Page 29

I barely brace before Malia crashes into me, squeezing so tight I almost lose my breath.

“Oh my God, you’re here!” She envelopes me in a fierce hug that nearly knocks the wind out of me. The familiar scent of her perfume—vanilla and something citrusy—brings a rush of memories, both good and painful. “It’s so good to see you.”

Emotion clogs my throat, my hands gripping her just as fiercely.

And then, just as quickly, she pulls back, scanning my face like she’s making sure I’m really standing in front of her.

“I have so much to tell you,” she says, eyes flashing with urgency.

Before I can answer, her expression shifts, turning serious.

“But first—” she glances around, lowering her voice, “—we need to talk. Like, right now.” She shoots a playfully stern look at Hank and Gabe. “You two have had her all to yourselves. My turn.”

Without waiting for Hank and Gabe to respond, Malia loops her arm through mine, pulling me away from them and deeper into the café.

“Look at you,” she says, examining me with bright eyes. “You look amazing! ”

“So do you,” I reply, voice thick with emotion. She has changed—her dark hair is styled differently, and her face is fuller and healthier. Most striking is the absence of that haunted look in her eyes. “So much better than?—”

“Than in that hellhole?” she finishes for me, her smile turning wry. “Yeah, freedom agrees with me.” She tugs me behind the counter, her energy infectious. “Come see what I’ve been doing.”

As we round the corner, she lifts a hand in greeting. “Hey, Mike. Thanks again for coming in last minute.”

The technician, crouched in front of the espresso machine with his toolbox open, gives her a nod without looking up. “Wouldn’t miss it. This beast has seen better days.”

“Tell me about it.” Malia flashes a grin. “Treat her nice. She’s the only reason half this base functions.”

She shoots me a look and jerks her head toward the chaos. “Today is testing my patience. We’re down one machine and up about twenty percent in customers because some genius scheduled three department meetings back-to-back.” She sighs dramatically, then brightens.

“That machine’s been acting up ever since I came back,” Malia explains, following my gaze. “And, of course, it breaks down completely during our busiest time.”

Hank and Gabe get in line. Their laser-focused gaze follows me with mingled amusement and tolerant indulgence.

“Hey, if you’re not working on your thesis or, you know, doing anything—” her eyes flick briefly to Hank and Gabe, “—we could sure use an extra hand around here. No pressure, but you can escape and hide out here if you ever get bored.”

Before I can respond, she’s waving frantically at someone behind the counter. “Jenna! Come meet Ally.” Malia continues pulling me along, introducing me. “This is Jenna, my partner in caffeinated crime,” she says, indicating a woman with sleek dark hair pulled into a practical ponytail. “Jenna, this is Ally, quantum physicist extraordinaire and fellow Malfor survivor.”

Jenna’s smile is genuine yet distracted. “Welcome to the madhouse. Excuse the chaos—it’s not usually quite this—” A crash from behind the counter makes her wince. “Duty calls. But seriously, welcome. Any friend of Malia’s is welcome here.”

As she rushes back to handle whatever crisis, Malia turns to introduce me to a young woman arranging pastries in a display case.

“And that’s Sophia,” she says, voice dropping slightly. “She was… well, she has her own history with Malfor.”

Something in Malia’s tone makes me look more closely at the woman. Sophia glances up, and our eyes meet. We share an instant of recognition—not of each other, but of the shadows we both carry.

“Hi. Malia’s said a lot of nice things about you. Nice to meet you.” She offers a small smile before returning to her work.

“And over there—” Malia points to a striking woman with long auburn hair pulled into a messy bun, efficiently working the remaining functional espresso machine, “—that’s Rebel. Another twice-rescued woman, like you.”

I blink in surprise. “Twice?”

“Long story,” Malia says. “One she should tell you herself sometime. But, just so you know, Rebel is with Ethan. Mia, who you haven’t met yet but should, is with Rigel. Sophia is with Blake. Jenna’s with his twin, Carter. Of course, I’ve got Walt, and now you have Hank and Gabe. We need to make things official.”

