The temperature had risen considerably since she’d left, or it felt as if it had. The humidity took a bit of getting used to after being in SoCal for a couple of years. She had just enough time to drop the books off at the B & B and freshen up. Bree was glad she’d opted to go light on the foundation that morning, requiring only a brief touch-up with some translucent powder and a swipe of gloss.
Bree punched the address into her navigation app and committed the route to memory, just in case she lost cell reception again.
The drive was gorgeous. The convertible handled the winding roads with ease, the powerful engine undeterred by the incline.
She found the entrance to Sanctuary easily enough, and once she turned off the road, the view got even better. The long drive resembled a natural tunnel of sorts with the branches of large trees reaching across to each other and forming a canopy. Shafts of sunlight broke through in places, making her think of enchanted forests. She wondered what it would look like in other seasons, ablaze with color or frosted with glistening snow.
The drive opened up to reveal the imposing building she’d seen on the website. As beautiful as those photos were, they didn’t do the place justice. She parked and took a moment to admire the stonework and the old-fashioned carriage lamps. Nothing about it suggested a facility for veterans.
“Miss De Rossi?”
The deep male voice startled her. The man who spoke, even more so. Tall and broad with shaggy chestnut-colored hair framing an angled, masculine face. Authority radiated from him in waves, as did a powerful military vibe.
“Yes, that’s me. And you are?”
“Matt Winston. Welcome to Sanctuary.”
Winston. The name rang a bell. She was certain she’d seen it in some of the books she’d skimmed, but she couldn’t remember exactly where.
“Thank you, Mr. Winston.”
“Please, come in.” His smile, like his demeanor, was polite but not what she would call friendly.
Her initial assessment: the man was powerful, deadly, and not particularly pleased with her presence. She could see where some people would be intimidated by him.
She straightened her shoulders and followed him inside. Topical chitchat wouldn’t work with him, so she kept her mouth closed and her eyes open, silently noting the decor and the general feel of the place. Simple and clean with an understated elegance, it was less garish than she would have guessed, based on the exterior.
His office was neat and sparsely furnished, an eclectic mix of old and new. The large desk was definitely a working antique, looking as if it had been used for multiple generations. The ergonomic chair behind it and the sleek black tech on top were far more recent.
Winston took a seat behind the desk and indicated she take one of the two chairs in front of it.
“You’ve come a long way, Miss De Rossi.”
“I go where I’m assigned, Mr. Winston. As a military man, I’m sure you can understand that.”
“That I can. What is it you hope to accomplish here?”
Right to the point. Straightforward. She liked that even if it did take some getting used to. “I’d like to learn more about Sanctuary.”
“Why?”
If he was going to be blunt, then so would she. “Because it sounds like you’re doing a good thing here, and people need to hear about good things these days.”
Soulful golden-brown eyes stared at her intently. “If it’s just the program you’re interested in, we could have provided you with materials. You didn’t need to fly across the country for that.”
“How did you know I flew cross-country?”
“Educated guess. That’s where your office is, isn’t it?”
His expression remained neutral; his voice conversational. Yet a tingle ran down the length of Bree’s spine.
“You’ve done some research, I see.”
A small smile ghosted over his lips. Bree added the adjectives intelligent, guarded, and protective to her mental notes on Matt Winston.
He pushed a legal-sized manila envelope forward with two fingers across the desk. A brief check confirmed it held the materials he’d referred to, basically the same information she’d found online in paper format—mission statement, overview of the program, et cetera.
“Some things can’t be accurately conveyed by words on paper. At its core, Sanctuary is about helping people—people who’ve made it a priority to serve and protect the citizens of this country. That’s what I’m here for, Mr. Winston. The human angle. The emotional aspect.”
His brows creased slightly; the hint of a frown tugged at the corners of his lips. “Be that as it may, we respect and protect the privacy of those who come to us, Miss De Rossi. I can offer you a private tour with one of our senior staff, but I must ask that you refrain from taking pictures of our residents or include any personally identifying information in your article.”
No pictures? That was disappointing, but she had a feeling if she didn’t agree to his terms, she wouldn’t get anything more, and she needed more than that to take back to Charlie. Besides, there was a lot more to Sanctuary than what was contained in that information packet. She could feel it.
“Fair enough.”
Winston stood, clearly signaling the end of their meeting. His eyes flicked to the door behind her. “Cage will provide you with whatever you might need.”
Bree stood as well. “Cage?”
“That would be me.”
Chapter Ten
Cage
The look on her face was priceless. The way her eyes lit up at the sight of him, even better.
“You! Third time’s a charm, right?” she said, echoing his words from the previous evening.
Her lips curled into a slow, easy smile that he felt in his chest.
“Right. Shall we start with a tour, Miss De Rossi?”
“Bree, please. And sure.”
He stood back and swept his arm in an after you gesture, sharing a glance with Church as she passed. He nodded, accepting Church’s silent command. The residents had already been warned, so as long as Cage stuck to the plan, everything would go smoothly.
She removed a small leather notebook—the same one he’d seen the night before—and a pen. “Mind if I take notes?”
“Not at all.” He wondered if Church had given her a no-tech rule or if she used one all the time. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask along with a desire to show her the slick device he had in his pocket, which allowed him to record audio, video, and translate text to speech. He decided against it. His task was to show her around, not try to impress her with tech only another geek could fully appreciate.
“So, Cage, huh?” she asked with the hint of a smile. “Is that your first name or last?”
“Neither. My name is Nick.”
“Ah, Cage is a nickname. Why?”
He grinned. “I could tell you, but ...”
“Then you’d have to kill me?” she finished wryly.
“No. It would ruin the mystery.”
She laughed, as he’d hoped. “Do you have a preference? Nick or Cage?”
“Either is fine.”
She looked every bit as pretty as she had the first two times he saw her, but it was her self-confidence that he found particularly attractive. Whether stranded along the side of the road, eating dinner alone, or touring a facility owned and operated by former Navy SEALs, her attitude suggested she had everything under control.