for the job. You’re here for them.”
Before Zach could decide whether to confirm, the lights died.
Total blackout.
He was moving before the darkness fully registered, years of training overriding everything else. He crossed to his packin three strides, retrieved his tactical flashlight, and swept the beam across the room. Emma hadn’t moved from the table.
“Stay here,” he ordered, already at the door. He had to make sure this was the storm, and not human-engineered.
“Zach—”
The door shut behind him, cutting her off.
The perimeter check took four minutes. Zach swept through the dark with practiced efficiency, scanning the tree line and the distant glow of the main resort building’s emergency lighting.
The storm appeared to have knocked out the local grid. Nothing suspicious. No movement beyond wind-driven palm fronds and rain pelting the ground.
When he returned to the cottage, soft golden light spilled from the windows.
Zach paused in the doorway.
Emma had lit candles.
They were scattered throughout the great room—on the kitchen counter, the dining table, the coffee table near the couch. The small flames cast dancing shadows on the walls, transforming the functional space into something almost.… peaceful.
Emma looked up from where she was lighting the last candle. “Better than sitting in the dark, right?”
He closed the door and locked it. “Power’ll be out for a while.”
“I figured.” She straightened, brushing her hands on her yoga pants. “I also found the emergency lantern in the closet if you need brighter light for… whatever security checks are next on your list.”
A candle sat on the side table next to the couch he’d sleep on. She’d put a candle out for him—a small gesture of consideration that she probably hadn’t thought twice about.
Zach noticed. Didn’t comment. But something in his chest shifted uncomfortably.
“Thanks,” he said, because he should say something.
Emma smiled. “You’re welcome.”
The storm intensified, rain hammering against the roof. Lightning flashed white across the windows, followed by thunder that rattled the glass. Emma moved to the window seat that overlooked the ocean, tucking herself into the corner with her mug.
After a moment’s hesitation, he joined her—not close, but near enough to follow her gaze. The ocean was barely visible through the rain, just darkness and motion beneath a sky split by lightning.
