Out of the Blue

by Kathryn Nolan

  She placed it on top of mine.

  The sight of them together in the moonlight—the understanding that she’d clung to this symbol with the same devotion—had me light-headed with hope.

  “It never felt real to me that we were only together for two years,” she said. “Just twenty-four months. All that we did together, all that we were to each other, seems like an epic and endless amount of time. Not fleeting or temporary. Maybe…” She bit her lip, inhaled a big breath. “Maybe that’s why I wasn’t surprised when I walked into that room and learned you were my bodyguard. Because it’s only ever been you, Cope.”

  I leaned in for another kiss. This one sweeter. Softer. But I knew this conversation couldn’t end here—like Serena had said, talking about our best memories wasn’t the same as true reconciliation.

  And being in love had never really been the problem.

  I cleared my throat and gathered my remaining shreds of courage. “I had a gun pointed at my head for forty-eight hours,” I said, voice rough. Her face shifted as she understood what I was sharing. “It was me, Jake the other guard, and Gary, the boss I thought was really nice but was actually super shitty. They kept us in that office with our hands tied behind our backs. No food or water.”

  She moved even closer, gripped my wrists.

  “There was a rotating cast of young, amateur kidnappers who hadn’t expected to take a hostage during their fumbled kidnapping attempt. Certainly not three. Although it was obvious from their body language that Jake and I were expendable in their eyes. Just bodies to dispose of if we got in the way or became a burden.” I smiled a little. “I wasn’t chatty or overly familiar. I made myself as small and quiet as possible. I didn’t want to be an aggravation or call attention to myself. It was the only way I could conceive of getting out of there alive. I kept my head down and dozed when I could and thought about you every second.”

  Her hand moved to cup my cheek.

  “I still can’t describe the heartbreak of believing I was never going to see you again. That I had gone to work on a Tuesday and would never hold you, kiss you, hear your laughter.” I cleared my throat. “Talking about it afterward wasn’t an option for me because it was like staring into a dark chasm. Joking about it, acting like everyone else was overreacting, was just easier.” Regret flooded through me. “As was making our problems at that time about your surfing career instead. All of it was easier for me than acceptance.”

  I turned my head and kissed her palm, breathing in the familiar smell of her skin.

  “Losing my father taught me a lot about mortality at a young age,” I said. “But I always thought his death was supposed to mean something, that the universe was telling me I had to spend the rest of my life protecting others, even if I was damaging my relationships. Even if it meant not trusting the woman that I loved to do the job she spent her whole life preparing for.”

  Her eyes filled with sympathy. “Cope—”

  I shook my head, needing to go on. “Suddenly, facing my own mortality, all of those hard-and-fast ideas were scrambled and knocked loose. Because if I had died that day, there would be no grander message other than the fact that I’d been the victim of a random and tragic accident.” Emotion rose in my chest. “Like my dad. Before, it was easier to hold tight to this role I thought I was meant to play. And not have to accept that his loss was, and still is, unfathomable. There is no larger context or symbol. He died in an accident, and it was the worst thing that has ever happened to me.”

  She was gently wiping at the few tears on my cheeks.

  “In the end, it was easier to argue than to listen to you. Easier to beg you to quit than accept your choices. Easier to leave than to work through a complicated knot of issues.”

  I didn’t expect Serena to kiss me, but she did. Wrapping her arms around my neck and pressing our bodies close.

  “Thank you for telling me,” she said. “Everything about you is good-hearted and noble and strong. I know your dad would be so proud of you. For all of it.” She kissed my forehead. “I don’t want to push you, ever again, to do something you’re not ready to do, okay? I trust you to tell me when it’s the right time.”

  “And I never want to go back to the way things were at the end,” I said. “Where we don’t listen to each other. Where we don’t hear each other.”

  “I can agree to all of that,” she said, smile tugging at her lips.

