Ian worked his jaw back and forth and stared out the window. “When you were shot...when I thought that you might not make it... Damnit, Petra. I thought I knew what was important, but I was wrong. I was stupid and wrong.”
“I don’t know what to say,” she said.
Ian leaned across the dashboard and placed his lips on hers. The kiss was soft and tender. “Just say that you’ll come back and that we can try again.”
Their relationship wouldn’t be flawless, she knew that. Then again, maybe that had been her problem from the beginning. She had expected perfection and not the joy that came from the imperfections of life. And love.
Tears flooded her eyes. “I love you, Ian.”
He pressed his forehead to hers. “I love you, too. Let’s get you back home.”
Hand in hand, they walked to the house. Ian opened the front door. The first chimes of the grandfather clock began to sound as they crossed the threshold. “It’s a whole new day,” Petra murmured.
“A new day,” said Ian. He took her hand in his once more. They fitted together perfectly. “And a new beginning.”
Epilogue
August 31
8:00 p.m.
The large rectangular table had been removed from the Rocky Mountain Justice conference room. It was replaced with half a dozen round tables, each covered with a pristine white cloth. The lights were low and candles glowed in the middle of floral centerpieces. Servers clad in tuxedos weaved through the crowd with trays of champagne and tapas. The din of conversation mixed with low tones of the string quartet that played in the corner.
Standing at the door, Ian surveyed the room. This place, and these people, were part of his creation.
Petra moved in next to him and reached for his hand. “Are you ready?” she asked.
Ian’s chest was filled with emotion. Excitement for what was next. But no regret for what he was leaving behind. “As long as you’re with me.” He lifted her hand to his lips and placed a kiss on her soft, smooth skin. “I’m ready for anything.”
They were all there—Roman and Madelyn. Cody and Viktoria, along with Viktoria’s son, Gregory—who seemed to have grown inches since Ian saw him last. Julia. Katarina and her husband. Even Luis Martinez and Marcus Jones had joined them for the celebration, if for no other reason than it was their victory, as well.
Ian stepped through the door. Conversation stopped and all eyes turned to him.
“My mum always said that if you approach and all chatter stops, be worried—be very, very worried.” He gave a wry smile. “And right now, you all have me terrified.”
His remark was met with polite laughter.
A server approached with a tray of drinks and Ian took two flutes of champagne. After handing one to Petra, he lifted his glass. “We need to begin this evening with a toast to all of you. Because of our team—our family—we have dismantled one of the largest criminal organizations in the world. Cheers to you,” he said and sipped.
“Cheers!”
“But before we begin our meal and really celebrate, I have some news. As many, or rather all of you know, I plan to make some changes.” Ian wasn’t sure if it was his imagination or not, but to him the room seemed to grow colder and quieter than before. “There are some people we need to welcome to our family, and to others, we need to say goodbye.
“First, allow me to welcome Luis Martinez, formerly of the Denver Police Department. And Marcus Jones, newly retired from the FBI. Both gentlemen will be joining us as operatives. I’d also like to welcome a very familiar face, Petra Sloane, who will be our new legal counsel.
“And as far as goodbyes. We need to bid farewell to both Katarina and Julia. With Marcus Jones and Luis Martinez, they will be opening a new RMJ office in Cheyenne, Wyoming.”
“And what about you?” Roman called out, interrupting Ian’s remarks. “Are you staying or going?”
“Me?” Ian laughed. “I’m here, brother—just try and get rid of me.”
“So we’re not here to end one chapter of Rocky Mountain Justice, but begin another?” Roman asked.
He was exactly right. Ian nodded and, lifting his glass high, said, “That’s something we can all drink to. To new chapters.”
After taking another sip of champagne, Ian dived back in. “There’s something else I need to say—something that is long overdue.” He passed his champagne to a nearby waiter and slid his hand into his jacket pocket. He gripped the velvet box and dropped to one knee.
“Petra Sloane,” he said, reaching for her hand, “will you marry me?”
He took out the ring box and lifted the lid. The diamond sparkled in the light.
“Oh, Ian,” she said. Her eyes sparkled as much as the ring. “It’s beautiful.”
“Is that a yes?”
“Yes,” she said. “Yes! Yes!”
He placed the ring on her finger, and finally, he felt whole. “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you, Petra.”
“I thought our lives were beginning today.”
It was the perfect thing for her to say.
“You need to kiss her,” Roman called out, teasing.
Ian stood and wrapped Petra in his embrace. His lips met hers and the room filled with a cheer.
Petra ended the kiss, smiling and wiping at her eyes. “I don’t want a big wedding. Something small and intimate, with our closest friends and family.”
Ian swallowed. Now it was the time for him to actually be nervous. “I have a date in mind,” he said. “What do you think about now?”
Petra’s expression burst into a huge smile. “There’s nothing I’d rather do more than be your wife.”
