Gideon Montgomery had only ever looked giddy twice in all the years Sam had known him. Once when a school field trip had taken them aboard a Vietnam-era submarine, and tonight, when Sam introduced him to Mia Davalos.

“What a lovely name.” Gideon wrapped his giant hands around Mia’s petite fingers. “I can only imagine you are equally as lovely, Miss Davalos.”

Mia laughed, her voice like clear bells ringing. “Thank you, Mr. Montgomery.”

“Gideon, please.” The old man beamed. “All my young lady friends call me Gideon.”

“Holy crap, Gideon, would you stop?” Sam rolled his eyes. “When did you turn into such a flirt?”

Gideon held one of Mia’s hands and poked Sam in the chest. “There’s flirting, and there’s telling a young lady what she’s worth. Besides, a man don’t know how to talk proper to a lady until he passes eighty. So you’ve got several decades to go before you can even talk to me, boy.”

Mia blushed with a laugh.

Sam growled and looked away as Dr. Davalos accepted Gideon’s hand for a shake.

“I can’t say we were expecting to meet any of Sam’s family while we were here in DC,” Dr. Davalos said with a sideways glance at Sam.

“Well, and why should you?” Gideon snorted with a laugh. “The boy probably hasn’t said squat about family.”

“That is correct.” Dr. Davalos pinned Sam with a more forceful glare, and Sam crossed his arms with a huff.

“Grandpa.” Mia warned softly, under her breath. “Sorry, Gideon. My grandpa adopted several young men from around the country, and we’ve tried not to push them for their backgrounds.”

“Well that’s noble of you.” Gideon finished shaking Dr. Davalos’s hand and enclosed Mia’s hand in his palms again. “Sam won’t tell you anyway. Getting him to talk when he doesn’t want to is tougher than boots.”

Mia pursed her lips with a pointed look at Sam. “No kidding.”

Sam grunted. “Great, well you’ve met each other now. Gideon, shouldn’t you be getting home? It’s past your bed time.”

Mia pulled her hand out of Gideon’s and took his elbow. “Oh, I think he should stay as long as he wants to.”

“Thank you, Miss Davalos.”

“You’re welcome, Gideon.” Mia helped him sit down. “I’d love to hear more about you.”

And about me. Sam winced.

“Oh, there’s not much to say about me.” Gideon adjusted himself in the chair and patted the chair beside him for Mia to sit too. “I met Sam when he was a little boy, and I was working over at Gallaudet University.”

“Gallaudet?” Dr. Davalos narrowed his eyes with a glance at Sam.

Sam ignored it.

“Before I lost my vision,” Gideon tapped the side of his face, “I did some contracting work for them in the utilities. Plumbing mainly.”

“And how did you and Sam meet?”

“Oh, I met his mama at Gallaudet,” Gideon said. “Ms. Irene. She taught there.”

“At Gallaudet?” Mia gazed up at Sam.

Sam looked away.

“Yeah, his mama taught one of the most popular classes at Gallaudet.” Gideon nodded. “We were good friends, me and Ms. Irene. And when she—when she passed, she asked me to take care of young Sam. So I did.”

Mia’s expression softened.

Sam flared his nostrils. “Drinks?” He turned and walked away. “I need one.”

How could Gideon do this to him? Sure, coming all the way to the hotel to award him a fancy plaque was nice, but Gideon knew how much Sam hated to talk about the past. Was Gideon seriously going to sit at the table and spill all the juicy details of Sam’s life as a child to his boss?

Go ahead, Gideon. Tell them everything. The time in high school marching band when Sam lost control of his trombone’s slide and took out a clarinet player. The time in elementary school when Sam climbed a tree and couldn’t get down without the fire department’s ladder. The day Sam realized his mother couldn’t hear.

His stomach clenched, and he swiped a glass of tea from the bar and sniffed it. No alcohol. He downed it in two gulps.

His mother.

Her brown hair. Her blue eyes. Her sweet voice, dulled at the edges by her lack of hearing. Her smile that could light up a room. Her slender fingers teaching him the signs for the alphabet, for his favorite foods, for his namesign.

Sam signaled the bartender for another glass of tea and drank it just as quickly as the first. He didn’t drink, but he might start. The night wasn’t going the way he’d planned, and if he didn’t do something about it, Mia was going to learn more about him than he wanted her to.

“Dr. Logan?”

Sam steadied himself, set the glass down, and turned to face a woman with shoulder-length red hair. Her bright blue eyes smiled at him, and he accepted her hand to shake.

“Hi.”

“My name is Gayle Walker,” the woman said, digging for a business card. “I really enjoyed your talk.”

“Thanks.” Great. Business cards.

“I wonder if you would be free for a conversation tomorrow?” The woman held out her card, and Sam accepted it without looking. “There’s a specific topic I’m needing to address with you.”

“If you’re interested in archeology, you might do better to speak to Dr. Robert Davalos.” Sam jerked his head over his shoulder to where the Doc and Gideon were laughing about something. “Or his granddaughter, Mia Davalos.”

“No, Dr. Logan.” The woman’s smile seemed cryptic. “It really needs to be you. It’s not about archeology.”

“Not about archeology?” Sam cocked an eyebrow. “Okay.”

“It’s about—”

“Dr. Logan.” Provost Morrow appeared at his elbow with a dazzling grin. “Oh, I’m so sorry, ma’am.” He took the woman’s hand and shook it. “I’m afraid I have to take Dr. Logan away from you for a moment. Please excuse us.”

“Provost Morrow.” Gayle Walker narrowed her eyes at him.

