“Not tonight, Grayson,” Eric replies. “She’s home. Enjoy her being home. I’ll key in the security code and lock up.” With that, he heads out of the kitchen.
Bristling with his dismissal, I stand up with the intent of pursuing him, but Mia is instantly on her feet, stepping in front of me, her tiny hands settling on my chest. “Fighting over money, or me naked in your bed, our bed now, again.” Her blue eyes flash. “Choose now.”
When she puts it that way—Eric can wait.
I scoop her up and start walking to the bedroom.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Mia
Grayson wastes no time settling me on the bed and coming down on top of me, the sweet weight of his big body anchored above mine by his elbows. “Mia,” he whispers, his voice rough with emotion.
The truth is, I’m roughened up with emotions, in a way no one else can.
I reach up, my fingers rasping over his newly formed stubble. “I can’t believe I’m here.”
“Me either, baby,” he murmurs, and the mix of tenderness and heat in his stare steals my breath. I still have moments when I can’t believe that this amazing man is affected by me. I know it’s part of what got us in trouble in the past, but I can’t help it. I’m his biggest fan. I will always be his biggest fan, but what I failed to see in the past, by no fault of his, is that’s he’s mine as well. And for all his years of experience, for all his worldliness, he’s damaged, and I know that I somehow speak to that damage in all the right ways.
He rolls us to our sides, facing each other. “I just wish you didn’t have to feel fear. I want you to just be home and safe.”
“Maybe it’s over.”
“Yes,” he says. “Maybe it’s over, but we, Mia, are not and never will we be again. And we’re getting married on New Year’s Eve.” Just that easily, he brings us back to where this night once sparkled and shined. His mouth closes down on mine and it’s then that I know he doesn’t want to talk. He doesn’t want to live in the danger and the trouble. He wants to live right here with me, with us, and so do I. His lips caress mine, a feather-light touch I feel in every part of me. Even when we were apart, I felt him deep in my very soul. His fingers trail over my arm, goosebumps lifting in their wake. Right now, there is no Dungeon or house explosion. There’s no murder or mayhem.
There is just us.
Me.
Him.
Loving each other forever.
We undress each other and end up under the blanket, naked and facing each other, and there is a fierce emotional energy between us. And tenderness, so much tenderness. We make love in our bed, in our bedroom, and in our apartment. And when it’s over, I fall asleep on his chest and in his arms, and despite all that is going on around us, more relaxed than I have been in years.
I wake to Grayson snuggling me from behind and nuzzling my neck. “It’s time to get up, baby.”
I snuggle my backside against him and hold onto his arm where it’s draped around me. “Do I have to?”
“Believe me, baby, I want to keep you right here, but Delaney—”
I groan and roll over to face him. “I have to get up.” But I don’t. I run my fingers through his wonderfully thick dark hair. “How are you?”
“Baby, you’re home. I’m perfect.”
I know that’s not true. I know why he was holding that gun last night despite a monster of a man named Axe working our security. He is still spinning out of control, but he doesn’t give me time to press the topic or even open it up at all. He rolls out of bed—tall, dark, rippling with muscle, and perfectly naked—and takes me with him to the shower. I forget about my questions and worries for at least a little longer, because how can I not when he’s sinfully demanding in the shower, under a hot stream of water? A little while later, we stand at the double sinks together, engaging in our morning routine, sneaking peeks at each other and sharing smiles. Somehow after Ri attacked us, it’s all the more surreal, so very surreal.
With fifteen minutes to spare before we leave, and as used to be our routine, we end up in the kitchen sipping coffee—me in a navy-blue suit dress and him in a gray suit with a navy-blue tie that I picked for him. We flip on the news in the kitchen, scan for anything important, and find nothing. Satisfied for now, we turn it back off and relish our morning home together. Despite the “relish in each other” part of this morning, I feel the clawing of heavier topics demanding to be heard. I’m worried about Grayson. I can’t get that image of him holding that gun out of my mind. I’m about to press him to talk about how he’s really feeling when his cellphone rings. I sigh and lean against the island while he leans against the counter with the sink behind him and me in front of him. He murmurs, “It’s Blake,” before answering the call.
