Page 2 of Duty Compromised
I’d joined two years ago, right after my discharge. Best decision I’d ever made. I made my way over to the practice boxing gloves and slipped them on.
“You two sound like recruiters,” Donovan muttered.
“Just saying,” I started, but I stopped when I saw his expression. That blank look that meant the walls were up and reinforced.
“This the same Citadel where Ty’s been shot on his last two missions?” Donovan threw a combination that made the bag jump. “Real selling point there.”
“Both times were worth it,” I said, moving to the heavy bag. I started with basic combinations—jab, cross, hook. My footwork was shit, though. The wound made me hesitate on my pivot, throwing off my rhythm. “Colombia last year—we got Herrera. Child trafficker off the streets. And Corazón—Lauren’s alive and safe.”
“Lauren’s the doctor, right?” Donovan asked between strikes. “Logan’s woman?”
“That’s the one. And now she’s one of Citadel’s go-to doctors.” I threw another combination, feeling the pull in my shoulder. “Never thought I’d see Logan Kane actually happy. She’s got him completely wrapped around her finger.”
“Logan Kane smiles?” Ben asked from where he was working with dumbbells. “The same Kane who once went three days without saying more than ten words?”
“Same one. And Lauren’s become part of the family now.” The bag swayed as I worked through the pain. “Shows up at team dinners, knows everyone’s stories. Hell, she even gets Jace to explain his tech setups without making everyone’s eyes glaze over. Mel—Ethan’s wife—took to her immediately.”
But it was more than that. Lauren hadn’t just changed Logan—she’d become part of Citadel. Part of our weird, dysfunctional family. That’s what happened when you found the right person. They didn’t just fit into your life—they fit into your family. Your real family, the one you chose. The one that had your back when bullets started flying.
My gloves connected with the leather, but my mind wasn’t really on the bag. I’d had plenty of women over the years. Short-term, uncomplicated, exactly how I liked it. They never met the team, never came to Citadel events, never got close enough to matter. Easier that way. Cleaner. No one got hurt when things ended.
But sometimes, usually in the quiet hours when I couldn’t sleep, I wondered what it would be like. To have someone who’d worry when I was late checking in. Someone who understood why I did what I did. Someone who could handle this life without flinching.
Someone like?—
I slammed my fist into the bag hard enough to make my whole arm sing.
“Your left hook’s got no power,” Donovan observed, finishing his third set of fifty push-ups. “You’re pulling it.”
“I’m fucking aware.” I threw another combination, trying to push through the limitation.
“Try switching stances.” He moved to the kettlebells, snatching a fifty-three-pounder overhead in one smooth motion. “Take the pressure off that shoulder.”
I shifted my stance, leading with my right instead. I was right-handed but tended to fight as a southpaw, so this switch felt awkward, like learning to fight all over again. But the pain in my shoulder eased.
“So what’s it like?” Donovan asked suddenly. “Citadel. Day-to-day.”
This was the first time he’d asked. Both Ben and I froze for a second then resumed our activities.
“Depends on the contract,” I said, keeping my voice casual. “Executive protection, mostly. Celebrities, diplomats, corporate types who’ve pissed off the wrong people. Sometimes extraction work—getting people out of bad situations.”
“Like the doctor in Corazón. Lauren,” Donovan said.
“Exactly like that. Sometimes it’s just standing around looking menacing while some CEO plays golf.” I worked the bag from the new angle, finding my rhythm. “But when it matters—when someone’s life is on the line—there’s nothing like it. Knowing you’re the difference between someone making it home or not.”
“Even when you catch a bullet for it?” Donovan asked, nodding at my shoulder.
“Especially then. Means you did your job right.” I threw another combination, ignoring the pull. “Lauren’s alive, safe, happy with Logan. That’s what matters.”
“And the team?” Donovan had stopped hitting the bag, just standing there with his hands wrapped.
“Solid,” Ben said. “Ethan’s good people. Knows when to push, when to back off. Jace handles all the tech stuff—surveillance, communications, digital security. Logan’s tactical, like Ty. Andrew’s our pilot when we need one. Small team, tight unit. And a few others we use as needed.”
“Less bureaucratic bullshit,” I added. “No politics. Just the job.”
Donovan nodded slowly, processing. I could see him weighing it, measuring it against whatever was going on in his head. The nightmares he wouldn’t talk about. The reason he’d been drinking more than he should. The way he startled at unexpected sounds.
“Maybe,” he said finally. “After?—”
