Page 55 of Cyclone

“Owen here,” came a deep, amused voice.

I swallowed hard.

“Hey. It’s Jude. You said you might have some work for me?”

There was a pause — then a warm chuckle.

“I knew you would call.”

Another pause.

“Come in tomorrow morning. We’ll find a place for you.”

I grinned for the first time all day.

I was starting over, and a new job was next on my list. Thank the Lord I didn’t have to stay at home. I would go crazy if I stayed home all the time.

I was building something new.

And when Cyclone came home, I wanted him to see that I was starting my new life with him, and that meant having a new job.

I wanted him to know that the woman he loved wasn’t broken anymore.

She was just getting started.

30

Jude

The building didn’t look like much from the outside.

Just a long, low structure tucked between a surf shop and a motorcycle garage, the windows shaded, no obvious signs that screamed “Private Investigator’s Office” to the world.

I kind of loved that.

It felt... safe.

Hidden, just like I used to be.

I wiped my palms on my jeans and pushed through the door.

Inside, it was all polished wood floors, black leather couches, and a massive desk that looked like it had seen its fair share of heated conversations.

The walls were covered in framed photos — old missions, news articles, commendations.

It smelled like coffee and something faintly metallic — gun oil, maybe.

It smelled like purpose.

“Well, look who showed up,” a voice called from behind the desk.

I turned to see Owen— tall, muscled, tattooed — grinning like he’d been expecting me all along. Even before I called him.

He tossed a file onto the desk and motioned me forward.

“Ready for your first test?”

I lifted my chin.

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