by Mia Sheridan
Carson's eyes narrowed slightly and there was a miniscule tipping of his lips. "Circumstances, huh?" He chuckled softly, giving me a brief but knowing smile. "Yeah, life is wild that way." His gaze flickered to the framed photos on his desk then back to me. "Did Josh give you a rundown on our operation?"
"He did. To say I'm impressed is an understatement. You do good work. And I think I can be an asset to your team."
"I don't doubt it." He tapped his pen on the edge of his desk for a second. "When can you start?"
My heart beat steadily in my chest, a feeling of rightness settling inside me. "I'd like a couple of weeks to get settled in Vegas, if possible. And I have a few loose ends to tie up."
"Absolutely." Carson stood, extending his hand and I followed suit. We shook. "Welcome to the team, Brody. We're honored to have you." He paused, smiling. "And good luck with those loose ends."
**********
I sat in my truck, watching her house from across the street the same way I'd done what now seemed like a lifetime ago. Before I'd known her. Before I'd loved her. Then again, maybe it'd started even then, that small grain of . . . something that told me the woman with the expressive blue eyes wearing her heart on her sleeve would change me in some irrevocable way. Life is wild, Carson had said, and holy hell, was that true.
Olivia Barton had walked into my life, and my entire world had tilted on its axis. I took the letter out of my coat pocket, the one she'd left sitting on the table in that cottage I'd rented for her on the beach after her life had been destroyed. My guts clenched with that now-familiar fiery want, the longing for the woman I'd burn the whole fucking world down for if she asked.
The barking of dogs caught my attention and I turned my head, watching as two mutts nipped playfully at each other as a little boy watched, laughing. He threw a stick, and the two dogs bounded after it. I smiled to myself, the barks that still occupied a corner of my own mind fading, drifting away.
I thought of those kennels, my family who had rejected me cruelly. So I'd rejected them as well. Then I'd created a life for myself where there was no possibility of getting close to anyone, telling myself it wasn't only the work I loved, but the aloneness as well. The solitude and the separateness. I'd claimed it this time and now the power was mine. It was only when I met Livvy that I'd finally allowed myself to admit that that old longing—for acceptance, for family, for love—was still there, buried deep inside and flickering like a candle glowing softly in a secret corner of a locked-up room. Waiting for a window to open, so the sunlight could spill inside.
Livvy. Home.
I unfolded the note slowly, reading her words:
Brody,
It's hard to believe I'm going home tomorrow, when home has taken on such a different meaning since I started on this fool's journey.
Fool's journey. I was a fool, wasn't I? Only . . . sitting here, staring out at the moon-drenched water, your scent still on my skin, I can't quite bring myself to regret all of it.
You told me your uncle was right when he said you made Lobo weak. But he wasn't right, Brody. Lobo would have died in that cage no matter what—he just wasn't a fighter, not in that way. But before that happened, you gave him love. And love doesn't make you weak. Love makes you strong. Lobo was strong to his final breath.
All my life, I've made excuses for people, tried to see only the good in them, even when my instincts were whispering the truth. This journey has taught me to listen to those whispers, to rely on my own gut, to question whom I give my heart to. And I will take those lessons with me as I now journey home, but I will use them to become stronger, not to stop loving, not to stop risking my heart. That's really the ultimate danger, after all, isn't it?
What my instincts tell me, what I know, Brody Thomas, is that you are a good man. You are brave and loyal, a defender who makes the world a better place. A savior. I'm glad you did what you did, even if I played an unwilling part in it. Even if I suffered for it, because in the end, you have changed me for the better. You have made me strong.
Yours, Livvy
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Livvy
I kicked the door closed behind me, heading toward the kitchen and setting the bag of groceries on the counter. I pushed aside the paperwork I'd been doing earlier for the girls’ school in Colombia. Even with all the danger we'd faced, I'd fallen in love with the wild beauty of the country, the rich culture, and the vast strength of its people. Helping to re-build the schools in poor, rural villages destroyed by the earthquake had taken over my heart and had been a welcome distraction from the pain of missing Brody. But work could wait. Everyone deserved one night off.