My nerves are instantly bouncing around and punching me in the chest and belly. I need this to be over. We need this Ri situation to be over, all of us. Somehow I manage to summon my best courtroom calm, and I even sip my coffee.
“Let me put you on speaker,” Grayson says and then, “Mia and Blake. You’re both on the line.”
“Morning, Mia,” Blake greets.
“Is it?” I challenge and set my mug on the counter, quickly correcting myself. “I mean, good morning. And thank you for everything you did last night.”
Grayson responds to my obvious edginess by closing the space between us, his legs shackling my legs, one hand at my waist. His eyes are warm—the message in their depths promising me that whatever is right or wrong, we’ll face it together.
“It is,” Blake assures me. “Really flipping good. And just so you know. Flipping doesn’t do that sentence justice, but my wife is on my ass over the F-word. It’s really f-ing good. I was up all night monitoring the Dungeon, on the dark web and otherwise. They’ve pulled out. They have their money. They’re satisfied. The FBI and CIA have them on their radar and are working to take down their operation. Apparently, they have been for a while now. Here’s where the really f-ing good comes into play. The FBI is offering you and your team immunity if you allow them to use your company to take them down.”
Grayson scowls. “Use my company? I don’t know if I like how that sounds.”
“With limits that you and your legal counsel set-up. I’m getting the deal to you to review with your team and to Reese. He’ll talk to you about a counter with your terms. Be happy. They want you to make this deal. This is going to be on your terms.”
“Why are they suddenly offering a deal?”
“Things change when you pit two agencies against the other. I have an ex-CIA agent on board who knows who to talk to. Once they tried to take over, the FBI changed their tune. You’re free. This is all but over. Celebrate. Eat chocolate, if my guys left you any. Drink champagne. Get married. Adrian and Axe are sleeping off the night. You have Jacob and Smith with you today. Both are quiet, unlike Adrian and Savage. May the force be with you and all of us.” He hangs up.
Grayson slides his phone into his pocket. “Well?” I ask, prodding for his feelings.
“I’m cautiously optimistic.”
I breathe out in relief. “Then so am I.”
He picks up my coffee and sips before offering it to me, turning the cup so that we drink from the same spot. His green eyes simmer with heat, sunshine on a winter’s day, sunshine on every winter day I could ever live. My belly flutters with the intimate act, that somehow is just as intimate as us naked in that shower. I sip the coffee and when I’m done, his hand covers mine over the mug.
“I think you better call the wedding planner, baby, any wedding planner that has the time to help. New Year’s Eve will be here before we know it.”
My lips curve and all that sunshine is pouring into me, warming all those cold spots that chilled me this past year. Optimism officially wins. Today is the day our new life really begins. Because today is the day my man, and sunshine, wins.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Mia
Smith and Jacob are both military types that stick with
formalities like “yes, ma’am” and “how are you, sir?” I’d normally try to break through that stiffness and force them to be the real people they are, but today, I don’t. Once we’re in the back of the Escalade, I’m focused on Delaney and my case notes. My goal right now is to bring Reese and Delaney together in a way that sticks and then show them both a path to victory.
Grayson sits next to me, his big powerful leg pressed to mine, and peeks at my notes with my blessing. I want him to believe in this case, in Delaney, in me. His cellphone rings and he snags it from his pocket to show me the caller ID that reads, Eric.
Grayson answers and after a quick few words, he hangs up. “He heard about the offer. He wants to talk about it.”
This stiffens my spine. “And?”
“He wants to know the terms, but he’s cautiously optimistic.”
Cautiously optimistic, I repeat in my head. I keep hearing those words but I cling to them. I want this to be over, really over, but I also know Grayson. He can assess the deal, he’s a talented attorney himself, but that won’t be enough. He’ll want Eric and Davis, his confidants in different ways, to offer in-depth opinions, to pass along to Reese. This agreement is nothing but a verbal tease right now.
