His giant schnauzers, Grant and Sherman, were overjoyed to see their alpha human—and the newest pack member.

Too tired to expend any effort, Nathan and Holly warmed up some frozen spaghetti. He broke the rule and gave Grant and Sherman a piece of bread from the dinner table.

They left the dishes in the sink, settled onto the library sofa, and enjoyed a comfortable silence petting the dogs. When they’d first met during the Bridgestone case, they’d taken a two hour ride into the Sierra Nevada Mountains. Holly had made a favorable impression on Nathan that day, being frank and honest and never needing to engage in small talk to fill voids in the conversation. Something he found refreshing. And rare. Nothing had changed about her since then. Well, not nothing. It pained him to see her walk with a cane. The bombing had aged her unfairly, made her look weak. Life can be so cruel to good people.

When he spoke, his voice was just above a whisper. “Have you ever wondered how different your life would be if, years ago, you’d made a single different choice?”

“You mean a career choice? Since the bombing of my field office, I’ve thought about it a lot.”

“Are you where you want to be?”

“Yes. Are you?”

“The pivotal choice in my life was joining the Marine Corps. It sounds clichéd, but I needed to be my own man.”

“Your father didn’t approve?”

“He never believed I was serious about the Corps as a career. But I was, Holly. I loved it. I enjoyed the structure and stability. The sense of family. I think I’m genetically predisposed to the military. When I look back on it, it was the first time in my life I’d been truly happy. I didn’t want to do anything else.”

“If you had it to do all over again, would you make the same choice?”

“That’s what I’ve been struggling with. My gut says yes. But what if, on my twenty-second birthday, I hadn’t walked into the recruiter’s office and applied for OCS? What if I’d never become a sniper? Not many officers become scout snipers. Would I’ve still been recruited by the CIA and become an operations officer? The answer scares me.”

“Why?”

“Because deep down, what I did for a living?” He put a hand on his chest. “It’s who I am.”

“Aren’t you being unfair to yourself? I mean, just because you—”

“Killed people? I had a job to do. We did, Harv and I. There’s no sugarcoating it. It’s what we did. And we were really good. We took pride in our missions, in getting the job done. But it’s hard to feel good about killing people. I’ve really struggled with it over the years. Harv too.”