I paused for a second as I began unpacking my groceries, the atmosphere in the house feeling . . . off, the hairs on the nape of my neck lifting in awareness.
"Hi, Liv."
I spun around, bringing my hand to my mouth over a startled gasp. Brody was sitting in a chair at the breakfast nook, calm, casual. My heart leapt, resuming in a quickened beat as I blinked, swallowed. Stared. He was here? Why? "Brody," I breathed.
His eyes flared and he stood, coming toward me, that loose, familiar stride I'd memorized as we'd hiked through a lush, but ravaged country. My stomach clenched in fear, not of him, but of this desperate buzz of joy reverberating through my body. Oh God, it hurt to see him, hurt to know I still loved him so much I could hardly breathe. Because I might have to watch him walk away again. "You . . . you can't just break into someone's house. It's . . . illegal."
He walked right up to me, and I leaned against the counter, pressing my butt to the edge, needing stability. I looked into his beloved face, those hard lines, the well-shaped lips, flinty eyes that could melt like hot, molten silver. "You should get better security," he murmured, moving a piece of hair back from my face. "Maybe a dog."
I brought my knee up and his hand flashed out, catching it in his palm before I connected to his groin. He grinned, wolfish, and my stomach clenched. Oh God, he was beautiful. "Leave the moves to me, sweetheart."
I resisted the smile that tugged at my lips, my leg lowering as we stared at each other, our faces close. I could smell him, and it made my breath quicken, the longing rising inside me.
"You gave me a fake bank account number," I said. "I still owe you half the money for getting me to Palomino."
His lip quirked, and then his expression went serious. He watched me and something entered his gaze that I wasn't sure how to read. "Why are you here, Brody?" I practically whispered.
A breath gusted from his mouth and he moved back, his hand dropping slowly as if he were forcing himself to stop touching me. "Because I can't live without you."
My gaze washed over his face. Oh, Brody, don't make me do this, not again. Not when I was just beginning to regain my strength, just when the sharp edges of missing you had begun to dull even the slightest bit. "We . . . we talked about this. I"—I shook my head—"I can't watch you leave over and over. I can't give up my dreams, Brody. That's not—"
"I took a job. Here, in Vegas."
I blinked, my brow furrowing in confusion. "You what?"
He ran a hand through his hair, hair that was longer than it'd been. Hair I could now tell had a slight wave to it. My hands itched to touch it. "It's a task force. I'll tell you all about it. But it's local, Liv. And I'd only have to go out in the field if something unexpected came up. It's—"
A sob came up my throat, and I brought my hands to my face, covering my mouth. Brody moved toward me again, wiping the tear that was already sliding down my cheek. "Wait, Liv, it still holds some danger. I don't—"
"That's good," I choked, shaking my head on a soggy laugh. "I mean, that's good, right? You like some danger."
Brody stared at me for a minute and then laughed, his face breaking into that stunning smile I'd missed so much. "Yeah, sweetheart, that's good. I like a little danger." He gathered me in his arms, and I melted into him, laughing, crying, allowing my heart to rejoice at his presence. He kissed my lips,
my cheeks, my forehead. "I. Cannot. Live. Without. You. I want it all, Liv. Marriage, home, a couple of kids, maybe a dog." His eyes filled with gravity, my heart bursting with love for the man standing before me, the man who'd taken me on a journey where I'd looked for someone else and ultimately found myself. "What do you think?" he asked, vulnerability suddenly flickering in those sterling eyes.
"I think that sounds like the ultimate danger," I breathed, my voice catching.
He laughed. "Yeah. Let's do it. Let's go all out. I love you, Liv."
I released a small half sob, half laugh. "I love you too, Brody Thomas."