I force my focus back to my client notes and Grayson’s gaze catches on the controversial idea I have for Delaney’s defense. He reaches for my notepad. “Can I?”
“Of course,” I say, holding my breath as he scans the notes in more detail before those intelligent green eyes meet mine. “I think you need to be running our criminal law division.” It’s the biggest compliment I could ever get from anyone.
I’m warmed by his praise, my cheeks heating, but I force myself to remain dubious for Delaney’s sake. “I hope Reese is as approving of my strategy as you are.”
“If he doesn’t, she doesn’t need him.”
His confidence in my strategy matters and not just because I’m representing his firm and him, but because I care about what happens to Delaney.
“It’s true,” I say of what he’s read. I don’t speak the details, not with Smith and Jacob in the vehicle. I trust the Walker team, but Grayson is part of Delaney’s legal team and they aren’t, which means they aren’t privy to the knowledge he is. “That’s why I’m supporting her.”
“As well you should. Does she know this is your strategy?”
“No. And I’m not telling her yet.”
“Why?”
“I want her to tell her story to Reese with me guiding her to my conclusion, of course.”
“As you would if she were on the stand,” he assumes.
“Yes. I want him to experience what I did when I first talked to her. Her desperation, her honesty, and she is honest, no matter how brutal it is for her to speak the words.”
“Are you sure a public place is the best place for this meet and greet?”
“It works for Reese, so we’ll make it work, but I’m really not worried. An interesting thing about Delaney—she can tell you her story with dry eyes and somehow be composed, but you feel her spiraling inside. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen. You’ll see. I want you to sit in on this.”
“Are you sure she wants me to sit in?”
“She’ll have the most powerful man in the legal world in front of her. Yes. She needs to feel that support. Unless you don’t want to join us?”
The Escalade pulls to the front door of Reese and Cat’s building and Grayson considers that idea a moment before he surprises me by saying, “No. This is your story, and hers, that your writing, Mia. Not mine.”
“My story is our story.”
“Of course it is and inside our story, we weave our individual successes, which we celebrate together. I need to run to the bank and take care of a few things. I’ll l leave you with the Walker team, and meet you back here at the building.” His hand slides under my hair and settles on my neck and he leans in close, his breath a warm fan on my cheek. “You’ve got this. And we’ve got each other.”
I know what he’s doing and I’m profoundly affected by where we’ve been and how far we have come together. He’s right. We are two pieces of one whole, held together by love, but we have to grow each piece for a lasting bond. Because we know this now, we are stronger than ever before. We will not make the same mistakes as before. We were almost perfect and from now on, we both know that we will always be almost perfect. We can’t let the word “perfect” allow us to take each other for granted.
He’s right. We’ve got each other. “Yes, we do,” I say, pressing my lips to his and we share a soft caress of tongues that I feel from head to toe.
Grayson growls soft and low. “Go before I don’t let you go.” He motions to Jacob.
Jacob exits the vehicle from the front and he’s quickly opening my door. I hesitate to exit with my attention on Grayson. “Don’t you need to speak to Reese?”
“See if we can give him a ride to the courthouse.”
I nod. “Will do. Wish me luck.”
“You don’t need it.” He winks. “You have the truth and a strategy.”
I smile, but as I exit to the street, it fades into a mix of the cool fall wind and my nerves over this meeting. Jacob and Blake are both waiting for me on the sidewalk. The two men have size in common, both tall and broad, but otherwise, they’re polar opposites. Jacob has a buzz cut, and he’s wearing a tan suit and tie and a perfectly pressed shirt, while Blake is in jeans and a T-shirt with his long dark hair tied at his nape. Blake’s a handsome man, but there are shadows under his eyes, and the lines on his face are more pronounced than usual. I’m reminded of last night and immediately say, “Thank you for all you’ve done. I know you’re tired.”
He arches a brow. “You mean I look like shit?”
