Page 5 of Rogue Hope (Hope Landing: New Recruits #4)

Finn sat alone in a corner booth at the Timberline Diner, absently rotating the icy soda glass between his palms. Outside the window, twilight settled over Hope Landing’s main street, where locals bustled about making final preparations for tomorrow’s parade.

Inside, the diner hummed with conversation and laughter, families and friends sharing meals and stories in the warm, golden light.

The contrast between their camaraderie and his isolation wasn’t lost on him.

His right thumb unconsciously found the small wooden cross hanging from a leather cord around his neck, hidden beneath his shirt.

A habit formed over the past five years, especially when wrestling with difficult decisions.

The simple cross had been a gift from the hospital chaplain who’d sat with him through a fever-wracked night in a Bangkok clinic, when sepsis from a knife wound had nearly accomplished what the CIA extraction team couldn’t two years earlier.

“The Lord’s not finished with you yet, son,” the aging missionary had told him when Finn regained consciousness three days later.

That night had marked the beginning of his faith journey—a conversion that still felt raw and unfinished most days. How different his life might have been if he’d found faith sooner. Before Cipher had manipulated him into becoming the perfect operative. Before Paris. Before Zara.

Before he’d destroyed any future they might have had together.

He’d chosen this spot strategically—back to the wall, clear sightline to both the entrance and the kitchen exit, partially obscured by a large fern.

Old habits. Seven years of operating in the shadows had ingrained certain precautions that he couldn’t shake even in this seemingly idyllic mountain town.

His bruised eye had drawn a few curious glances when he’d first entered, but the dinner rush had quickly diverted attention elsewhere. Small mercies.

He pulled out his notebook, pretending to review notes while mentally recalling every detail of the restaurant with perfect clarity: thirty-seven patrons, four staff members visible, two security cameras (one functional, one dummy), eight possible exit routes including the ceiling vent in the men’s restroom.

His photographic memory had always been both gift and curse—endless mental snapshots filed away with perfect recall, accessible in an instant.

The CIA had valued this ability almost as much as they’d resented it; a human who never forgot anything was both an asset and liability.

He mentally cycled through surveillance options.

Knight Tactical’s headquarters, according to his research, was a state-of-the-art facility with comprehensive security systems—many likely designed by Zara herself.

He’d memorized the building schematics, security patrol schedules, and network specifications from a single viewing.

Still, direct observation there would be nearly impossible without detection.

Her apartment presented similar challenges. Located in a renovated historic building on Third Street, it offered limited vantage points and a security system that would undoubtedly flag any suspicious activity.

The parade, then, seemed his best opportunity. Public gatherings provided natural cover, allowing him to blend with the crowd while maintaining visual contact. But they also created unpredictable variables and limited his ability to intervene if a threat materialized.

He frowned, tapping his pen against the notebook. Each scenario he constructed contained fatal flaws. Too close, and he risked Zara recognizing him. Too distant, and he couldn’t provide effective protection if Cipher made a move against her.

And he was certain Cipher would make a move. The criminal mastermind hadn’t devoted resources to tracking and attacking Finn for casual reasons. Something significant had changed in their seven-year chess match, something that made eliminating him a priority.

The only question was whether Zara had been similarly targeted.

After Paris, he’d kept tabs on her. Whether by choice or CIA orders, she’d joined up with Ronan Quinn’s SEAL team as agency liaison.

Clearly, the relationship had stuck because she’d eventually left the CIA to join her team in the private security world.

She’d found a family. Good for her.

“You look like you could use this more than the guy who ordered it.”

Finn glanced up to find a waitress placing a generous slice of cherry pie before him. She was athletic, her tanned forearms suggesting someone who spent considerable time outdoors, with friendly eyes and an easy smile.

“I didn’t order dessert,” he said, voice raspy from disuse.

“On the house.” She nodded toward his face. “That’s quite a shiner you’ve got there. Climbing accident?”

Finn hesitated, then seized the offered cover story. “Yeah. Took a whipper off Crystal Crag yesterday. My belayer caught me, but not before I kissed the rock face.”

The lie came easily, bolstered by the detailed research he’d done on local climbing spots. Hope Landing was a haven for outdoor enthusiasts, making the story both plausible and difficult to disprove.

“Ouch.” She winced sympathetically. “Ribs too, I’m guessing, from the way you’re holding yourself.”

Finn nodded, surprised by her perceptiveness. “Bruised, not broken.”

“I’m Kate, by the way. Local climbing guide when I’m not slinging pie.” She extended her hand, which Finn shook briefly. “First time in Hope Landing?”

