Back home, they loaded everything into the fridge. James cooked a simple lunch—nothing fancy. They saved their appetite for dinner.
Carlos and Hannah came back early, excited. They closed the shop that afternoon and packed up. Their yacht rarely got used—but James figured that was about to change.
Family, food, and ocean breeze.
Sometimes, even spies and soldiers needed a break.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
James Gibson piloted the yacht out to sea while Carlos set up the fishing gear. Hannah was in the small galley packing ingredients, and Mindy had already run up beside James with Anny in her arms to watch him drive.
Clearly, she hadn't spent much time doing things like this. Everything around her felt new.
"Wanna try?" James asked, noticing her curious stare.
"Can I?" she asked, lighting up.
Noticing Mindy getting distracted, it gave Anny just the right opportunity to escape and tour the Yacht.
"Of course. Come sit here." He patted the chair. "I'll walk you through the basics. Just simple navigations for now—later if you want, we'll get into how to read sea charts and run boat diagnostics so we don't get stuck in the middle of the water."
Mindy forgetting about Anny's escape climbed up to the seat, and James began walking her through the controls. No pressure for her first time. Just enough to give her a taste of freedom on the water.
They spent the next hour goofing around, drifting along the coastline until Carlos waved them over to start fishing. James killed the engine and pulled Mindy back to the stern to teach her how to cast and reel. She picked it up fast like it's just her natural born talent.
Occasionally, Carlos catches some small fishes, creating funny banters and of course, Anny get's to have a bite of those small catches.
They didn't stay out too late though. Mindy had school in the morning.
The next day, James picked her up from Hannah's and drove her to class.
"Mindy, if anything's wrong, just call me. Today we're starting on your room renovation. Shouldn't take long before it's ready."
"Got it," she said, slinging her new backpack over one shoulder and heading for the gate.
James watched her walk in… then parked down the block and waited.
He knew the type of child she was.
Sure enough, ten minutes later, Mindy slipped back outside. A taxi pulled up. She climbed in and took off.
James then started the car and to pursue.
"Cortana, Call HQ. I need to track a taxi—plate XXXX."
[Copy that. Tracking now. Your phone will now display the live movements of the target.]
James opened the tracking overlay. A small red icon showed the cab's position. He followed from a distance—his car stood out too much to tail close in her line of sight.
The cab didn't go far. After about ten blocks, it stopped outside an apartment complex. Mindy stepped out and headed inside.
James circled around and parked. He approached the building but hit a locked security door.
Inside, a guard was watching. James knocked.
"You looking for someone?" the guard asked, stepping closer.
James flashed his ID. "Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. The girl who just entered—what's her apartment number?"
The guard's eyes narrowed. "Nice fake badge. A government agency is looking for a little girl? I'm not buying it. You need to leave before I call the police."
James suppressed a smirk. The guy was sharp. "Go ahead and call. Or I can call a full support team down here in five minutes."
"You serious?"
"If I wasn't, would I still be here? Look—she's my sister. My father adopted her recently. She ran out of school without telling anyone. I just want to talk to her."
The guard paused, considering the consequences.
"…Alright. I'll take you up."
They rode the elevator in silence.
"She lives here. Dad died recently. I didn't know she was adopted. She's cute kid."
"Thanks," James said. "Can we have a minute? Sometimes kids don't like to talk with an audience."
The guard nodded. "Sure. I'll wait outside. If she says you're her brother, I'm out of here."
James knocked.
When Mindy opened the door, her eyes widened in panic.
"Mindy," James said calmly, "tell the guard I'm your brother. Or he's going to make things complicated."
She blinked and spoke with nervousness. "…Yeah. He's my brother."
"Good. I'll give you two privacy," the guard said, backing off.
James stepped inside. The apartment was small, functional. The living room was converted to a training space. One door had a keypad lock. The rest though looked normal enough.
"Homesick?" James asked, sitting casually on the edge of a training bench.
"Yeah… a little," she muttered. Her fingers tugged awkwardly at the hem of her hoodie.
James raised an eyebrow. "We're family now. You could've just said something. Want to show me around?"
"Nothing to show," she mumbled. "There's barely anything here."
"Really? That living room says 'field prep station' to me. And that room with the keypad?" He pointed. "Want me to open it?"
"That was my dad's room," she said quickly. "He never gave me the code."
James walked over, pulled out a slim device, and scanned the panel. A green light flickered. He keyed in the result and the lock clicked open.
Mindy stood there, stunned. "You just—how did you do that?"
James shrugged as he gaved her a side eye. "Perks of the job."
Inside, the room was an armory. Pistols, blades, small-caliber rifles. Enough for an entire tactical team.
James let out a low whistle. "Impressive stash."
Mindy walked in behind him. "You're… not freaked out?"
He smiled, then casually slipped off his jacket. Underneath, two pistols were holstered—one Imanishi 17 with a carved wood grip, the other an ivory-handled Safari Matchmaster, engraved and polished.
"How's my kit compared?" he asked, amused.
Mindy stared at the weapons. "You're… serious?"
"Dead serious," James said. "And if you're going to keep sneaking out of school, you and I are going to have a long conversation about patrol routes and cover drills."