The Closer

by Rhonda Nelson

  “She’s arranged for a therapist and he says that he wants to get help, that if it brings them together then it’s worth it.”

  He hummed under his breath. “Sounds like a smart man. But what about your house? The shop?”

  “I’m renting the house to Monica at a very affordable rate,” she said, her eyes dancing. “Her kids will love it.”

  He grinned. “Understandably.”

  “And I’m putting the shop up for sale and taking the whole business digital. We already do a huge online business.” She shrugged. “It’s merely a matter of adding the rest.”

  “It sounds like you’ve got everything worked out.”

  She winced and bit her lip. “Everything but a place to stay,” she said, peeking at him through lowered lashes. “I’ll need to start looking—”

  “No, you don’t,” he said. “Your place is here with me.”

  She smiled hesitantly. “Are you sure? That’s a pretty big step. I’d understand if you’d rather I—”

  “Jess, I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. It’s go-big-or-go-home time. I want this to be your home. Our home. At least for the time being, until we can find a nice little plot of land and build our own tree house.”

  He brushed his lips over hers and she felt that kiss all the way to the bottom of her feet. The wedding march cued up in her head again and a vision of little chubby-cheeked babies with coppery curls suddenly filled her head, making her ovaries scream.

  “What do you say?” he asked, his gaze searching hers.

  Jess grinned. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

  His best one yet, she thought, then kissed him again.

  Epilogue

  One week later...

  JESS DIDN’T KNOW why Payne had insisted that she be a part of this Ranger Security meeting, but assumed it was because it had something to do with the Owl—aka Keller Thompson—and her newly engaged status to Griff. She inwardly preened and gazed at the ring on her finger, a simple diamond, set in platinum. It was perfect, just like her fiancé.

  “I appreciate all of you coming in this evening,” Payne said. “The truth is, I have a huge favor to ask and it’s going to take everyone’s cooperation to make it work. If any one of you object, then that’ll be the end of it, and the issue will never be brought forward again.”

  Looking as intrigued as concerned, every eye in the boardroom rested on the head of Ranger Security and waited for him to continue.

  “As you all know, Keller is an old friend and, despite his...history, he’s one I still trust and still value. When all this started with the Clandestine bra, I told Griff at the time that Keller didn’t do anything without a reason, without thinking several steps ahead to an endgame.” He paused, then released an imperceptible breath, revealing the first bit of nervousness. “That endgame was a job with Ranger Security.”

  Silence thundered for all three seconds, then Griff, Flanagan and McCann all swore and offered several creative variations of “Hell, no.”

  “I understand and anticipated this initial reaction,” Payne continued. “But I do wish you’d take a few minutes and think about it before giving me your answer.”

  “Why didn’t he just call you and apply for a job, like a normal person?” Flanagan wanted to know. “Why go to all the trouble to steal something just to give it back? It’s illogical.”

  “Because he was hired by Montwheeler, as well,” Griff remarked knowingly, startling the hell out of everyone except Payne, who merely grinned at him.

  “What? No way,” McCann scoffed.

  “He’s right,” Payne confirmed. “They wanted the additional publicity, wanted to create more buzz, wanted to generate more interest for their company and for the auction.”

  Flanagan shook his head, passed a hand over his face, then nodded. “And considering that the bra went for a cool million more than it was worth—”

  “Because it had been taken from the notorious Owl,” McCann interjected, his eyes widening with shock.

  “—their plan definitely worked,” Flanagan finished. He swore, blinked. “Wow. Just wow.”

  “Be that as it may, Payne...he’s still a thief,” McCann pointed out. “What sort of message does that send to our clients?”

  “He’s a former thief,” Payne corrected. “I think he’d be an invaluable asset to our team. Who better to catch a thief than another thief?” he asked. “Consider this latest case that just landed on my desk. The missing guitar? Keller knows the ins and outs of this market, he knows every reputable fence and, more important, he has the sources to get information that we can’t.”

  “Maybe so,” Flanagan said with a shrug. “But I still think that it’s risky.”

  Jess gave her head a shake. “So in addition to getting paid for it, stealing the bra was ultimately his way of interviewing for a job with you? Of proving his merit? The benefit he’d bring to the company?”

  Payne nodded. “That was it exactly,” he confirmed. “And, much as it pains me to admit, he bested us. I think we’re stronger with him and I believe in second chances.”

  Griff finally looked up. “And what happens if he ends up being a liability? If he ends up stealing from a client, rather than protecting what needs to be protected?”