  We kissed again, and this one had the jagged edge of grief and the metallic taste of fear to it. Like those forty-eight hours when we both experienced our own nightmare, separated and believing we might never see each other again.

  I pulled back on a ragged breath and stared up at the gorgeous warrior who never ceased to amaze me. “I watched you surf today. I saw you. All of you. Serena, you are a work of art. You are elegance, you are magnificent. I’ve never been prouder of you, prouder to love you and to be loved by you.”

  Her eyes filled with unshed tears. “I was hoping you got to see. I wanted you to.” She paused. “I want you to feel comfortable sharing about your dad with me. And I want you to feel that you can be scared for me and that I won’t fight with you about it.” Her fingers gently played with my hair. “I know you trust me. I know you understand what I can do. But I won’t leave you out of any part of my training or safety preparations anymore. I want you to be in all the parts of my life, even the messy and scary parts.”

  “Do you mean that?” I whispered.

  “Every word.”

  “Good.” I kissed a clear path up her throat. “Because I meant all of it too.”

  The final threads of that knot in my chest broke apart, leaving nothing but dazzling love for the woman wrapped in my arms, surrounded by starlight and waves she could dance on.

  I asked the only question that mattered now.

  “Will you marry me again, Serena?”

  The beaming smile that lit up her face was more beautiful than the moon that hung above our heads. “Yes.”

  I felt for the rings next to me, holding them between us. “Will you be my wife again?”

  “Yes.” She sighed, kissing across my face. “And I never stopped being your wife because I never stopped loving you.”

  I slid the ring down her finger as the ocean crashed behind us. The sight of the gold band stole my breath away.

  “Will you be my husband again, Cope?” she whispered.

  I fisted my hands in her hair and stared deeply into her eyes. “Always, sunshine. Forever.”

  When she slid on the ring, I flexed my fingers and gazed at the gold in wonder, astonished at the power Serena held over my heart, my body, my mind.

  Everything in my life felt right again.

  Everything was finally whole.

  40

  Serena

  I kissed my ex-bodyguard and new husband with an ecstatic, joyful sigh, pouring our years of love and yearning into a moment I wanted to stay cocooned in forever.

  We had survived four years apart, two monster waves, and a powerful company hunting us down. And it didn’t feel physically possible for me to love another more than I loved this man.

  My hands gripped his face as he licked his tongue into my mouth, drinking me in. His fingers slid over mine, our new-old rings clicking together, and the sound sent me back to the morning after our Vegas wedding. Hoarse, dehydrated, and starving, we’d stayed in bed well past breakfast, watching the sunlight glint off the cheap bands we’d bought from the Elvis sisters.

  But we’d worn them with pride. And apparently had both kept them.

  Cope lifted my shirt off and removed my bra, letting the night air caress my bare skin. I was straddling him on the bench, hidden by the rocks as his mouth moved down my neck and across my collarbone. His palms roamed across every inch of my bare skin, up to cup my breasts.

  “Can we have a big wedding?” I asked, tilting my head back to give him more access.

  “I was just about to ask you the same thing.” His hot mouth descended on my ni
pples, pulling and licking. I reached past him to pull his shirt off, needing to feel those muscles flexing beneath me. He wrapped his arms tighter, lifting me until I was straddling right over his cock. Then he slid his hands inside my shorts, palming my ass, rocking me slowly against his body. I knew how sore we both were, and our movements were as intense as they were delicate, each caress dirty and tender and just right.

  “I want to wear a pretty white dress.” I sighed, smiling as he scraped his teeth along my neck.

  I kissed him again and enjoyed the sexy growl that came from his throat. “Perfect,” he said, mouth at my ear. “The first moment we’re alone that day I’ll have my hand between your legs so I can watch you come in it.”

  I shivered at the image he painted, and then that image was coming true. Together, we worked my shorts and underwear off, and then I was brazenly naked right here by the beach. It was illicit and sinfully forbidden. I loved it. As he kissed me until my head spun, those skilled fingers of his slid inside my sex, curling and stroking.