“No,” I say quickly. “I just meant—”
“It’s okay. I’m not sensitive and shit. That’s Savage.” He eyes Jacob. “Right, Jacob?”
“Savage is many things I can’t quite name.”
I laugh, thankful for the distraction that’s taken the edge off my nerves. Blake points to the back door behind me. “I’ll trade spots with you,” he says. “I’m going to chat with Grayson.”
My brows dip and my heart lurches. “Is everything okay?” I suck in a breath and wait for the bombshell that has Blake here, chasing Grayson at seven in the morning, and clearly, one he’s going to reveal alone, with me out of the conversation.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Mia
“Blake?” I press. “Is everything okay?”
“Relax,” he says. “Everything is flipping wonderful.” He grins. “See. I didn’t say fuck.” He grimaces. “Damn it. Don’t tell Kara.”
Now I laugh. “I promise. If you promise everything really is flipping wonderful.”
He grins again. “I promise. I’m just reassuring him about this deal being fucking wonderful.” He winks at me now, too—apparently, it’s that kind of morning—before he climbs inside the Escalade with Grayson and Smith.
Jacob shuts the door behind him. “Ready?”
“As ready as I’m going to be,” I say, and together we head toward the building. “What’s your story?” I ask him, preferring to know something about the people who I’m trusting to save my life.
“Army,” he says, “which is a simplified way of defining my past, but I’m a simple guy.”
“Somehow I doubt that,” I reply.
His lips quirk, but he simply holds the building door for me. I enter with him on my heels and towering above me as we make our way toward the restaurant. We’re halfway there when Reese intercepts us. “Morning, Mia.” He stops in front of us, his blue suit fits to perfection, and his good looks, the reason some bloggers call him Mr. Hotness. Which I imagine he can’t like, considering his professional reputation. “Morning, Jacob,” he adds, before his attention shifts back to me. “I use Walker often for investigative and security work,” he explains. “Jacob has helped me out a number of times. And sorry, this has to be early and fast
.”
“I just appreciate you making time,” I say. “Grayson wants to drive you to the courthouse and get a few minutes to get a feel for what you think of this immunity deal.”
“In case that ride is too short, let me just say this: I’m feeling optimistic about where this is heading with this deal. And since I know terms are what you and Grayson are likely concerned about, yes, I’m certain they’ll negotiate the terms. All that said, why don’t you two just come over for dinner tonight? We have our daughter and I have trial prep I need to be home to manage. That’s the easiest way for us to get more time to talk.”
“That works for us,” I say, the idea of having our own baby girl doing funny things to my belly “We’d love that.”
“Perfect,” Reese says, lifting his chin at Jacob. “In case you don’t know, Mia, this man’s wife had something to do with helping move this along.”
I glance at Jacob. “Your wife?”
Jacob gives a fast nod. “She’s NYPD but she has a connection at the FBI that proved helpful, even beyond Blake’s deep connections. She wasn’t involved in this case, but she managed to insert herself in the right places.”
“Thank you to her,” I say. “I’ll make sure Grayson knows.”
“Not necessary, ma’am,” Jacob assures me. “We just like to see the good guys win.”
“As do I,” I say, glancing at Reese, “which is why I appreciate this meeting, Reese.”
“Well then,” he says. “Let’s get to it while I have time.”
I nod and we head toward the restaurant. “I’ll wait at the entryway,” Jacob says, while Reese and I step into the doorway to the hostess stand to find Delaney sitting and waiting at a side bench. She pops to her feet, a petite, pretty woman with red hair and the kind of luminous pale freckled skin that money and good genes delivers. Her black dress, boots, and matching purse are Chanel, which I know because I love Chanel and only have Chanel because Grayson buys it for me. I won’t buy it for myself. That was a bonding topic for me and Delaney as it was the same for her. Her husband bought her nice things, but unlike Grayson, who does it because he loves me, hers did it to apologize or hold her captive. She was also expected to present herself as an appropriate trophy wife. I feel as if she doesn’t know how to be anything but what he literally beat her into becoming. Or else.
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