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“Yep.”

He laughed and nodded toward the chairs across from his desk.

“Sit.”

I did, crossing my legs, heart hammering a little harder than I wanted to admit. It felt good to be doing something.

“This,” he said, tapping the file, “is a real case. Small potatoes, but still important. The local business owner thinks his employee is stealing inventory. Wants proof before he fires him.”

He slid the file toward me.

“Your job? Find out if the kid’s stealing.”

I opened the folder, scanning the notes.

Employee name, address, schedule, basic background.

No police record. No obvious red flags.

“Not exactly James Bond stuff” Owen said, smirking.

I smiled back, feeling a spark of confidence.

“Good. I'd hate to have to shoot anyone on my first day.”

He laughed again, loud and genuine.

"You’ll do fine, after all, you were a CIA agent.”

Then his face sobered.

“But seriously, Jude — you see something shady, you don’t go charging in solo. You call us. Got it?”

I nodded.

“Good,” Owen said, standing.

“Go home, read the file. Tomorrow you’ll start shadowing. You’ll follow him, take notes, and report back. And Jude?”

He leaned on the desk, lowering his voice.

“I meant what I said. You don’t take chances with your life.”

I nodded.

As I walked back out into the sunshine, my phone buzzed in my pocket.

Cyclone.

Miss you like hell already.

Be good. Don’t let Owen recruit you for anything crazy. ;)

I smiled so big my cheeks hurt. Owen must have sent Cyclone a text that I would be here this morning.

God, I missed him, too.

Miss you more.I texted back.Come home safe.