by April Hunt
“And he’s the one who took a shot at you…because of me,” it pained Zoey to admit. “…and all those innocent women. It’s all my fault.”
Tears took over Zoey’s voice.
“Hey.” Knox sat on her bed and gently eased her into his side. “None of that is on you, baby. Do you hear me? No way in hell are you responsible for his actions. None of them.”
“It doesn’t change what happened.”
“But it can change how we move forward from here.” Knox cupped her cheek and gently tilted her face toward his. “I’m so sorry, angel. I should’ve told you about Wilcox as soon as I found out who he was.”
“And why didn’t you?”
There was no judgment in her voice. No anger. Knox swallowed his emotions—or tried to—and was honest. “Because I knew hearing about Wilcox would hurt you, and since I was doing such a piss poor job of protecting you from myself, I needed to protect you from something. It was fucked up, I know.”
Zoey clutched his hand tight. “You don’t need to save me from you.”
“Obviously I do. I pissed you off so much that you stalked away from me and got caught in a killer’s web. I’m a hazard if I ever saw one.” His gaze flickered over her face. “But I’m a selfish bastard because I still don’t want to let you go. I love you, Zoey. So damn much. And I was a coward not to say anything earlier.”
Zoey’s monitor picked up its pace. “Wh-what did you say?”
“That I’m a hazard?”
“After that.”
“That I’m a selfish bastard?”
“Even after that.”
Knox’s gaze dropped to their entwined hands. He brought them up to his mouth and brushed his lips softly against her knuckles. “You mean about loving you?”
“You love me?” Zoey whispered.
Knox’s hand firmed around hers. “You’re passing over an opportunity to call me a selfish bastard?”
“I’ll get back to that…later.” The sight of a grin on Knox’s tired face made Zoey’s heart flip…for a good reason.
“You reminded me that home is where my heart is…Steele Ops, my family, my friends…you. You’re my home, Zoey. I love you with everything that I have and all that I am.”
An outpouring of happiness bubbled from Zoey’s chest in the form of tears. “Will you do me a favor?”
“Anything, baby. You name it.”
“Will you tell me why you’ve always called me angel?”
His unfiltered smile tugged up Zoey’s own lips. “You haven’t figured it out yet?”
“No.”
“When I first laid eyes on you, strutting up from the riverbank, the sun setting behind you, there was this golden halo all around you. You looked like an earthbound angel. A guardian angel. My angel. Calling you anything else didn’t seem right.”
The throbbing ache in her chest was slowly replaced by an all-encompassing warmth.
Love.
“I love you, Knox Steele. So much. I know we both made some mistakes along the way, but I’m willing to go all-in. I want you to be the Angel to my Buffy—but with a happily ever after ending. I want to be your everything.”
Knox brushed his mouth against hers. “You already are, Zoey.”
Bulky bandage be damned, she caught his cheeks between her palms and pulled his mouths to hers. She kissed him until her cardiac monitor squealed, and nurse Nickie came running.
Something the other woman said when she’d first woken up clicked into place. Your sweet friend from the last time around.
Zoey propped her forehead against his and felt the ghost of a smile slip onto her face. “Last year. You came. You were here.”
His thumb caressed her bottom lip. “I’ll always be here for you, angel.”
Epilogue
Zoey stuck her head out of Knox’s truck window and inhaled the scent of lilacs. “This is the best thing I’ve ever smelled. And I’m not just saying that because for the first time in weeks, I’m not surrounded by bleach.”
Knox came around to the passenger side and opened her door, grinning. “Wait until I get you around back. Between the blooming flower beds and the river, your cute little nose is going to be in heaven.”
He scooped her into a princess carry, making her laugh. “My heart malfunctioned on me, Knox, not my legs. I can walk around to the garden.”
“My time as your Knight in Shining Kevlar has a shelf life, so let me get my time in while I can, woman.”
