Page 15 of Duty Compromised
Same wrinkled lab coat hung loose on her shoulders. She had a couple more just like it on hooks by her station—identical, equally rumpled—like she spun a wheel each morning and grabbed whichever one fate selected. Fashion roulette, scientist edition.
That bull in a china shop comment? Landed harder than I wanted to admit. She wasn’t wrong. I was the guy who broke through doors, not the one who built the lock. My family collected diplomas the way other families collected fridge magnets—Frank with his PhD in history, Leonard molding young minds with math, Annabel catching babies, Bridget arguing cases in court, even Donovan with his way with animals.
And me? The Hughes sibling who barely scraped out of high school, signed on the dotted line, and let the Army pound discipline into me.
Now here I sat, parked in a swivel chair like a watchdog, watching a woman in her twenties solve problems that might as well be written in Martian. Hell, my brothers and sisters would have a field day with her. They’d talk algorithms and theories, nod along like they belonged. She wouldn’t even notice me standing here, except maybe to remind me not to knock something over.
You know, the oversized bull. The bull currently wondering if typing that fast should come with a warning label. Because watching her fingers fly across those keys? Yeah, that wasn’t just impressive—it was distracting as hell.
My phone vibrated against the metal desk, the hollow thing turning it into a damn drum. Ben’s name flashed on the screen.
I grabbed it and stepped into the hall, propping myself against the wall where I could still see into the lab. Charlotte hadn’t looked up once. Both keyboards were still under siege, her fingers a blur.
“Go for Hughes,” I answered.
“How’s the scientist assignment going? Boring as you thought it would be?”
“Living the dream.” I watched her roll her shoulders, quick and impatient, before diving back into the code like it had personally offended her. “I’ve counted the ceiling tiles three times. There’s 247 in the main lab. Thought you’d want to know.”
Ben chuckled. “That bad?”
“Worse. Yesterday, I made friends with a spider in the corner. Named him Fred. He’s got more personality than half the people in this building.”
“Any actual problems? Security concerns?”
“None. No unauthorized access, no weird activity. Just me, Fred, and a bunch of people who type faster than my brain can process.” I switched the phone to my other ear. “How’s the East Coast? At least tell me you’re rappelling off something.”
“Actual threats, actual work. You know, the stuff we’re trained for.” His tone shifted. “Speaking of which, you going to tell Ethan or Logan about this little side project?”
“I’m not exactly storming compounds here, Ben. I’m sitting in a chair while geniuses argue over keystrokes. Trust me, our bosses would laugh me out of the room.”
“You’re supposed to be recovering from a gunshot wound.”
“I am recovered. Mostly.” I rolled my shoulder—tight but functional. “Whether I sit at home or sit here, doesn’t make much difference.”
Ben sighed, the long-suffering kind. “Fine. What about the people? Scientists boring as predicted?”
My eyes locked on Charlotte. She shoved a strand of hair behind her ear. It immediately fell forward again, and she didn’t notice. “Definitely not what I was expecting.”
Ben caught the shift in my tone like a dog catching a scent. “Define not what you were expecting.”
I grinned at the glass wall, watching her mutter something under her breath at the screen. “Let’s just say the head genius isn’t an old guy in tweed. She’s…different.”
“She?”
“Yeah. Dr. Charlotte Gifford. Brilliant. Intense. Mid-twenties.”
“Mid-twenties and head of a world-renowned R&D lab?”
“George finally got me the full FBI file. Charlotte Gifford is twenty-six. She went to Stanford at sixteen. Had a couple PhDs by nineteen. Vertex scooped her straight out of graduation and never let go. She’s been leading R&D ever since.”
“Damn.” Ben let out a low whistle. “Child prodigy.”
“Mm.” I rubbed my jaw. Her résumé was definitely fucking impressive. “Meanwhile, I was flunking sophomore algebra and begging my coach to keep me academically eligible.”
“She sounds impressive.”
“She is. Me coming in on the first day and mistaking her for a receptionist did not help make a good impression.”