“Official?”

“Yeah, like…” Malia grins, eyes lighting up. “A name. For us. The women who survived falling for the men of Charlie team.”

I laugh. “Survived?”

“Barely,” she smirks. “We need something badass. Something that says we’re not just arm candy—we’re in the trenches, too. Emotionally, at least.”

I raise a brow. “You’ve clearly been thinking about this.”

“Damn right.” She taps her chin, then snaps her fingers. “Charlie’s Angels.”

I blink. “Isn’t that already taken?”

“Yeah, but it fits, doesn’t it? We’ve got beauty, brains, and a whole lot of badass. Plus, it’ll drive the guys crazy.”

I grin, already loving it. “Charlie’s Angels, huh? ”

Malia winks. “Damn right. Welcome to the team.”

“Malia, this place is amazing.” Looking between these women—Jenna, Sophia, Rebel, Malia—I feel an unexpected connection forming. We’re bound by trauma in a way no one else could understand, survivors of the same monster, even if our experiences differ.

“Amazing and chaotic. We’re short-staffed this week,” Malia adds with a sigh. “Sophia’s training with Blake most days, and we’re still trying to hire another person, but let me show you my brews.”

“Your brews?”

“My specialty coffee concoctions. I’ve created signature drinks for all the Guardian teams,” Malia explains proudly, gesturing to the artful chalkboard above the counter. “Each one matches the team’s personality.”

I scan the menu, noting drinks with names like “Alpha Ambition,” “Bravo Boldness,” and “Charlie Challenge.”

“The Alpha Ambition is a double-shot espresso with caramel and a hint of cardamom,” she explains. “Strong, reliable, with just enough sophistication to keep it interesting.” She winks.

“And Bravo?” I ask, caught up in her enthusiasm.

“Vanilla latte with lavender and honey. Smooth, approachable, but complex underneath.” She grins. “Sometimes the sweetest things have hidden depths.”

“Let me guess,” I say, eyeing the board. “The Charlie Challenge is dark and dangerous?”

“Dark chocolate mocha with ghost pepper and sea salt,” she confirms with a mischievous smile. “Smooth at first, then hits you with an unexpected kick. Just like the team.”

“That tracks,” I murmur, thinking of the team’s performance in the gym.

“Yeah, they do that unexpected kick thing well.” Malia bumps her shoulder against mine conspiratorially and leans in closer. “Speaking of unexpected…” She glances toward Hank and Gabe, then back to me. “Are those two as dominant as they look? Because from the way they’re watching you… ” She fans herself dramatically. “I bet they’re hot in bed? All that control an d intensity.”

My cheeks burn instantly, but I can’t help the small smile that forms on my lips.

Malia’s eyes widen. “Oh my God, they are.” She squeezes my arm. “Super hot. I can’t even imagine how you handle two men like that.”

“Malia!” I glance around to make sure no one hears her.

She grins, completely unrepentant. “What? We’ve been through hell together. I think we’re past being shy.”

“I don’t handle them,” I admit quietly, surprising myself with my candor. “They handle me.”

Malia whoops so loudly that several heads turn our way. “I knew it!” Her eyes are bright with excitement. “Oh my God, you’ve got to spill the tea. What’s it like with all that muscle wrapped around you? Malia’s eyes gleam with mischief. “Are they kinky? Because that would be the ultimate cherry on top.”

“I am not answering that.” Heat rushes to my cheeks, and I look away, suddenly fascinated by a crack in the floor tile.

Her gasp is theatrical, but the death grip on my arm is very real. “Oh my God—you don’t have to. That says everything.”

“Malia—”

“Nope. Too late. I knew it. I knew they’d be the type. You’ve got to spill. Everything.”

I shake my head, but the grin tugging at my lips gives me away.

Her eyes narrow in triumph. “You lucky bitch.”

I glance over at Hank and Gabe, who are in line watching us with raised eyebrows. Gabe’s expression is especially knowing, as if he can guess exactly what we’re discussing.

