Page 4 of Devlin

She peered deeply, then smiled and nodded. She rattled off her phone number before the principal ushered her away. Devlin memorized it instantly.

He watched her disappear into the school, his heart hammering in his chest. The coach’s threats fell on deaf ears as he returned to practice with a goofy grin plastered across his face.

Devlin hadn’t understood then what had struck him. But now, all these years later, he knew exactly what he’d had—and what he’d lost.

3

The tires of Devlin’s SUV crunched over the gravel as he drove through the main gates of Lighthouse Security Investigations Montana. The early morning sun chased away the last whispers of night and the dreams that had lingered like ghosts in his mind. Shadows of the past always clung to him, but last night had been different. The memory had surfaced with startling clarity, leaving him to wake with an ache that settled deep in his chest, a reminder of wounds time couldn’t fully heal.

He pulled into his usual spot outside the low, unassuming building that served as LSIMT’s headquarters. The structure might have been modest, yet what went on inside was anything but. As he stepped out and approached the entrance, his shoulders straightened, and the heavy weight of the past began to lift. Work had a way of sharpening his focus and giving him purpose when the rest of his life sometimes felt unfulfilled.

Pushing through the doors, Devlin walked through the outer room. "Morning," he said, his voice warm as he smiled down at the petite woman maneuvering her wheelchair with practiced ease.

"Howdy, yourself, big guy." Mary Smithwick’s sharp eyes sparkled with mischief as she rolled past, offering a wink that made him chuckle.

She was the backbone of the operation, a Keeper in every sense of the word. She managed the office like a general commanding troops, balancing the chaos with an uncanny ability to know exactly what everyone needed—even before they did. Fiercely efficient and endlessly compassionate, she’d become the heartbeat of LSIMT, and someone they all relied on.

Devlin moved deeper into the building, passing through the intricate security measures Logan had insisted on—the fingerprint pad, retina scan, and employee passcodes. Once inside, Devlin bypassed the equipment room, where Bert Tomlinson was tinkering with something. Usually, he’d stop to chat, but today was different. Logan had called for a morning meeting, hinting at a new mission, and Devlin wasn’t about to be late.

"Morning, Bert," he called with a quick wave, striding past without breaking pace.

He reached the conference room, where a few Keepers were already gathered. The air hummed with camaraderie, and nods of acknowledgment passed between them. Devlin glanced around, once again struck by the caliber of the people Logan had assembled. His SEAL team had been elite, but this group was the best he’d ever worked with. Each brought a unique skill set forged through years of military service in special ops, honed by Logan’s exacting standards.

Landon Sommers had transitioned from the military to the FBI, becoming a liaison with the West Coast branch of LSI. He then left the FBI and joined the Montana branch, wanting a new place to call home. Cole Iverson, their pilot, had come from the original LSI team in Maine. Frazier and Dalton Dolby, brothers who worked with seamless precision, had followed in theirsibling's footsteps from LSIWC. Cory Brighton, a former Army Ranger sniper, sat quietly, his sharp eyes taking in everything. Casper—Aldo Casponi—moved with an eerie silence that had earned him his call sign, while Todd Blake brought a familial connection with siblings in Maine and on the West Coast. Timothy Clemons shared a similar tie through his brother-in-law. And then there was Sadie Hargrove, the tech genius who could unravel even the most complex digital puzzles, her skills honed during her time with military special ops.

The chatter tapered off as Logan entered the room, and all eyes naturally turned to him. Without a preamble, Logan began the meeting as he reviewed ongoing cases. One by one, the Keepers provided updates, each member contributing a piece to their ever-evolving work.

Devlin leaned back slightly, arms crossed as he listened. The sense of purpose in the room was almost tangible, a shared commitment that went beyond any one person. Moments like this reminded him why he’d joined LSI and why he stayed. Here, surrounded by these people, he felt fulfilled.

Logan leaned forward, his tone shifting to something more serious as he prepared to delve into the new mission. “A request came in from someone I met years ago while recuperating in Germany. At the time, she was visiting a close friend who was hospitalized. During those weeks, I learned she worked for the World Food Program—the WFP. It’s the largest humanitarian organization in the world, providing food relief in emergencies and assistance wherever needed most. Specifically, she oversees food programs in refugee camps across Africa.”

“Damn,” Sadie said, her brows lifting. “That’s a massive responsibility.”

Logan nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “It is. Back then, I was still trying to figure out my next move. My SEAL career was over, and I had no clue what myfuture would look like.” His expression softened, almost amused at the memory. “I think she saw an opportunity to recruit me. We spent a lot of time talking.”

His shoulders lifted in a casual shrug, though the weight of that time lingered in his eyes. “Ultimately, I knew it wasn’t my calling, but we stayed in touch. Usually, just a few emails a year to check in. Recently, her position was split because the workload was too much for one person. She’s now responsible for refugee camps in Uganda, Sudan, and a few other places. When I got her message, it wasn’t the usual friendly update—it was a request for help.”

Devlin’s interest was piqued, his mind already turning over the possibilities. He’d never met this woman, but the mere thought of someone dedicating their life to such work stirred something deep inside him. It reminded him of the time he’d spent on the Blackfeet Reservation and the respect he held for anyone called to serve. But that thought struck a nerve, sharp and sudden. An ache radiated from his chest, and instinctively, he lifted his fist, pressing it against his sternum as a memory surged to the surface, unbidden and raw.

“You good, man?” Sisco’s voice cut through his haze, low and quiet.

“Yeah.” Devlin forced the word out, his voice rough. “Just indigestion.” He lowered his hand, shaking off the unease, and fixed his attention back on Logan.

Logan’s gaze flicked toward him for a moment before continuing. “The email came from Margarethe Gunther, but I’ve also spoken with her superior at the WFP. They were notified by their food security officer at Bidi Bidi, one of the largest refugee camps in Uganda. It’s suspected that food is being stolen.”

Dalton leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. “I don’t want to sound insensitive, but isn’t a certain amount of theft expected in those conditions?”

“I asked the same thing,” Logan admitted. “But this isn’t random pilfering. The thefts appear systematic. The food security officer brought it directly to Margarethe because they don’t know who could be trusted in the camp. There’s concern that the stolen food is being sold on the black market—and possibly funneled across the border to supply the Congolese military.”

Frazier’s voice was tight with concern. “Is the whistleblower in danger?”

“She didn’t indicate they felt threatened.” Logan’s expression hardened. “I wasn’t given their name. Margarethe is keeping it under wraps for now. Of course, any whistleblower in this situation could be at serious risk if discovered.”

Devlin leaned forward, his voice steady. “What’s the mission?”

Logan’s gaze swept the room, his words measured. “I need a team of three to fly to Uganda. Margarethe will meet you in Germany. It’s not unusual for her to visit the camp. She often conducts unscheduled audits, so her presence won’t raise any alarms. She’s used to traveling with WFP personnel—interns, security, and sometimes both. So the three of you going with her will look perfectly normal. She will only be able to stay a day or two, but it will be enough for her to check on things and to get you established there.”

“Why us?” Todd asked, his tone curious but not defensive.