He checked his computer screen, and I looked around some more.
This was probably what Kiera felt walking into a bookstore or…well, her latest obsession was Williams Sonoma. Her old man had set aside a nice chunk of money for her when he’d sold his house, and he wanted to help her get her dream kitchen in order.
That was my one and only struggle with Kiera. She was immediately on the fence about things she couldn’t afford. I’d told her repeatedly that everything was good. I’d shown her my finances, we’d started a joint account, all that stuff, but she insisted it was my money and not ours.
I was working on that too, though. She’d get there eventually. The shit she gave me couldn’t fucking compare.
“Umm, please hold a sec—I’ll be right back,” the guy said before scurrying away.
All right.
Two men headed across the space to the back, where it looked like they had a break room area, and I tilted my head. Posture said so much about a person.
Aforementioned break room area consisted of a few round tables and chairs, a kitchenette, and, lo and behold, some gym equipment farther in.
I spotted a basketball hoop closer to the center of the far back. A set of stairs leading down too.
Interesting.
Next, I stuck my hands down my pockets and glanced up toward the second floor along both sides. Those spaces seemed to be off-limits. Private offices, something called “The Lab.” Some sections of the glass walls were transparent, some frosted. All of them had writing in big, bold black letters. Words like “Engineered for the future,” “Private defense,” and “MadCo Sec” stood out. Instead of names printed outside the office doors, they’d opted for things like “Head Engineer,” “Cyber Unit,” “Red Team,” and “Top Aggressor.”
Whoever the owner of the company was, one thing was certain. They were former military. They were former Air Force, more precisely. It was an energy. Something in the decor, the use of “aggressor,” focus on technical engineering, the aircraft hangar itself, how people walked, the sleekness of the interior design, the gym equipment, and even the vending machines. One by one, nothing much could be said. But all put together?
We should send our recruits in here and see how they would profile the joint.
As I glanced back at the vending machines, I determined those were one of the more telling features. I remembered bitching about my base until I’d visited an Army installation. I’d been fucking horrified. One meal served in their DFAC, and I’d been ready to run back to my own base. Or, as I’d gotten older and I’d been to various bases on Hillcroft assignments, the glimpses I’d gotten into the soldiers’ lives these days… Booze, energy drinks, trash food, and snacks. Smokes had been replaced by nicotine pouches.
We’d always had less of that in the Air Force. I had two cousins who’d become lifers as airmen, going on twenty-plus years in the service now, and they would like this place. They’d approve of the vending machine selection. High-protein, fibrous, low-sugar… Some candy too, of course.
They accepted cash, cards, and “Mad” tokens.
I faced forward again when I heard someone approaching.
The young guy was back, taking quick steps behind someone much older who took longer strides.
“Sorry to keep you waitin’, Mr. Hyatt. Looks like we have a mix-up on our hands. The guy you’re supposed to meet is out on a call, so I’ll be helpin’ you today.” The man reached me and extended his hand. “Colt Carter—welcome to our playground.”
I shook his hand firmly. Had I been blind, I almost would’ve thought I was talking to Kiera’s old man. They had the same Texan accent. Kiera’s was more subtle and polished.
“No problem. Good to meet you,” I replied. “It sure looks like my kind of playground too.”
“Excellent.” He smirked and gave the younger guy’s shoulder a squeeze. “How about you get us some coffee. We’ll be in the showroom.”
“Yes, sir.” The guy turned to me. “How would you like your coffee? We also have water, soda, and tea.”
“Black coffee would be great, thanks.” I nodded with a dip of my chin, then followed Carter toward the other end.
The showroom was more of a boardroom, but they’d set up catalogues on the table, and they had a bunch of items on display along the side. A selection of their security doors, cardboard cutouts of checklists to go through when choosing your alarm system, self-defense gadgets, offers of personal security for businesses, and rundowns of software options.
I wanted as little software as possible.
“Have a seat. If memory serves, you already ordered a new door?”
“I did, yeah.”
He sat down in front of me and opened a laptop. “Lemme find your order real quick, and we’ll get started. Do you have anythin’ specific in mind already?”
I tipped my head, weighing my answer. “At the young age of almost forty-nine, I’m about to be a dad for the first time, so I need gadgets that will eliminate most of the sprinting if someone poses a threat to my family.”
