by Dani Pettrey
Her chest muscles compressed, the weight making it hard to breathe.
She tiptoed past the door, but before she could clear the doorframe, the door swung at her, knocking her to the ground.
Her eyes wide, her heart pounding in her chest, she turned, and Fuentes stepped around the door.
He staggered forward, his white shirt clinging to his bloody chest, an ax raised above his head.
“You’re going to pay, witch.”
She scrambled back, grabbing her purse and pulling out her gun. She fired once . . . twice, and the ax clattered to the floor. His body slumped lifelessly on top of it.
“Gabby.” Finn rushed into the loft, straight to her side, lifting her into his arms. “You okay, baby?”
She nodded, clinging to him.
seventy-seven
Two days later, Finn held the door open for Gabby as she stepped into Noah’s hospital room carrying a basket of his favorite treats. No doubt he’d appreciate the Doritos and jerky far more than flowers.
“Looks like we’re the last to the party,” she said, her gaze tracking over everyone. Nana Jo sat in the chair angled and facing her son. Kenzie sat on the edge of the bed. Fiona attempted to teach Owen how to play Chutes and Ladders on a blanket spread across the floor.
She set the basket of goodies on Noah’s tray table.
“Yum.” He smiled. “Thanks, kid.”
“Really?” Nana Jo shook her head. “He needs real food, not that stuff coated in flavored powder.”
“Doritos!” Fiona hopped to her feet and skipped over to her uncle. “Can I have some, Uncle Noah?”
“Of course.” He smiled, handing her the bag.
“Ritos.” Owen waddled to his sister’s side.
“Be sure you share, Fiona,” Kenzie said.
“Yes, Mom.” She ripped the bag open, popped one in her mouth, and handed one to her brother.
“We’ve got some news,” Gabby said as Finn wrapped his arms around her from behind.
She leaned back into his hold, and he rested his chin on the top of her head.
“I’ll take the kiddos to get a drink,” Kenzie said.
“Thanks,” Noah said.
No need for them to be present for shoptalk.
Kenzie scooted them from the room with the promise of soda. “Caffeine free, of course,” she said, looking back at them. “The last thing these rug rats need is more energy.”
“So what’s the latest?” Noah asked.
Finn looked to Gabby with a smile, giving her the go-ahead to fill Noah in.
Gabby sighed. Where to begin?
“Hadley determined that Layton was strangled to death, causing burst blood vessels in his brain. Mo copped a deal for a lesser murder sentence, and both he and Jacobs also copped deals for their roles in the smuggling ring—both providing more than enough information to put the Collector away for a very long time. All three were arraigned and are set to stand trial.”
Gabby could hardly believe this next bit herself. “But Paul Barnes, owner of the Coffee Connection, was just an alias and cover.”
Noah arched a brow. “For?”
Finn lifted the file he’d dropped on the side table and handed it to Noah. “We have Logan and Em to thank for this. They ran his prints, and it turns out his real name is Raul Gomez.”
Noah opened to the eight-by-ten FBI Most Wanted flyer.
“That doesn’t look like Paul,” Noah said.
“Turns out Raul Gomez was the head of MS 13 in El Salvador. He disappeared right before the local authorities raided his compound. It appears he fled the country and underwent massive plastic surgery to change his appearance. Then he set up shop right here in Wilmington. He utilized the sleepy off-the-grid ports to smuggle goods in and used Layton at the airport to do the same. Layton handed them off to Jacobs, who delivered them to Raul via one of his men.”
“And Fletcher and Seavers?”
“With both dead, we can’t know for sure if they actively smuggled drugs or gave up Coast Guard patrol schedules. My guess is both,” Finn said. “I hate to think Will could have been involved in either, but we can’t overlook the facts.”
“Did you tell Tess?”
Finn shook his head. “It didn’t seem necessary to make her suffer more. Especially since she’s told us everything she knows.”
“Agreed.” Noah nodded. “What’s being done with the salvaged treasure Mo and Marv found for Gomez?”
“The FBI is handling all of the art and treasure. DEA is handling the drugs. Looks like they are about to seize millions.”