“That obvious?”

“Small town. We notice new faces.” She refilled his coffee without being asked. “Especially ones attached to bodies that look like they’ve been through a rock tumbler.”

Despite himself, Finn smiled. It had been a long time since he’d engaged in casual conversation with someone who wasn’t a contact or an asset or a mark. Longer still since that conversation had included genuine humor.

“The pie’s amazing,” he said after taking a bite, the tart-sweet flavor a surprising comfort. “Thank you.”

Kate leaned against the booth. “So, what brings you to our little mountain paradise? Besides testing gravity on our climbing routes?”

“Just passing through. Needed some quiet after a rough stretch.”

She nodded as if this made perfect sense. “Well, your timing’s either perfect or terrible, depending on how you feel about small-town fun. Tomorrow’s parade is the highlight of summer around here.”

“I noticed.” Finn gestured toward the window, where volunteers were stringing lights across Main Street. “Seems like a big production.”

Her expression brightened. “You should check it out. It runs right past the diner. Great view from our outdoor tables.”

“I might do that.”

“I’m working the morning shift,” she added, a hint of invitation in her voice. “If you want company, I get a break around eleven.”

The offer hung between them, unexpected and tempting in its normalcy. For a moment, Finn allowed himself to imagine accepting—sitting in the sunshine, watching a small-town parade with a pretty local, pretending to be just another tourist enjoying a holiday weekend.

The fantasy dissolved. Getting close to anyone right now would only create potential casualties.

“I appreciate the offer,” he said, genuine regret coloring his tone. “But I’m heading out after this.”

Something in his expression must have communicated more than his words, because Kate simply nodded, her smile understanding rather than disappointed. “Well, enjoy the pie. And maybe go easy on the cliff faces for a while.”

After she moved on to other tables, Finn finished the pie slowly, savoring each bite. Small pleasures were rare in his life—all the more reason to appreciate them when they appeared.

He paid his bill in cash, leaving a generous tip, and stepped outside into the gathering darkness.

Main Street had transformed while he’d been inside.

Colorful banners now stretched between lampposts, and strings of lights cast a warm glow over the historic buildings.

Teams of volunteers moved with purpose, setting up viewing areas and making final adjustments to the parade route.

Finn lingered in the shadows, watching from a distance.

A group of teenagers laughed as they decorated a pickup truck with streamers and balloons.

Nearby, a family worked together on what appeared to be a miniature Wild West town mounted on a trailer.

Their easy camaraderie sliced through him like a blade—sharp, precise, and surprisingly painful.

How long had it been since he’d belonged anywhere? Had he ever?

His childhood had been a study in transience, moving from foster home to foster home, never staying long enough to form attachments.

His exceptional intelligence had isolated him further, marking him as different, separate.

The CIA had recognized his talents early, recruiting him straight from college, but even there, he’d remained on the periphery, his skills too valuable to waste on team operations.

Then Cipher had found him, offering what seemed like purpose and recognition, manipulating his need for belonging. And he’d fallen for it completely, becoming the perfect tool—right until the moment he met Zara Khoury and discovered there were lines he couldn’t cross after all.

Too late, of course. By then, he’d already betrayed her, already set in motion events that would lead to his “death” and seven years of solitary existence dedicated to dismantling Cipher’s operations.

Seven years of hotel rooms and safe houses. Seven years without friends or family. Seven years where his only human connections were transactional and temporary.

Watching the people of Hope Landing prepare for their celebration, he felt the weight of that isolation settle more heavily on his shoulders.

What would it be like to live openly? To have people who expected your presence, who noticed your absence?

To build something lasting instead of constantly destroying and disappearing?

Not that he’d ever know.

He’d earned whatever punishment came his way.

The town square clock chimed nine, its resonant tones echoing off the surrounding buildings. He pulled his baseball cap lower and melted back into the shadows between buildings. Tomorrow, he’d observe the parade from a safe distance, verify Zara’s situation, and make a new plan.

If she was safe, he’d disappear, creating a false trail leading far from Hope Landing to ensure Cipher followed him instead of looking closer at Zara.

If she showed signs of being under surveillance or threat, he’d have to find a way to warn her without revealing himself—a considerably more complex challenge.

Either way, his presence here would be brief and unremarkable, leaving no trace behind. Just as he had done countless times before.

Just as he would likely do countless times again, until Cipher was neutralized or one of them was dead.

The cheerful sounds of the town preparing for celebration faded behind him as he disappeared into the quiet residential streets, a solitary shadow moving through the mountain night, carrying the weight of his past and the uncertainty of what tomorrow might bring.