Zoey rolled her eyes and chuckled. During the course of her hospitalization, they’d had a long-overdue talk. About everything. Them. Their families. Her condition. Even Samuel, may his ass rot in jail forever.
She’d agreed to let Knox hover until she was cleared to go back to work, and then it was Neanderthal caveman only part of the time, within reason, and she retained full authority to tell him to leave her alone and suck it up.
For now, she enjoyed the special treatment.
They cleared the back corner of Iron Bars and were immediately greeted by a loud Welcome Home. All Zoey’s favorite people stood on the patio, soft music playing in the background as they waited for their arrival.
Knox gently returned her to her feet and dropped a soft kiss onto her lips. “Visit. Rest. And do not overdo it. Knox’s order.”
“Trying to get those in there while you can?” Zoey teased.
“I’m not one to waste opportunities, sweetheart.”
Liam cleared his throat and inserted himself between them. “Seriously, man. You’ve been hogging her for weeks. Step aside.”
“Just…be careful,” Knox warned, making Zoey’s eyes roll.
She wrapped Liam in a hug, and then quickly did the same to everyone else.
Cade, looking uneasy, approached last.
“What’s wrong, big brother?” She hugged him close and then held on a bit longer.
“You know I love you, right, little bit?”
“And I love you.”
“You know I’d do anything for you.”
“Same here.”
She pulled back, noticing her brother’s preoccupation. “You’re starting to freak me out.”
“Mom made me invite him. I didn’t want to, but…” He gestured to their left.
Zoey’s gaze slid over to the back steps of Iron Bars. Hogan Wilcox stood apart from everyone else, hands shoved deep in his pockets.
She and Knox had talked about her father too.
Beneath the shock his presence had caused was a wide range of emotions, some good, some not. But they were there, and they weren’t about to go away.
She looked back to her brother to see unveiled anger simmering beneath the surface. “I don’t like what he did.”
“Nope.”
“I don’t like his reasoning for doing it.”
“Me neither.”
“But…”
Cade looked at her expectantly. “But?”
“We’ve all learned that there aren’t any guarantees in life. I don’t want to live—or die—with any regrets. And I suspect that Hogan…our dad…doesn’t either.”
Cade cursed. “I hate it when you break out the common sense.”
Knox’s warm arms wrapped around her from behind. His mouth dropped on her neck in a series of gentle kisses. “Frowning isn’t allowed, angel.”
“I’m not frowning. I’m discussing.” Zoey slid an evil smirk toward Cade. “And I was about to tell my brother that my common sense can be used for a wide range of scenarios. Work. Family. And love.”
On cue, Grace’s laughter drifted toward them from where she talked to Tank and Roman less than twelve feet away.
“I adore you, sis, but please do not give me love advice,” Cade pleaded.
Liam called for some assistance manning the grill, giving her brother a reason to escape.
Zoey chuckled as Knox turned her toward him. “You’re a menace, Wright.”
She wrapped her arms around his waist and clung to the back of his shirt. “I’m not a m
enace. I just want to see the people I care about happy.”
“And you think Grace would make Cade happy.”
“I don’t think it. I know it. Cade and Grace know it too. They just need a bit of time to come to terms with it.”
Chuckling, Knox picked her up into another princess carry and stalked toward the Angel Eyes, tied to the Iron Bars’ recently renovated dock.
“Where are we going?” Zoey asked, hopeful.
“We’re going to sit out on the deck and watch the stars…and if I fall asleep holding you in my arms, good.”
“What about the party?”
“They’ll get us…or we’ll hear the shouts when Liam burns off his eyebrows.”
Zoey laughed all the way to the boat, her cheek pressed against Knox’s chest. Love warmed every inch of her body, and beneath her sternum, her heart fell into perfect sync with his.
See the next page for a preview of Lethal Redemption by April Hunt!
Chapter
One
Trash skidded across the street, the only inhabitant of the pier other than FBI profiler Grace Steele, her Lyft driver, and the two New York City–sized rats scrambling away from her ride’s headlights.