“They are searching Paul’s—or should I say, Raul’s—properties, as well as combing through all Litman Limited’s financials,” Gabby said, shaking her head. “I can only imagine what they’ll find.”
“So it’s over.” Noah sat back, relief settling on his face.
“Thankfully.” Finn smiled.
Noah looked to Gabby. “And you?”
She glanced back at Finn. “I’ll keep you posted.”
He nodded with a smile.
The next morning, Finn carried a breakfast tray and a bouquet of wildflowers up to the loft. “Knock, knock,” he said.
“Come in.”
He opened the door to find her packing.
His stomach dropped. Was she leaving?
“We should talk,” she said. “Why don’t we sit down?”
He nodded, his body tensing, and set the tray on the desk.
“Thanks, that looks amazing.”
He forced a smile. “No problem.”
She wore yoga pants, an Annapolis T-shirt, and her hair was up in a ponytail. Her face looked shiny and fresh with no makeup on. “You look amazing,” he said, taking a seat on the edge of the bed, while she pulled the desk chair up.
“Thanks.” A soft blush crept across her cheeks. She took a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking about things—us—and I’m staying.”
He inhaled, never having heard more beautiful words. “But your career . . . I’ve been thinking too. You were born to be a reporter. You come alive when on a story. As much as I’d love for you to stay, I love you too much for you to give up reporting.”
Her brow furrowed. “What are you saying? You want me to leave?”
“No.” He leaned across the small distance separating them and clasped her hand. “Of course not. I never want to be apart again, which is why I’ll move to Raleigh.”
“You’ll what?”
“I’d be happy to go to Raleigh, so you can continue with the paper you love.”
Tears filled her eyes. “But . . . I’ve already handed in my resignation.”
“What? But you love your job.”
“I love you more.”
Heat rushed through him. “I love you too.”
“But I haven’t given up reporting.” She smiled. “You’re looking at Wilmington’s WGAR-TV station’s new investigative reporter.”
“Seriously?”
“Yep. Lawrence called when he heard about the capture of the Collector and Fuentes’s death. He wanted to make sure I was all right. I told him I was fine but I wouldn’t be returning to Raleigh, and he totally understood. In fact, he offered to call a colleague at WGAR. Based on his introduction and their knowledge of my work, they called me about the job, and I accepted last night.”
“But you’re packing.”
“I found an apartment in town. Noah has a friend who’s leasing a place while he’s overseas for a six-month stint. I figured if we’re dating, it’d be more proper if I was in my own place.”
She was staying. Permanently, by the sound of it.
Love raked through him. “But I don’t want to date.”
Her face slackened. “You don’t?”
“No.”
She swallowed. “I don’t understand.”
He sat forward, taking her hands in his. “I don’t want to date because I want so much more.”
“You do?”
“I do,” he said, dropp
ing to his knees and pulling a ring out of his pocket, his hands steady. This felt beyond right in his heart and his soul.
Her eyes widened. “Baby . . .” Tears slipped from her eyes.
“Gabby,” he began, then exhaled any nerves away. As long as she said yes his whole world would be right. “I give you my word that I’ll always do right by you. You know that, right?”
“Of course.” She nodded. She pulled her hand from his and cupped his cheek, caressing it. “I know you. And you have my word that I’m never going anywhere. This is where I belong . . . with you.”
“You’re sure that’s what you really want? That I’m who you want?”
She smiled. “I’ve never wanted anything or anyone more. I promise.”
He inhaled the pleasure those words flooded through him. “I can’t tell you how happy that makes me.”
Her lips twitched into a smile. “Then why don’t you show me?”
He smiled back. “Yes, ma’am.” He leaned forward, bringing his lips to hers.
She wrapped her hands around his neck, spreading her fingers through his hair as he deepened the kiss.
Thank you, Father.
seventy-eight
TWO WEEKS LATER
Noah signaled Rissi to his desk. Unable to stay away from work, he’d chosen desk time over rest time. “We just got a call. I need you to investigate an accident at sea.”
“You think foul play might be involved?”
“It could be.”