FIND
Brody
"Here you go," the doctor said gently, placing the small weight into my arms, the corner of the blanket falling back to reveal the face of my newborn son. He stared up at me, his liquid gray eyes filled with curiosity and . . . trust. "He's so . . . little," I said, my voice gruff even to my own ears, filled with the emotion clogging my throat. The intensity of my love for this tiny human.
"He's perfect," Liv said as she glanced between the two of us. My wife's gaze held the pride of a warrior, the warmth of a summer sun, as she watched me cradle our baby boy.
I looked back into Liam's eyes. "He is." And together, we would give him the childhood neither of us had ever had—the belonging, the love.
I sat down on the edge of the hospital bed, gathering my family close, my whole world right there in that room.
It felt like a miracle.
It felt like the ultimate danger.
And I embraced every second of it.
Acknowledgments
Special, special thanks to my editors, Angela Smith and Marion Archer, who accommodated the tight timeline of this release. I couldn't have made it happen without you!
Thank you to Karen Lawson who polished this baby up lickety split!
Gratitude to my beta readers who helped me immensely with this storyline; Elena Eckmeyer, Cat Bracht, Ashley Brinkman, Denise Coy, JoAnna Koller, Rachel Morgenthal, and Shauna Waldleitner Rogers.
Huge appreciation to Adriana Del Risco Hurst and Tatiana Ossa Jurado who helped me with all the Colombian references. Thank you for your patience, your knowledge, and for helping me fall in love with your beautiful country.
To Kimberly Brower—best agent in the history of ever! Thank you for making everything easier.
And to all the readers, blogs, Instagrammers, and book clubs, who review, recommend and support my books—unending love and thanks.
My family . . . Thank you for dealing with me when I'm on insane timelines. Thank you for loving me when I'm at my worst, for supporting me endlessly, and for making the word home so beautiful. I'm so lucky that you're mine.
About the Author
Mia Sheridan is a New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal Bestselling author. Her passion is weaving true love stories about people destined to be together. Mia lives in Cincinnati, Ohio with her husband. They have four children here on earth and one in heaven.
Learn more at:
MiaSheridan.com
Twitter, @MSheridanAuthor
Instagram, @MiaSheridanAuthor
Facebook.com/MiaSheridanAuthor
DID YOU ENJOY THE GLIMPSE OF CARSON STINGER? READ ABOUT HIS JOURNEY IN STINGER, AVAILABLE AT ALL ONLINE RETAILERS!
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PROLOGUE – MORE THAN WORDS
Jessica—Eleven Years Old
“The night was dark and…” I took a tentative step forward, the dry summer grass crunching softly beneath my feet. Stormy? No, it wasn’t even misty. I squinted at the pale sliver of moon overhead. It wasn’t even really dark yet, the evening sky just beginning to take on a deeper twilight blue. A dog barked somewhere in the distance, and then it grew quiet again, my footsteps echoing around me as if I were the only person alive in this strange, treacherous land. “Lonely,” I finally decided, whispering the word. I squared my shoulders, summoning courage. “The night was…dim and lonely, and yet the princess continued on her journey, believing with all her heart that the prince wasn’t far behind and that he’d rescue her. All she had to do was hold on to hope.”
I kept walking, my breath hitching as my pulse sped up. I’d never walked this far from home before, and nothing looked familiar. Where am I? As the sky turned gray, lights suddenly blinked on up ahead, and I moved toward them as if they were a beacon, a guide. “The stars glittered in the sky, and the princess followed the brightest ones, sure they would lead her to safety and”—my stomach growled, louder than the soft rise and fall of the cricket song in the evening air—“food.”
A slope stood between me and the glowing lights—what I could now see were streetlamps—and I began making my way up slowly. I clutched my book in one hand, using my other hand to balance myself on the steepest sections. “The princess was tired from her journey, and yet she gathered her strength and scaled the cliffs, knowing that she would be able to see where she was from higher ground. Perhaps she’d spot the prince, galloping toward her on his trusty steed.”