The tall, arching buildings of the urban skyline etched out the lowering sun, putting the dock-side warehouse into close running for World’s Most Ominous setting. In her eight years with the Bureau, Grace hadn’t once read a crime report that boasted about beautiful, overpopulated beaches in the middle of the day.
Three times out of ten, they showcased a scene just like this one.
“You sure about this, lady?” Her Lyft driver, Anthony, glanced at the building in front of them, and frowned. “My ma always claimed I couldn’t spot a bad idea if it stared me dead in the eye, but I can see that isn’t a place you should walk in daylight, much less this late at night. I can take you back—no charge.”
Grace bit her tongue to keep from accepting the offer, and read her boss’s text message for the third time in as many minutes: 321 Pier Six. Be there. Nine o’clock. No excuses!
Correct address. Correct time. And loaded with an invisible warning that to defy the FBI Director’s explicit demand would mean severe consequences. Still, she’d never wanted to disobey orders so bad in her life—except when Aunt Cindy forbade her from buying a prom dress she considered “light-years too short for a grown woman, much less a sixteen-year-old girl.”
Thwarting Aunt Cindy’s edict had gotten her laundry duty, which was no small punishment living with four overgrown male cousins. But disregarding a direct order from Director Vance would get her fired.
She was already on the director’s shit-list and couldn’t afford a second ding.
Not that the first one was her fault. Misogyny had no place in the Bureau, and she’d gladly sit through another Resolving Conflict seminar for the chance to tell her former regional supervisor where he could stuff his sexist comments.
Side note: It would’ve involved heavy-duty spelunking equipment and an industrial-lit flashlight.
But her notorious Steele temper flare-up last month was the reason why she couldn’t disobey orders now.
Grace tucked her phone into her back pocket and climbed out of the car. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m sure.”
“It’s your life, lady…but I may hang around a bit to be on the safe side.”
It hovered on her lips to tell him that it wasn’t needed, but she swallowed the words at the last minute. “Thanks.”
Grace turned toward the ramshackle building and cursed. Windows not boarded up were broken, revealing the dark abyss beyond. No lights. No sounds. The entire place looked as if it hadn’t seen a caretaker in close to a decade.
If it wasn’t December, and if the text hadn’t come from Vance herself, she’d think this was an office April Fool’s prank. But the director didn’t joke, or smile, or make second requests.
Grace tugged her coat collar up to protect from the chilling wind whipping in from the Hudson. “Maybe this is her new way to weed out subpar agents.”
She didn’t believe that either.
In eight years with the Bureau, she’d made a name for herself, partly because she was damn good at what she did, and also because she did it a lot. Vacations weren’t her thing, and so she had a lot of time to perfect her craft.
She dissected people—psychologically. A criminal profiler, she picked away at people’s thought processes, examined their motives, what made them tick, and why they did the things they did with the hope of stopping them before they did it again.
Though trained like any field agent, she spent most of her time behind a desk, or across an interview table…which made her even more wary about why she’d been directed to make a Cloak and Dagger appearance down at the docks.
“And you’re not going to find out standing here like a statue.” Grace’s smart business heels clacked on the broken asphalt as she steadily headed to the rusted iron doors.
Three feet away, two men stepped out from behind a stack of crates.
“You can stop right there, ma’am.” The one on her left, focused and unsmiling, aimed his gun toward her chest.
The second one stepped forward, holstering his weapon. “Special Agent Steele.”
“You seem to have one up on me. You know who I am.”
Clean-shaven with dark, close-cropped hair, and a fit, lean physique, he couldn’t have been much older than herself. His long, confident stride and that little glint in his eye identified him as law enforcement right away.
Grace’s eyes flickered down to the pin attached to his left suit lapel.
Secret-freakin’-Service.
“Agent Jake Carelli. Secret Service. Are you carrying a weapon, ma’am?”