  “What else?” he asked, staring up at me as I rode his hand.

  “Dancing?”

  “All night and into the morning if you want,” he said.

  Whatever Cope was doing with his fingers was a kind of advanced magic. Sparks of ecstasy fluttered up from between my legs, filling my whole body.

  “Cake?” My nails scratched down his chest, twisting in his chest hair.

  His mouth teased across my nipples again, his tongue flicking until I cried out. He stroked deeper, reaching some place inside me that had my muscles shaking with pleasure.

  “We’ll have a cake for every guest,” he whispered. “Fifty cakes, a hundred cakes.”

  I kissed him. “Flowers?”

  “I’ll buy you every flower in this damn city, sunshine.”

  He slowly worked his fingers free from my body, but the look in his eye told me we were nowhere near done. He gripped the back of my neck with one hand and nipped my lip. Then he sucked his fingers into his mouth with a husky, satisfied groan. I crashed our mouths back together, tasting myself on his tongue, our movements growing frenzied.

  “I need to taste you, and I don’t care who sees.” We fell backward onto the bench, and then Cope’s strong hands were around my waist, dragging me up his chest to sit on his face.

  “Oh.” I sighed, shocked at the new sensation of his tongue licking between my folds. My hands found the rocks above us, and I held on tight as I rode his mouth as decadently as I pleased. When I looked down, his blue eyes watched me with a possession that set my skin on fire.

  But it was a fire without the agony of the past few days, of wondering if we could embrace our love without hurting each other again. Here was my confident and sexy husband, on his back for me to enjoy, giving me the pleasure he knew I desired.

  His fingers held my hips still so he could circle his tongue around my clit, and I gasped so loudly I was grateful for those waves behind us, covering up the sounds I couldn’t suppress. I’d been close before this moment, and now Cope had me balanced on a razor’s edge, working his tongue as I rolled my hips, encouraging him to never stop.

  “I’m prepared to give you everything,” I said, the words coming out on a long moan. His fingers tightened on my skin. “All of me… yes, like that…” I moved my hips faster, keeping steady on the rocks, and Cope flattened his tongue against that bundle of nerves. “Oh god… oh god…”

  My orgasm shocked me, hitting so hard and fast only my husband’s hands kept me upright as I sobbed against the rocks, feeling it everywhere. I was limp with pleasure and fluttery with aftershocks as he pulled me back down his body. I straddled the thick erection that strained through his shorts. I kissed him breathlessly as I reached down, fisting him roughly just to watch his reaction.

  “All of me,” I said. “I want you to have it.”

  “Please put me out of my misery,” he groaned. “I need you right now.”

  I lowered myself carefully, taking every single inch as he filled me, stretched me. We shared an anguished moan, faces close, and then I started moving. Cope’s cock nudged and teased along my inner walls, a delicious drag and stroke as I rode him slowly. I stayed pressed against his chest, and his hands held the back of my neck, my hair.

  His eyes locked on mine in the most intimate moment of my entire life.

  “I’m giving you all of me too,” he whispered against my lips. “And I will give you my mouth, my tongue, my fingers. I’ll make you come until you can’t stand and then I’ll do it again. I will love every inch of your body, and I’ll always let you know it.”

  “Yes, Cope,” I moaned, taking him harder and faster now, unable to stop seeking the delicious friction. Beneath the ocean waves, the only sounds were our heavy breathing, Cope’s raspy voice, and our bodies slapping together.

  “I will cook you bacon every morning.” His half-grin at my words had my toes curling. “And surprise you with road trips and bring you coffee when we’re camping in the middle of the woods, and I’m so close, so…”

  His hands left my hair but only to grab my waist and lift me up and down, setting a faster pace that had us both shuddering.

