Page 24 of Anchor
For a long moment, they stayed like that, his forehead pressed to hers, the water rinsing them clean, the sound of theirbreathing louder than the spray. Finally, he eased her down, kissed her gently, and reached to shut the water off. He wrapped her in a towel first, then himself, before guiding her back to the bedroom.
She dressed slowly, her movements less guarded than they’d been hours ago, while Reid, shirtless and donning his tuxedo pants, padded into her kitchen. He found her coffeemaker and filled it with water. The smell of brewing coffee began to fill the apartment, grounding him.
His phone on the counter buzzed. Reid wiped his hands on the towel and glanced at the screen. The name there froze him.Ian.No number, no alias. Just the name, waiting.
Reid’s jaw tightened as the phone buzzed again in his hand, insistent. Behind him, he heard Claire’s footsteps approaching, light across the floorboards.
He answered before she could see the screen, “Hanlon.”
“Reid,” Ian’s voice drawled. “Glad you picked up.”
“Mr. Chase.”
“Call me Ian,” he said, smooth as glass. “I know you’re with Claire Bowman. Third-floor walk-up, east-facing windows, coffee brewing in the kitchen.”
Reid’s grip on the phone tightened. He glanced at the doorway Claire had just reached. His jaw set. “You’ve made your point.”
“No,” Ian corrected, calm but precise. “Not yet. My point is this: you’re inside now. Chase put you on the board, and you walked onto it without hesitation. That’s good. But it means the days of acting on instinct alone are over. You’ll be getting your orders from Noah Paulsen.”
The name landed like a bomb. Paulsen. Chase Ann Arbor’s XO. The branch’s field commander. He was a respected former SEAL but not known for being gentle.
“Paulsen’s leash may feel tight, but it will keep you alive. And I need you alive, Reid. I don’t waste assets. Not when they’ve bled as much as you have.”
Reid said nothing, his silence deliberate.
Ian let it hang, then added, “Don’t mistake this for trust. You’ll earn that, or you won’t. Either way, we’ll find out soon enough.” The line went dead.
Reid stood there, phone still in his hand, listening to the hum of the coffeemaker and the faint footsteps of Claire moving closer. The ordinary sounds only sharpened the edge inside him. Ian didn’t call to rattle him. He called to mark him, to shift the ground under his feet.
Third-floor walk-up. East-facing windows. Coffee brewing.Ian hadn’t only known where he was. He chose to say it.That was no warning. That was ownership. A reminder that no matter how steady Reid thought he stood, Ian already had the angles mapped out.
Reid’s stomach tightened. The gala—every moment of it replayed in his mind now in a new frame. The only variable was the three intruders. The eyes on him, the way Chase Security’s people tracked his moves, the way Claire was left behind by her mother. None of it was coincidence. It was a crucible, a tryout—not for operator status but for team leader of the primary tactical team in Ann Arbor.
Reid set the phone down on the counter, the case clicking louder than he meant it to. He braced both hands against the edge, staring down at thedark tile. He hadn’t asked for this, hadn’t lobbied, hadn’t even thought about the word “command” since the Navy.
If Ian was routing him through Noah, the decision had already been made. He wasn’t just in Ann Arbor. He was going to be running Ann Arbor’s Tree Town One.
The thought of the job pressed into him, not just the title, but what it meant. Operators watching him and depending on him. And Ian, somewhere above it all, pulling threads, watching to see if he held or broke.
And what did this mean for Claire?
Ian said:“You’re not her shadow. You’re not her leash. You’re her anchor. Get her to her home in Kerrytown safely. Stay in her line of sight. Explain to her we are examining what happened tonight, and until we get a handle on things, we would like to err on the side of caution to keep her safe. If anything smells off, you call me directly. No chains of command.”
He closed his eyes for half a second and drew a slow breath through his nose. The shift was done. The ground was different now. He could either fight it or plant his feet and stand.
When he opened his eyes, the coffeemaker gave its last hiss and beep, filling the kitchen with its sharp, bitter scent. Reid poured two mugs automatically, muscle memory from a hundred mornings in barracks, safehouses, and half-lit kitchens where the only thing holding a man upright was caffeine and grit.
But as the steam rose, his thoughts dragged back, uninvited, to the last time he’d carried command. The Teams. Mali. Faces that looked to him for the nod, for the move, for the go. The faces he could still see in the dark when sleep turned shallow.
Command held a burden. And every ounce of it pressed down on him now with a familiar, unwelcome ache.
He’d thought Chase meant a different track. It could be easy security work, babysitting the rich. Structure without command. Purpose without the burden. But if Ian tied him to Noah, then it wasn’t a choice anymore. Ian didn’t ask if Reid wanted it. He assigned it. Last night was a test, and he’d passed.
The question wasn’t if he could carry it again. The question was if he wanted to.
Claire was now dressed, her damp hair pulled back, and her eyes sharper than they had been all night. Reid passed her a mug without a word. She wrapped both hands around the ceramic, inhaling before sipping.
She takes it black.He watched her process. He didn’t have to explain much. Her mind was already moving, gears spinning faster than his words could keep up.