The lights were very close, and when I reached the top of the incline and emerged through some bushes, I was standing in front of a set of train tracks. I let out a harsh exhale, looking one way and then the other, turning around to survey the land below. Looking down the slope in front me, I could just make out the edge of the golf course that backed up to a wide field. I sighed in relief now that I had my bearings. My house was in a neighborhood on the other side of the golf course. How could I have been so caught up in my own fantasy that I hadn’t realized how far I’d walked?
I should head home now that I know which way to go.
I stood for a moment looking in the direction of my house, hearing the echoes of my mother’s tears, my father’s annoyed voice, and the slamming door telling me my little brother had gone next door to spend the night at his friend Kyle’s house. I don’t want to be there. It’d be hours before they noticed I was gone anyway. If they noticed at all.
I turned back toward the tracks. There was a lone boxcar sitting still and silent a short distance away, and I eyed it curiously, shifting my weight from one foot to the other, a strange fluttering in my chest. “The princess spotted the caves up ahead,” I murmured, “and was drawn to them for some reason she couldn’t explain.” Fate.
I walked slowly through the gravel, stepping over the first set of tracks and moving toward the boxcar. The sound of the crickets from the field below grew faint, and the night seemed suddenly quieter and more still, as if the entire world were holding its breath. My heart began beating faster again in anticipation of…something. I touched the side of the boxcar, the metal cool and smooth beneath my fingertips as I trailed my hand along it, moving toward the wide blackness of the open door. My whisper was a bare breath of sound. “The caves were dark, and yet the princess was brave. She would stop here for a while and wait for the prince to catch up with her. He was very close now. She could feel it.”
Pausing at the edge of the open door, I leaned my head slowly inside, my breath catching and my eyes widening. A boy sat leaning against the far wall, his long legs stretched out before him and crossed at the ankles, his eyes shut. My heart galloped in my chest. Who is he? One of the streetlamps cast a glow into the shadowy interior, enough for me to see that the boy’s lip was bloody and his eye swollen. I stared, noting the way the boy’s dark hair fell over his forehead as if he were too exhausted to move it back. His face was bruised, his eyes shut, and I thought there might be tear tracks on his cheeks, and yet, even so, he was the handsomest boy I had ever seen in my whole life. He was a prince. A…broken prince. My mind spun. The princess thought she’d been waiting for the prince and yet…and yet, she’d had it all backward. The prince had survived battle and crawled to the dark cave nea
rby to hide, where he’d been waiting…to be rescued by her.
The boy opened his eyes, which were shiny with tears. He started slightly as he spotted me, his hands curling into fists. But then he blinked the tears away, his brow furrowing and his hands relaxing as he sat up straight. I pulled myself into the boxcar and stood in front of him, my knees weak with the unexpectedness of finding him. “I’m here to save you,” I said in a rush of words.
I felt the blush rising in my cheeks when I realized I’d said the words out loud. He didn’t know what I’d been playing, and I suddenly realized how strange and awkward I must seem. I’d been far too involved in my own made-up world. Although…clearly he did need saving. Maybe not by a pretend princess, but by someone anyway.
The boy’s dark eyebrows rose as his gaze moved down my body and then back up to my face. He laughed a small laugh that ended in a sigh. “Oh yeah? Then I’m screwed,” he muttered.
Well. I put my hands on my hips, the sympathy I’d felt a moment before turning into irritation. Maybe I was strange and awkward, but I didn’t deserve to be laughed at. “I’m stronger than I look,” I declared, drawing myself up to my full height. I was the fifth-tallest girl in my class.
The boy smirked and ran a hand through his hair, moving it off his forehead. “I’m sure. What are you doing here? Don’t you know little girls shouldn’t be wandering around train tracks alone at night?”
I stepped farther inside, looking around at the graffiti sprayed all over the walls. There were several pieces of writing on the wall nearest me, and I leaned in to read them. “Better not to read those,” the boy said. I turned to him questioningly. “Probably not for kids.” He raised an eyebrow. Probably? As if he hadn’t read them himself. Right.