Page 32 of Devlin (Lighthouse Security Investigations Montana #4)

The air inside the food distribution center in Sweswe was thick with heat and tension.

The shuffle of workers moving crates, the conversations of the refugees gathering for their rations, and the clatter of metal as supplies were stacked created a chaotic symphony.

But none of it distracted Mia from the slow-burning anger curling in her gut.

She stood rigid, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, frustration tightening her features as she scanned the dwindling supplies.

The lines of refugees had already begun forming, their patient but weary faces a stark reminder of what was at stake.

Beside her, Farid stood just as tense, his expression mirroring her own frustration.

“How the hell could we be short again?” she growled, the edge in her voice sharper than she intended.

Farid exhaled heavily. “You know the answer to that as well as I do.” His voice was low, resigned, and filled with the weight of experience. He turned and signaled one of the workers.

“Did you get all the food off the trucks last night?” Farid asked.

The worker shook his head, looking nervous. “I didn’t get here until early this morning when my shift started.”

Farid let out a curt breath, waving the man away with a flick of his hand before turning back to Mia. “I have the night shift on a rotating schedule. Sometimes even a surprise schedule.”

Mia’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean a surprise schedule?”

“One that they don’t predict. It makes it harder for them to plan.” He rubbed the back of his neck, his dark eyes shadowed with worry. “That’s why we usually have unmarried men on the night shift. I mix up their nights so they can’t plan with one of the truck drivers.”

“That’s a good idea.” She nodded.

He gave a half-hearted shrug. “Sometimes my ideas are not born of genius but more of desperation.”

Mia studied him, sensing something deeper behind his words. “What do you mean?”

Farid hesitated before sighing. “A married man working the night shift could be more susceptible to taking a bribe to keep his family safe from a threat than a single man.”

Her chest tightened, a dull ache settling in. The fact that these were the kinds of decisions they had to make—choosing between integrity and survival—was a painful reality.

“If I haven’t told you recently,” she said softly, “I’m happy to be working with you.”

He gave her a tired but genuine smile before a sudden crash interrupted them. A crate tumbled from one of the stacks, scattering supplies across the floor. Without a word, Farid rushed off to deal with the workers, leaving Mia standing alone.

She turned just in time to see Devlin and Todd walking in.

Even before she spoke, Devlin was already moving toward her, his sharp eyes scanning her face. “What’s the matter?”

For a moment, she just stared at him, surprised by the instant recognition of her emotion.

There was a time when all he had to do was look at her to know what she was thinking, to read every shift in her mood without her saying a word.

The fact that he could still do it, even after all these years, sent a warm peace through her.

Blowing out a frustrated breath, she finally said, “Food was taken last night.”

Devlin’s gaze flicked toward Todd. They didn’t exchange a single word, but something unspoken passed between them. With a nod, Todd turned on his heel and jogged outside.

Mia arched an eyebrow. “Was it something I said?”

Devlin smiled and shook his head. “We put up several security cameras in each of the food warehouses. We don’t have them everywhere or at all angles, but Todd’s going to check the footage and see what we can find out.”

Her jaw dropped slightly as her gaze shot around the interior of the building. “Why didn’t you tell me you had done this?”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Because you might not have acted normally with your staff.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Do you not trust Farid?”

“Mia,” he said, his tone even but firm, “other than you, I don’t trust anyone here.”

She stared at him for a long moment, reading the conviction in his gaze. Finally, she murmured, “That sounds like the voice of experience speaking.”

He nodded slowly. “It is. You can’t work as long as I did in the military, for the reservation, or even for LSIMT, and not know what people are capable of.”

Mia exhaled, running a hand through her hair as she looked around the warehouse.

Outside, life continued as babies cried, children laughed and played, and women gossiped in different languages while men shouted instructions to one another.

The world outside this warehouse was full of movement, but inside, the weight of her job, of these stolen rations, pressed down on her shoulders.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice quiet. “Maybe my predecessor had the right idea.”

Devlin frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

“The man who had this job before me didn’t use the main distribution warehouse much. There was talk about repurposing it for something else. Instead, he just used his office to direct where the trucks should take the food directly to the villages.”