  “I will braid all of this hair and help you breathe and hold you when you sleep,” he whispered at my ear. “You will always feel safe with me, sunshine. That’s a promise I intend to keep forever.”

  There wasn’t time for coherent speech after that, only a dual seeking of release. I planted my hands on his broad chest and sat all the way up, the wind tugging at my hair and the breeze embracing my feverish skin. My nails bit into his skin. His fingers bruised my hips, lifting me up and down. I kept our eyes locked as I fucked my husband, the love of my life and the man I would do anything to protect.

  His face was a mask of ecstasy, and despite our sore and tired muscles, that man worked me skillfully on his thick cock, panting my name until he took mercy on me and touched his thumb to my clit.

  I threw my head back and cried out through a second, more powerful climax that had me shuddering and shaking. Lowering my face to his, I let Cope thrust into me hard and deep. Let him kiss me as he groaned, “I love you so much.”

  Watched him come like a revelation as I said, “I love you too.”

  After, I lay with my ear pressed to his heart. The steady rhythm soothed me as his fingers played with my hair and the waves curled against the sand. They were a force of nature that always returned, no matter the season or the weather, an endless reunion with their home.

  An answer to all questions.

  “I always hoped we’d find each other again,” I whispered.

  His lips brushed the crown of my head. I felt his ribs expand on a breath that matched my own.

  “I always knew we would,” he said.

  41

  Cope

  Three days later

  I sat in my office at Banks Executive Security and prepared to get fired.

  I had a meeting with Marilyn starting in just ten minutes. This was our second in three days—in the first one, I confessed every detail that I’d withheld from my boss and Falco from the moment I’d been given the assignment.

  Through a mixture of guilt and regret, I informed them of my marriage, the whistleblower files, and the escalating threats by the company we’d contracted with. My admission was made more dramatic by the article about Aerial—reported on by Quentin, of course—that had broken that very morning.

  Marilyn had managed to conceal her emotions throughout the meeting, but she did send me home without any idea of what my fate would be. Although I could guess.

  I spent the past two days stewing in that guilt and regret—and talking to Serena about my own reckless behavior and dissatisfaction with this career. I was just beginning to get an idea of what I needed to do next. There was something freeing about giving in to the clues and warning signs your subconscious shared with you.

  But first, I needed to atone for my many sins.

  Checking my watch, I picked u
p this morning’s San Diego Times. The giant, front-page headline read: Fall from Grace.

  The byline was Quentin’s—it was a follow-up story to the first one.

  As more employees step forward, the first paragraph read, a beloved company must answer for more than a decade of fraud allegations and wide-scale abuse.

  Right in the middle was a picture of Catalina with the five other employees she’d worked with to expose Aerial’s misdeeds. The FTC was currently investigating Marty, David, and their board members on claims of defrauding consumers and investors as the heinous practices at their factories were finally being revealed.

  The brothers had yet to provide a comment.

  Catalina had been right in her early assumptions: It wasn’t that the Lattimores had always intended to lie and cheat their way into sustainability. It was that they’d given in when they decided that money was more important and remaining ethical was too hard. Foster Hemmings, the city’s slimiest councilmember, had helped the brothers create a culture of threats and bribery among their employees. And while it still wasn’t clear who at the top of law enforcement had been protecting them, the message was obvious: Maintaining this company’s reputation benefited a lot of powerful people.

  Thanks in large part to Quentin’s respectful reporting, the media hadn’t targeted Catalina or Serena. They checked in on each other every day. Catalina was still the real hero of this story, and Quentin was already planning to write profiles on her and her co-conspirators. He also planned stories on the people who worked in Aerial’s factories and had experienced their horrific conditions, putting a spotlight on the pervasive problems our society preferred to ignore.

  I folded the paper just as I recognized the sounds of Falco’s footsteps. I leaned way past my desk as he walked by.

  “Hey, Falco?” I called.

  A moment passed, and then he appeared in the doorway. “What is it?”