Page 45 of Devlin

Devlin studied her face, wondering if she’d be disappointed at the modest town, but there was no trace of dismay. Only awe. He liked that she wasn’t the kind of woman who needed luxury to be impressed.

They reached the end of the road and parked. “Let’s get out and walk,” Jonan suggested. “Then we’ll eat at one of the little cafés before heading back to camp.”

The midday sun blazed overhead, casting shimmering reflections off the water as they stepped onto the sandy path leading toward the shore. Dugout canoes—ebiso, as Jonan called them—were lined up along the water’s edge, their hulls carved from ancient trees. Fishermen crouched beside their boats, mending nets with long needles, their hands moving with the practiced precision of men who had done this every day of their lives. Others waded knee-deep into the shallows, dragging in baskets overflowing with freshly caught tilapia and Nile perch.

Mia wrinkled her nose, tilting her face up to Devlin. “The long, thin boats are certainly practical, but aren’t big enough to smuggle anything significant.”

“They could be used for small loads of drugs or medical supplies,” Cole mused.

She nodded, but the crease between her brows deepened, her thoughts clearly still turning over the information.

“Look over there,” Jonan said, pointing at a wooden dock farther down the beach. Several boats, larger than the ebiso,were tied there, their hulls boasting small outboard motors. “Those could easily make it across the lake in half the time. Some are small, but I’ve seen others that could carry larger crates.”

Mia exhaled, her voice quieter now. “And they just pay off whoever they need to, right?”

Devlin watched as frustration flickered across her features, her lips pressing into a thin line. Without thinking, he lifted a hand and brushed his thumb over the furrow between her brows, smoothing it away. Her lips twitched at the tender gesture, and he allowed himself the smallest of smiles in return.

“It doesn’t take much," he said, his voice low. "Here, even a small cut of the profits is enough to make it worth looking the other way.”

Mia’s fingers curled into her palm. “It’s hard,” she admitted, her voice carrying the weight of too many battles fought in places just like this. “We work so hard to get food to people who need it, but then so many more are suffering just across the border. And when smugglers steal, they don’t take it for their own families. They funnel it straight to insurgents while their own people starve.”

She exhaled sharply as if pushing the weight of the world from her shoulders. “I was always told not to take it personally when I got into this work. That I should do my job and not let the world’s problems affect how I do it. But I don’t know how to turn it off.”

The four men exchanged glances, but Devlin reached out again, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. His fingertips lingered on her jaw for half a second longer than necessary.

“You’ve always cared. That’s what makes you… you,” he murmured.

She turned her face upward to peer intently at him before he nodded slightly.

Jonan introduced them to several of the fishermen. Though some were wary, a few admitted that at night, boats often left from hidden ports, laden with crates. When they returned from the other side, they were empty.

By the time they climbed back into the van, Mia was quieter, staring out the window in thought.

“Hey.” Devlin drew her gaze to him. “What’s on your mind?”

She let out a humorless laugh. “The stealing. The smuggling. It’ll never stop. It’s like Margarethe said… plug one hole, and ten more open.”

He nodded, understanding her frustration. He hated that she felt the loss so personally, but at the same time, he knew her heart too well to think she’d ever stop caring. “You’re right,” he admitted.

She snorted. “Wow. Great pep talk, Devlin.”

He chuckled. “We can’t stop the smuggling, Mia. But we can stop whoever is running it from inside the camp. That will keep you safe.”

Todd turned in his seat. “If we can identify the leader, we can at least shut down their operation for a while. Sure, another will take its place eventually. But that takes time.”

She nodded but remained quiet as they reached the small café nestled at the edge of the Queen Elizabeth National Forest.

By the time they’d finished their meal, laughing over Jonan’s childhood stories and listening to Cole and Todd talk about adjusting to life in Montana, Devlin was relieved to see Mia smiling again.

And if he was lucky, he’d spend the rest of his life making sure that smile never faded.

19

The next day, Devlin strode down the narrow lane, his boots kicking up soft puffs of dust as he took in the familiar sights and sounds of the refugee camp. The mingling scents of wood smoke, earth, and cooking food filled the air, and the lively chaos of conversation and activity wove through the breeze. He glanced sideways, unable to suppress the small smile tugging at his lips.

Mia walked beside him, her presence a quiet warmth at his side. He watched as she greeted the refugees and workers they passed. Her dark eyes held a kindness that never wavered. He’d known she was special the first time he’d truly seen her all those long years ago. The way people responded to her—offering smiles, nods, murmured words of gratitude—only deepened his admiration.

When they had returned from the previous day’s excursion, Mia had immediately hurried to the food storage center to check with Farid, ensuring the day’s deliveries had gone without problems. Last evening, they had talked for a short while, catching up on each other’s families and sharing anecdotes about where they’d worked over the past years of separation.

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