She hesitated, then added, “But then when I took over, there seemed to be a lot of loss and mismanagement. I quickly realized that unless the food came to one distribution center first, there was no way of ensuring each village got exactly what they needed. Trucks would end up bouncing between villages, and it became a logistic mess. I talked to Dr. München, and he gave me free rein to set up the distribution my way. And for a long time, it worked. We weren’t losing food. ”

Devlin gave a knowing nod. “You filled up a hole.”

She blinked, slightly taken aback. “I’m sorry?”

He stepped closer, his gaze intent. “Your predecessor was taking kickbacks.”

Mia’s lips parted, confusion flickering across her face. “What?”

“If there was a loss of food under him, and it stopped when you changed the system, then it means he figured out it was easier for smugglers to steal food when it was being delivered straight to the villages. He was probably getting a cut of it. You came in, saw something that didn’t make sense, and changed it. And it worked. You filled the hole.”

Understanding dawned, and with it came a heavy sigh. “And now, more holes have popped up.”

“All you can do is the best job you know how,” Devlin said, his voice steady. “You can’t contain or control other people’s evil.”

She didn’t speak for a long moment, simply holding his gaze, her mind racing with the implications of his words. Finally, she whispered, “Again, you’re speaking from experience.”

A shadow crossed his face. “In my job, we try to protect and investigate what others are doing. We’re not always successful. And because crime always exists…” His voice dropped slightly, edged with something darker. “I’ll always have a job.”

Just then, Devlin’s phone vibrated against his thigh. He pulled it from his pocket, his gaze flickering over the screen. Whatever message he read made his expression sharpen, his posture straightening with a new sense of urgency.

Before she could ask, he looked up, his voice decisive. "Let's go. Todd and Cole have some information for us."

Mia nodded, a renewed sense of purpose sparking through her. She turned, catching Farid’s attention with a wave, then gestured toward the door. He gave a quick nod in understanding.

"Okay, let's go," she said, already moving.

"Todd took the Jeep, so we’ll start walking and hitch a ride with someone," Devlin suggested as they stepped out into the sun.

The dusty road stretched ahead, heat shimmering off the hard-packed ground.

Mia moved briskly, but with Devlin’s height, his natural stride was nearly twice the length of hers.

She had to take almost two steps for every one of his, a fact that used to never bother her because he had always adjusted to her pace. Now, he hadn’t. Not at first, anyway.

Then as if realizing, he suddenly slowed. "Jesus, Mia, I'm sorry."

She laughed, shaking her head. "That's okay. Keeping up with you will get my steps in today."

His gaze swept over her, a quick but thorough assessment from her face to her feet and back again. Then he sighed, a quiet exhale that carried more weight than she expected.

Something in his expression made her self-conscious. She tilted her head, her tone light, but her stomach knotted. "What?"

He hesitated, then admitted, "I was going to say that you didn’t need more exercise but needed to eat more. But of course, considering where we are and what everyone else has, I knew that would be insensitive."

Mia’s hands instinctively smoothed over her waist and hips, as if tracing the loss herself. She knew she had lost weight… more than she probably realized. The long days, the constant stress, the lack of consistent meals had all taken its toll.

But the thought that maybe she no longer looked the same to him, that maybe he didn’t see her the way he used to, struck deeper than she wanted to admit. Before she could pull away from the thought, Devlin reached out, his knuckle lifting her chin gently.

He bent close, his breath warm against her skin. "Stop that," he murmured.

Her brows furrowed. "Stop what?"

"Wondering if you're still beautiful to me," he said, his voice low, unwavering. "Because the answer is hell yes."

Mia’s heart stuttered, her breath catching. Years and distance hadn’t dulled his ability to read her thoughts. He still knew her, still saw her in ways no one else ever had.

A slowing truck broke the moment. Dust kicked up around them as the old flatbed truck ground to a stop.

Several refugees reached for her arms, steadying her as Devlin placed his hands at her waist and lifted her effortlessly into the truck bed.

A second later, he climbed in behind her with the same ease.

They smiled and greeted the others, finding seats among them.