He nods, understanding in his eyes. "Get your boots on. We've got a lot of ground to cover."
The next fewhours blur together as Finn takes me on a comprehensive tour of his property. Twenty acres of mountain and forest, all of it secured with a system so sophisticated it makes my Hollywood security look like child's play.
He shows me the emergency bunker built into the hillside, stocked with enough supplies to last months. The hidden caches of weapons and emergency kits scattered throughout the property. The tunnels that lead from the basement to exit points a quarter mile from the cabin in three different directions.
"You built all this?" I ask as we emerge from one of the tunnels, blinking in the sudden sunlight.
"Most of it. My brothers helped with the heavy lifting."
"This is..." I struggle to find the right word. "Extensive."
"I like to be prepared."
"For what? Nuclear winter?"
He shrugs. "You never know."
"Is this normal for ex CIA operatives? This level of preparation?"
"The ones who live long enough to retire? Yes."
There's something in his tone that makes me think there's more to the story. More to why he needs this fortress in the mountains, why he's prepared for every contingency, why he lives alone with enough security to protect a small country.
"What happened, Finn?" I ask quietly. "What made you like this?"
He stops walking, turning to face me with eyes that have gone hard as granite. "Like what?"
"Ready for war in the middle of peace."
For a moment, I think he's going to shut me down completely. But then something shifts in his expression, a hairline crack in the armor he wears so completely.
"I made mistakes," he says finally. "In the field. People died who shouldn't have."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. It was a long time ago."
But the way he says it tells me it wasn't nearly long enough ago. That the ghosts of those mistakes still walk with him, still wake him in the night, still drive him to build fortresses against enemies both real and remembered.
"Is that why you took my case?" I ask. "Redemption?"
His eyes narrow. "I took your case because Frank asked me to and the money was good."
"Just business then."
"Just business."
But we both know it's a lie. I saw his face when he found me in that house, when he realized how close my stalker had come. I saw the fury in his eyes, the protectiveness that went beyond professional obligation.
I wonder what he'd do if I called him on it. If I stepped closer and told him I see through the walls he's built. If I admitted that something about him pulls at me in ways I can't explain and don't want to resist.
But before I can find the courage, he turns and continues walking, pointing out security features and escape routes with renewed professional detachment.
The moment, whatever it was, has passed.
We spend the rest of the morning completing our tour of the property, Finn in full security expert mode, me trying to absorb all the information while pretending I'm not hyperaware of his every movement, his every expression, and the way his hand occasionally touches the small of my back to guide me along a narrow trail.
By the time we return to the cabin, the sun is high overhead and my head is spinning with security protocols and emergency procedures.