Noah looked to the parking lot, and Rissi saw a black ’67 Chevy Impala pulling in, its motor rumbling in the way vintage muscle cars did.
“Right on time,” Noah said, straightening the papers on his desk and standing.
“Who is?”
“Our new teammate.”
“The new dive investigator?”
“Yep. Why don’t you go greet him, since you’ll be working together on this case?”
“Of course.” She still wasn’t anywhere near over Sam’s loss, but she understood the team’s need for a new member.
She rounded the corner and stopped short. Her gaze locked on a boy she’d once known.
She blinked as her breath caught. It can’t be.
Her gaze tracked over his rugged jaw and the scruff trimmed close on his face. His shoulders were broader, and he had to be at least six-three now. But it was him.
Mason.
His captivating green-gray eyes widened. “Ris? Is that you?” His deep voice resonated through her chest and vibrated along her limbs.
It was him. All grown up. She swallowed, finding her voice. “Mason?”
He raked a hand through his spikey, dark blond hair, and relief at her remembrance of him washed over his ruggedly handsome face. He smiled, and she forgot to breathe.
She was suddenly aware of her hands fidgeting at her sides, aware and in tune with her entire body. It wasn’t unease raking through her. It was more like she’d sunk back into her real, full self—the one she’d kept tucked safely away—for the first time in years. The sensation was startling and yet refreshing. But she had no clue what to do with her restless hands, so she combed them through her hair, twisted a strand around her finger. “Wh-what are you doing here?”
“Mason?” Noah said, striding up behind her and extending his hand. “Noah Rowley.”
Mason clearly had to force his gaze to shift from her to Noah, and he shook his hand. “Pleased to meet you, sir.”
Rissi swallowed, gaping between the two. What was happening?
“Ris, meet the newest member of our team, Mason Rogers.”
Acknowledgments
To Jesus—none of this would happen or matter without you. Thank you for your equipping, provision, and gracious love.
To Mike—for being my hero every day. I love you beyond measure.
To Kayla—for all your love, help, and kindness.
To Ty—for always keeping life interesting.
To my grandbabies—for filling my life with joy.
To Dave—for everything you do. I’m blessed to work with you. Here’s to ten novels!
To Janet—for your guidance, support, and friendship.
To Crissy, Amy, and Joy—for being my cheerleaders, encouragers, and biggest supporters. I so appreciate your amazing creativity and generosity.
To Debb—for your great heart!
To Kate—for the fantastic job of making me look like a better writer than I am. I appreciate you.
To Noelle and Amy—for everything you’ve done this past year. You went above and beyond to support me, and I so greatly appreciate it.
To Lisa—my heart sister. I love you.
To Dee—for your creativity, for sharing God’s abundant love with me, and for your enduring friendship. I thank God upon every remembrance of you.
To Dr. Weinman—for your compassionate care, brilliance, and wonderfully inventive story ideas. I’m extremely grateful for you.
Praised by New York Times bestselling author Dee Henderson as “a name to look for in romantic suspense,” Dani Pettrey has sold more than half a million copies of her novels to readers eagerly awaiting the next release. Dani combines the page-turning adrenaline of a thriller with the chemistry and happy-ever-after of a romance. Her novels stand out for their “wicked pace, snappy dialogue, and likable characters” (Publishers Weekly), “gripping storyline[s],” (RT Book Reviews), and “sizzling undercurrent[s] of romance” (USA Today). Her ALASKAN COURAGE series and CHESAPEAKE VALOR series have received praise from readers and critics alike and spent multiple months topping the CBA bestseller lists.
From her early years eagerly reading Nancy Drew mysteries, Dani has always enjoyed mystery and suspense. She considers herself blessed to be able to write the kind of stories she loves—full of plot twists and peril, love, and longing for hope and redemption. Her greatest joy as an author is sharing the stories God lays on her heart. She researches murder and mayhem from her home in Maryland, where she lives with her husband. Their two daughters, a son-in-law, and two adorable grandsons also reside in Maryland. For more information about her novels, visit www.danipettrey.com.
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Table of Contents
Cover
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Dedication
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About the Author
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