“Excuse us.” Morrow grabbed Sam’s arm and escorted him to the other side of the room. “Dr. Logan, I need to talk to you about something that simply can’t wait.”

“Funny.” Sam pulled his arm out of Morrow’s hold. “So does Gayle Walker.”

“Oh, don’t worry about her. She’s with one of the smaller agencies. Not important.” Morrow beckoned to one of the servers who hurried to his side. “Scotch on the rocks. Dr. Logan, what are you drinking?”

Sam frowned. “Iced tea.”

Morrow blinked at him. “Just tea?”

“I don’t drink.”

Morrow nodded with another smile. “A man of convictions. I admire that.” He looked at the server. “Just tea for Dr. Logan then.”

The server bustled away.

“Your presentation was flawless, Dr. Logan.” Morrow beamed. “I can’t even fathom the amount of research you had to do to get that level of detail in your findings.”

“You just have to know where to look, sir.”

“You’re very good at what you do.”

Sam shrugged. “I work hard.”

“Precisely.” Morrow took his arm and steered him closer to the corner. “Your work within the local San Francisco community has been inspiring as well.”

“Thank you.”

Sam glanced back at Mia, who was leaning close to Gideon with a bright smile on her face. The community outreach program he’d designed at the Davalos Institute had truly been Mia’s brainchild. If he were being honest, teaching hordes of sticky children about Asian history and artifacts was the last thing he wanted to do, but Mia felt it was important. True, he’d done all the work. But he’d done it for her.

At least he got an award out of the deal. He would have preferred her, rather than the award, but that ship had already sailed apparently.

“That’s why we would like to offer you a position here.”

Sam yanked his gaze back to Morrow with a start. “You what?”

“Here. At the Smithsonian.” Morrow beamed. “You’re impressive, Dr. Logan. Sam. Can I call you Sam?”

“Uh. Sure.”

“This is why I wanted you to meet Dr. Tanaka.” Morrow waved at the server who had returned with their drinks. “She has a position open at MCI that I think would be ideal for your specific skill set.”

Sam’s mouth was dry. He gulped down the tea as the server handed it to him.

Me? Work at the Smithsonian? He finished the tea. Well, why not? I could do it. Of course, I could do it.

He glanced back at Mia.

And it’s not like I’ve got any reason to stay in San Francisco.

For an instant, the weight of the menuki charm in his suit coat pocket felt like it doubled in size. The white thunderbird charm gave him access to Hinode, his samurai armor. Korin Sado had given it to him ten years ago and set him on the path to joining the Reishosan in San Francisco.

And where did it get me?

Maybe the Doc had paid for his school and his college. Maybe he’d had a comfortable place to live and food to eat. But what good had San Francisco actually done him? Dr. Davalos had no other ambition but to remain a local institute, granting funding to dig sites and showing off specific items with historical significance.

At the Smithsonian, Sam could actually accomplish something worthwhile.

It wasn’t exactly like the Reishosan needed him either. They had Ryan who would pander to their weaknesses and make them feel like they belonged.

He didn’t need anyone. He never had.

“I realize you need some time think about it.” Morrow patted his arm. “Let’s meet up again tomorrow. Maybe at Air and Space?”

“Sure.” Sam nodded.

“Yes, yes. I realize Dr. Davalos has been good to you, and I’m sure your loss would gut him.” Morrow shook his head sadly and drained his glass of Scotch. “But you’ve got a bright future ahead of you, young man, and that future is at the Smithsonian.”

Morrow bid him farewell and wove his way through the crowds to talk to someone else at the other side of the room. Sam stayed in place and watched Mia and the Doc as they talked with Gideon like old friends.

In a few months, Mia would finalize her relationship with Ryan. She was going to marry him. That was her choice. She could do what she wanted, even if it was stupid and an obvious mistake.

You didn’t stay in San Francisco just for Mia. His mind told him.

That was true. He’d hoped to find a greater purpose for himself in San Francisco. At first, he’d thought it might be Mia, but all he’d found at the Davalos Institute was evidence that what he’d always known about himself was true: He was better than the others.

He was the best swordsman, the smartest fighter, and the most dangerous threat to Thallia’s impending invasion. Ronnie had some skill, but he was too anti-social and afraid of people to do much good. Ryan was mostly useless and barely knew which end of a sword to hold. Stan was capable but melted like ice cream when somebody raised their voice at him. And Karl was worthless.

None them could compare to him.

He’d stayed because he’d tried to help them understand that. But they wouldn’t.

So why am I still staying? He set his hand over the charm in his pocket. Maybe it’s time for me to move on. There never was anything for me in San Francisco.

He had ambitions. He had dreams, even if none of the rest of them did.

I should go while I can. He clenched his jaw and let his hand fall away from his pocket. The longer this goes on, the less time we have.

Truth be told, he didn’t know how long the Terran Dimension had left.

The Reishosan could fight and fight valiantly, but there was no point in denying that they didn’t stand a chance. They could barely handle Jinsoku, Thallia’s warlord, and if they had struggled so much against one warlord, what would happen against more? What would happen against Thallia himself?

No. The battle for Terran wasn’t one that they could win. Thallia was coming, and he would take over. It was just a matter of time.

So why not pursue a dream while he could? Why not leave Karl and Stan and Ronnie to flail uselessly after Ryan with his feelings and his softness? Why not strike out on his own?

Sam set his empty glass down and straightened his tie. First things first, he had to rescue his reputation from Gideon’s clumsy fingers. He could decide what to do about Morrow’s offer after that.

But one thing was certain in his mind, reinforced after nearly a decade of evidence: Being alone was easier. It always had been.