  “If I genuinely thought that would happen, then I wouldn’t have brought it to the table,” Payne said. “But if it does, then it’s on me and I’ll make whatever restitution is required.”

  McCann studied his friend for a long, tense moment. “I trust your judgment,” he finally said. “You’ve never steered this company wrong, and I’ve got money in the bank and a full belly because of it. If you’re willing to take the risk on Keller, then you have my support.”

  Payne nodded, seemingly touched. “Thank you.”

  “Mine, as well,” Flanagan said. “Guy is right. There wouldn’t have been a Ranger Security without you.” He managed a smile. “It’s easy to forget stuff like that when you’re working with your best friends, but it’s the truth.”

  Griff shifted, rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not at all certain why you thought you needed my vote,” he said. “I’m low man on the totem pole here and, frankly, I don’t think I deserve a say one way or the other.”

  “First of all, there are no low men on the totem pole at Ranger Security,” Payne told him. “And while it’s true that me, Jamie and Guy are partners, it was your mission that Keller thwarted. I wouldn’t dream of bringing him on board without discussing it with you and Jess first.”

  “Thank you,” Griff said, obviously grateful. “I appreciate that. And it’s for that reason that I’ll withhold any objection to Keller joining our team.”

  Payne’s gaze swung to Jess. “And you, Jess? Are you okay with it?”

  She chuckled and shook her head. “Who am I to say no? Because of him, business is booming. All’s well that ends well, right?”

  Payne’s cool face melted into a pleased smile and he nodded. “All right then. I’ll bring him in.”

  “What? Now?” Jamie asked in surprise.

  “He’s here?” McCann echoed, his eyes wide.

  “He is,” Payne said. “I thought it best to strike while the iron was hot.”

  Less than a minute later the newest member of Ranger Security and the notorious thief called the Owl followed Payne into the room. Jess didn’t know what she’d expected—maybe that he’d look a little more birdlike—but Keller Thompson was definitely a surprise.

  He was tall and nice-looking, with dark blond wavy hair
and pale green eyes. He had an easy smile, which revealed a set of dimples on either side of his mouth, and moved with a laconic sort of grace. It took him less than two minutes to charm away any reservations the other men might have had about him, and when he finally stepped forward to shake her hand, there was an odd twinkle in his eye, one that she felt she should recognize but didn’t.

  “Nice to officially meet you, Jess,” he said. “I’m a big admirer of your work.”

  “Yours was pretty impressive, as well,” she said.

  “I dabble,” he said demurely. “Nothing more.”

  “I’d planned on cleaning your clock,” Griff told him. “Because you scared her half to death when you gassed us. But now that you’re officially a coworker, I’ll refrain.”

  “Thank you.” He winced, leaned in closer to Jess. “My apologies for that,” he added. “I’d underestimated his importance to you or I would have used an alternate method, one that wouldn’t have been so upsetting.”

  Her gaze slid to Griff, who’d wandered over to speak to Payne. “Until that moment I’d underestimated his importance to me as well, so you’re forgiven.”

  “And business is well?” he asked.

  She grinned. “Very well.” As she was sure he knew. Her cell suddenly vibrated in her pocket and she winced and excused herself. “Sorry,” she said. “It’s probably my dad.”

  Jess turned away and glanced at the phone, surprised when she realized it hadn’t rung, but that she’d gotten a text. A picture.

  It was the selfie Andre had taken with his cell phone the day of the show. He was leaned over her shoulder, smiling widely, his hand dangling over her other shoulder, and in that hand...was the owl feather that she’d later found on Payne’s chest.

  She gasped, stunned, and whirled around, looking for Keller. It was impossible, she thought. Different hair, different eyes, different voice. What about the dog? What about his boyfriend?

  Holy mother of...

  He’d staged it all. Every damn bit of it.

  Finally, her gaze caught his and he winked at her.

  Her phone suddenly hooted twice and then the image vanished from her screen, the only verifiable evidence that Keller Thompson had been Andre the stylist.

  Another text arrived. It’ll be our little secret, eh?

  Griff sidled up next to her. “Are you all right?” he asked, concern lighting his gaze. “You look odd.”

  She gave herself a little shake. “I’m fine,” she said. “I seem to have lost my dog,” she pretended to fret. “Have you seen him?”

  Griff chuckled and slung an arm around her shoulders. “Attach the leash, baby, and let’s go home.”

  She sighed and lifted her lips up for a kiss. “Another plan I can fully get behind.”

  “You know me,” he teased. “The man with the plan.”