“Keep your voice down,” I whisper, feeling my face heat up again. “It’s not like that. Well, not always like that.”

Malia’s grin widens impossibly further. “Which one’s more dominant? Gabe looks like he’d be intense, but Hank has that quiet authority thing going on.”

“I am not having this conversation in the middle of a coffee shop,” I say, but I can’t help the small laugh that escapes me.

It feels good to have a girlfriend to talk to about this, even if Malia is as subtle as a freight train .

“Fine, fine. But we’re definitely finishing this later,” she says, wagging a finger at me. “With wine. Lots of wine.”

“So, what brings you to my humble establishment?” Malia asks, glancing between me and my two companions. “Besides the obvious caffeine desperation.”

“Looking for Mitzy, actually,” I explain. “Skye said she might be here.”

“Usually is, but not today. Some security system glitch has her holed up in her lair,” Malia replies. “I can text her if it’s urgent?”

“It can wait,” I decide. “I just need to talk to her.”

“Oh! I haven’t finished showing you everything.” She points to another drink on the board, shifting back to barista mode but with a conspiratorial wink. “Delta Determination—cold brew with orange zest and brown sugar. No nonsense, gets the job done.” She leans closer again. “Echo Enigma is my personal favorite, though—white chocolate and blackberry with a hint of rosemary. Unexpected combination, but it works.”

I furrow my brow. “Echo? There’s no Echo team, is there?”

She glances around quickly to make sure no one is listening. She leans in even closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

“Well, not yet. But there are whispers that Forest is creating something called ‘Guardian Angels’—an all-female undercover operative team.” Her words tumble out in an excited rush. “Top secret. Super elite. They’ll work deep cover missions that the regular teams can’t touch.”

“Are you serious?” I ask, caught between skepticism and intrigue.

“Deadly.” She nods emphatically. “I’ve overheard things. The men don’t always notice me when they’re grabbing coffee, and I’ve got good ears.” She taps the side of her head. “They’re selecting candidates now. Women with very specific skill sets.” Her eyes sparkle with excitement. “Can you imagine? It’s about time they utilized female operatives properly.”

Her energy is a whirlwind, pulling me into her orbit as she moves from one creation to the next.

“I’ve been experimenting with some new blends, too,” she continues, opening jars of coffee beans for me to smell. “This Ethiopian Yirgacheffe has notes of blueberry and chocolate. And the Indonesian Sumatra? Earthy, spicy, with incredible body.”

From the line, Hank says something that makes Gabe’s attention shift, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

Malia lowers her voice conspiratorially as she begins making a drink. “ Dayum ! Those two—” she nods toward Hank and Gabe, “—have barely taken their eyes off you. Talk about heat…”

I lower my voice, feeling heat rise to my cheeks at Malia’s insinuation as she prepares drinks beside me. “We’re not talking about them—at least not here.” I lower my voice and whisper the last part.

The line moves fast, and Hank and Gabe approach the counter to order.

Hank orders first. “I’ll take a double Americano, extra shot.”

“Quad vanilla latte, half-sweet, oat milk,” Gabe adds.

Malia rolls her eyes. “Of course, you would have the complicated order,” she tells Gabe. “Ally?”

“Just regular coffee,” I say, feeling overwhelmed by the options. “Black is fine.”

“Black coffee coming up for the woman of simple tastes who keeps complicated company,” Malia teases, backing toward the counter. “Find a table if you can—I’ll bring these over when they’re ready.”

Hank and Gabe leave us alone, navigating through the crowd, eventually finding a small table tucked in a corner near a window. It’s slightly removed from the chaos but offers a view of the entire shop. Hank automatically sits facing the door while Gabe positions himself to watch the broken espresso machine and its technician.

The coffee shop door swings open with a jingle, and a whirlwind of color and energy bursts in.

“Ally! THERE you are!” A woman approaches with psychedelic hair, studying me with keen interest.

“Who’s that?” I ask Malia.

“Mitzy.” Malia winks. “You’re going to love her.”