At barely thirty years old, she considered herself a few years away from ma’am. But with one gun still aimed in her direction, she swallowed her smart retort. “In this neighborhood? Yeah, I have my service weapon.”
“You’ll need to relinquish it to me.” Agent Carelli held out his hand expectantly.
Grace laughed…and realized she was the only one. “Oh wait. You’re serious? Yeah, sorry, but that’s not happening.”
“Sorry, ma’am, but it is.”
Again with the damn ma’am crap. Releasing a heavy sigh, she carefully reached beneath her jacket and unhooked Magdalena, her trusty Magnum .22, from her holster and placed it in Agent Carelli’s hand. “Only God can help you if something happens to her. You hear me?”
“Loud and clear, ma’am.” The Secret Service agent’s lips twitched. “I’ll take good care of her.”
“Good. And while you’re at it, you can stop the ma’am business anytime.”
“Noted…Special Agent Steele.” He smirked, the move showcasing an impressive set of dimples.
Once upon a time, the handsome, cocky type had been her catnip. But teenager Grace had gotten a firsthand crash course on all the epic ways for that to smack you in the face. It was fun at first, but reality had a way of waking you up. The only way to ensure a happily ever after was to make it yourself.
Agent Carelli tapped the communication device hooked around his left ear. “Special Agent Steele has arrived and is on her way inside.”
The door behind him opened with a heavy thunk.
“And where exactly am I going once I’m inside?” Grace asked.
“You’ll see.”
“Great. I just love surprises that lurk in dark warehouses,” Grace muttered, her sarcasm earning her a small chuckle from the agent.
With a final warning glare at Carelli, still holding Magdalena hostage, she stepped through the doorway and was instantly greeted by two more Secret Service agents, one of whom blocked her entry into the main room.
“Arms and legs out, ma’am.”
Grace sighed, but did as requested. The second agent ran a metal detector baton over her body, and once satisfied, nodded to his cohort, who ushered her through a second set of double doors and into the large, and obviously unused,
old sewing factory.
The second she spotted the lone figure standing center stage, her curiosity turned into a lead weight that dropped her stomach to her feet.
Pierce Brandt.
Vice President of the United States.
Deemed too pretty for government work while on the campaign trail, the former senator sported a full head of salt-and-pepper hair and broad shoulders that remained from his days in the military. Both his smile and his general youth had been media fodder before he’d taken office…but neither was in the room.
Dark circles framed his once brilliant green eyes, and his well-known smile had been replaced by a tight-lipped grimace. He looked a far cry and a few decades away from the man on the news who effortlessly charmed foreign dignitaries.
This Brandt, with his shoulders slouched, looked more like a man defeated.
“Special Agent Grace Steele. Finally, we meet.” He held out a hand in greeting. “I’ve heard many great things about you from Director Vance, and I can see that my presence is a shock, which means the director abided my wishes and didn’t tell you anything about this meeting.”
Grace sucked down her nerves. “Not a thing, sir.”
“Good. Good. I really am sorry for all the secrecy, but I’m afraid it was a necessary evil. I needed to make sure this conversation remained private.”
“Because the White House isn’t secure…sir?”
He chuckled at her brazen question. “Secure? Most definitely. Private? No. I’ve asked you here as a personal favor because for a litany of reasons, I can’t involve local law enforcement or federal resources.”
And the surprises kept coming. She cleared her throat. “You do realize that I’m a federal agent, right?”
He smiled, the act never reaching his eyes. “I know many things about you, Special Agent Steele. I also know that you’ve worked with a private security firm in the very recent past—although I believe there was a small technicality.”
“The technicality being that it was actually the DCPD with whom I was consulting on the Beltway Cupid Killer case.”
Brandt leaned against the lone table, crossing his arms across his broad chest. “Very true. But it was Steele Ops that played a key role in the apprehension of the Cupid Killer, as well as in the rescue of your friend Zoey Wright.”