Page 7 of Fallout

“Something wrong?” Clare stood on the opposite side of the desk. She planted one hand on top and leaned over, sighing when her abdomen touched the surface. “Oof. Ah, yes. The Rammington-Harper Industries event. That is tonight. After I take a nap.”

“Everything good?”

“All good.” Clare touched her baby bump. “She’s measuring right on track.”

“That’s great.”

According to the calendar, Clare had only two or three weeks left. And that was how long Destiny had to teach Clare’s staff to try and solve their problems without bothering her.

Her computer chimed. Clare looked at the screen and chuckled. “They’re relentless. That’s why they’re the best.”

“They really are.” On both counts. The Famous Ones had found Destiny in Africa after rebels had kidnapped her and another missionary and dragged them back to a compound.

They’d rescued her.

Courier delivery by lunch. Your dress and shoes for tonight.

Now, they were trying to rescue her in a different way. Like guardian angels, whose boss’s name was “Charlie.” And like the old TV show—and those terrible movies—they stopped at nothing to get what they wanted.

Her computer chimed again.

Would you have gone shopping?

Destiny replied,

That’s not the point.

Everyone knew what the point was. They were the ones who’d coached her through recovery and how it was going to go. As if they’d all walked through the same experience as Destiny at some point in their lives, so they knew what she was going through. She couldn’t push them away, arguing that they didn’t understand.

Destiny wasn’t sure she had it in her to make something of her life like they had. She wasn’t ever going to carry a gun, kick doors down, and save lives. But she could do her part—even if it was filing and giving reports to Clare to sign.

It was a job. She had a quiet life. For now, it was exactly what she needed. Even if her younger sisters thought she should “get out more” or whatever. They didn’t know what she’d been through.

They couldn’t imagine.

A message from Clare popped up.

Here’s the meeting packet.

Who knew when she’d prepared that? Destiny forwarded it to the whole staff that worked out of this office in Benson. Not the entire company. There were divisions of Vanguard even she didn’t know about.

Destiny sent a few emails. Did a couple of other admin tasks. Forwarded an adorable photo of Nora and Zander’s toddler son with their new baby to a few people who knew them.

Clare appeared at her door. “Tomorrow, I’ll show you how to prep the meeting packet. You’ll be able to do it for next week.”

“Okay, great.” Destiny tucked her chair in and grabbed the tablet that was an extension of her desktop.

Clare had slid off her shoes to walk barefoot to the conference room. She glanced over her shoulder. “Have you thought about training…later?”

“Self-defense, yes. Sure. That’s a good idea for any woman.” Even if it wouldn’t have made much of a difference in Africa since she’d been overpowered. “And the gun range. Though, I doubt I’ll ever get a gun of my own.”

Clare said, “There are plenty of weapons you could learn to use that aren’t guns. And martial arts can be good exercise.”

“Okay.”

Clare stopped at the door. The room was already full. “Yeah?”

“I don’t want to be an operative. Ever.” And her boss knew why. “But I want to get some training.”

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