  * * * * *

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  1

  THE BULLET ZINGED past marine lieutenant Rafe McCawley’s ear. Instantly, he went into defense mode. “Jeep!” he yelled to the doctor and the ambassador as he shoved them toward the vehicle.

  “Sniper,” he told his men, but he knew they were already on it. As part of the rescue mission, they’d been trained for moments like this.

  Buck and Meyers fired toward the hills.

  Murphy had the car door open and helped the civilians in as fast as he could. Rafe used himself as a human shield.

  Fire tore into his hip. He’d been hit.

  He didn’t falter.

  He was the only thing between the sniper and the civilians, and it was his duty.

  Pain scorched his right arm. Another bullet. He was a sitting duck, but it didn’t matter. He had to get these people to safety.

  Everything seemed to happen in slow motion then. A series of bullets pounded his back. His vest kept them from penetrating. The force knocked the breath from his lungs. He lunged forward in a final effort to protect the ambassador, half throwing the man into the vehicle so that Murphy could shut the door. As he did, blood stained Murphy’s neck.

  Rafe placed his hand at the wound to stop the blood flow, but he was losing blood, too, and he could feel himself getting weaker.

  “Man down. Man down,” Rafe heard himself utter as he slid into the darkness.

  “Mister! Hey, mister! Wake up. Bad dreams, man. Bad dreams.”

  A groggy Rafe tried to open his eyes. It was as if someone had pulled him up out of quicksand.

  “Mister, you okay? Wake up already.”

  Blinking his eyes open, Rafe took in his surroundings. A taxi. The driver, who had deeply tanned skin and a thatch of bright white hair, stared worriedly at him in the rearview mirror.

  Rafe was in Fiji. Safe.

  “Thanks,” Rafe said to the driver. “Sorry for falling asleep.” He must have passed out in the cab. The flight to Fiji had been brutal on his still-healing body, and he hadn’t gotten much rest. Rafe scrubbed his face with his hand.

  He was finally here.

  Sun. Sea. And a woman.

  Rafe figured that was all any man ever needed to heal wounds of the physical or mental variety. While he’d been in recovery for the injuries he’d suffered he’d thought of little else. The letters from Mimi were what kept him going through the intense therapy. Her sweet encouragement and kind words were the elixir his soul used to heal. And were exactly what his mind needed to help forget. Now he would see her in the next ten minutes.

  The long hours on the plane here had been torture. His hip, arm and shoulder, which had suffered the brunt of the bullets in the firefight, were still sore. Even with his pain meds he couldn’t get comfortable on the plane. He’d been awake for almost forty-eight hours straight. But he hadn’t grumbled or even worried about it. The only thing in his mind was the image of the gorgeous five-eleven dark-haired beauty he was about to see. It had been eighteen months. He’d kicked himself for not kissing her at the end of their one and only date.

  They met at a New York fashion sh
ow where Rafe had been duped into modeling some jeans that put him in hot water with the Marines. But it had been worth it to meet Mimi. After the fashion show, she’d taken him to a party with a lot of famous people. At the end of the evening, he’d walked her to her apartment but refused to go up. He was a gentleman, which seemed to surprise her. They hugged, and he left. The next day she flew out of town for a gig in London, and he hadn’t seen her since.

  She began writing to him six months ago. That first letter from her was a surprise. He’d written to her six months prior to that and when she hadn’t answered, he thought that despite a great night she had moved on. In her first letter she told him that she traveled so much his letter must have slipped through the cracks.

  They wrote back and forth frequently. He tried to get her on Skype or the phone, but things never appeared to work for Mimi when it came to electronics. She said it was one of her many faults. A few days before he’d been shot, he’d received a letter from her saying that as soon as he was free they should meet at her sister’s new yoga and surf camp in Fiji. The time he was ordered to take off for rehab gave him the perfect excuse to accept her offer.

  “Almost there,” the taxi driver said as he swerved to miss a cyclist. Rafe’s shoulder hit the side of the car and he winced. He was beginning to wonder if he’d ever be back to 100 percent. Every day he worked his muscles hard to make sure they didn’t atrophy, but nothing moved quite as well as it should. And yet he needed to be ready for anything if he were to return to active duty one day.

  The farther they drove away from the airport, the greener and more lush the surroundings. The cab’s open windows allowed the smell of exotic flowers to permeate the air. The car stopped in front of iron gates covered with vegetation.

  This was it.

  The past year had been hell, and Rafe had to admit hanging out in paradise for a few weeks didn’t sound too bad. Sure beat the hospital and his last three tours.

  The driver pushed a button on the console at the side of the gate and the gate swung open.