* * * * *
Don’t miss the previous books
in Jennifer D. Bokal’s
Rocky Mountain Justice miniseries:
Her Rocky Mountain Hero
Her Rocky Mountain Defender
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Colton’s Twin Secrets
by Justine Davis
Chapter 1
Hope.
What a fool’s game.
K9 officer Dante Mancuso stood in the doorway of the small apartment, wondering why on earth he felt the slightest twinge of hope that this time it might be different, this time they might actually find something. Anything. Trying to link the T
eflon Twins, Evan and Noel Larson, to their multitude of crimes had so far been like trying to break Flash of sniffing.
As if the big dog had heard the thought, he looked up, leaned his head against Dante’s leg and gave him that mournful look out of the saddest eyes he’d ever seen. His heart and gut reacted for a moment before his brain kicked in to remind him he was being played.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” Dante muttered to the bloodhound.
With a long, pained sigh that matched the expression on his wrinkled face, the dog plopped down on the floor.
“You’ll get your turn when they’re done,” Dante told him. The black-and-tan dog gave him what in a person would be a distinct side-eye look. “What? You don’t like Mondays or you can’t sort out a few extra smells?”
With a distinct huff, the dog settled his head onto his front paws.
A man in uniform stepped through the door, pulling off his shoe covers and latex gloves. Al Collins was fairly new, a lateral transfer from down in Custer, still in training here, and Dante didn’t quite have his measure yet.
“I swear, Mancuso, you talk to that dog more than I talk to my human partner.”
“Human?” Dante shot a grinning glance at Collins’s training officer, Duke Carnahan, a large, muscled man with a forehead and brow line that looked a bit simian, and often served to fool people into thinking him stupid, when in fact he was one of the sharpest cops around. He was also one of Dante’s closest friends in the department.
“Keep it up, pretty boy, and I’ll have to rip your arm off,” Duke shot back.
Dante knew the man was joking, but Duke also looked quite capable of carrying out the threat. “Flash might not like that.”
The cop’s gaze shifted to the dog, who now looked half-asleep. “You trying to tell me that lazybones would actually bite me?”
“That lazybones could run you into the ground over any kind of terrain. But when he caught you, he’d just lick you to death. Maybe drown you in slobber.”
Duke grimaced. “Ugh. Drown in dog drool? No, thanks. You can keep the arm.”
They both laughed.
“Don’t see you down here much, Mancuso,” Collins said. “Don’t like us?”
“Some of the neighbors and I don’t get along,” Dante answered, his voice carefully neutral.
Collins frowned, but Duke got it quickly. “Oh, yeah. I forgot about your brother.”
I wish I could.
* * *
Gemma Colton paced the floor of her condo in the building owned by her father, for once taking little pleasure in the sweeping view or the expensive furnishings. She was focused on one thing and one thing only. But it was her entire future.
“Something go wrong at the fund-raiser?”
She turned to look at Devlin. “What?”
“You seem...edgy.”
And so, she realized, did he.
Devlin Harrington was the biggest puzzle she had ever encountered in her admittedly pampered life. To be honest, that was half the reason he intrigued her so—her social life wasn’t usually so complicated. She was the youngest daughter of Fenwick Colton, and men were usually falling all over themselves for the chance to take her out. But not Dev. She’d never had to chase a man before, but the combination of his good looks, elegant manners, sharp dressing and confident air were irresistible to her.
And so she’d set herself to the task, telling herself it was in part because he was the son of wealthy Hamlin Harrington—who himself was involved with her half sister Layla, which was a puzzle—and a successful lawyer in his own right with his father’s company. He was one of the few men where the question of him being after her money—well, her father’s money—had never come up, not even with her father, who was paranoid about the subject.
And eight months later, here they were, not an inch closer to where she wanted to be. Oh, they had a relationship—it just wasn’t the kind she wanted with him. Because she’d quite fallen for the handsome lawyer, and if it was in large part because even after all this time he still seemed unreachable, she wasn’t at all sure what that meant.
If she wanted to see him, it was up to her to reach out. And half the time he had other plans he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—change. Telling herself he was a busy, successful man was wearing thin.
Quinn’s words kept ringing in her head. Her cousin had been kind, gentle even, but her advice boiled down to one thing: you can’t force love. But she wasn’t trying to force it, she told herself. She already loved Devlin. And he loved her, she was sure, he just needed to move her up on his priority list. And she wasn’t certain how to do that; she’d never not been at the top of that list with anyone she’d been with before.
“No,” she said finally. “The fund-raiser went fine. Great, in fact. We raised even more than last year.” Her chin came up. “Even without you.”
He ignored the jab, as he usually did. She could never decide if it was because he didn’t see it or it simply didn’t bother him. She usually leaned toward the former, since the latter implied he didn’t care enough to let it bother him, and she didn’t want to believe that.
“I’m sure the animal shelter will be pleased,” he said, and he sounded so preoccupied that she was almost certain he was only vaguely aware of what he was saying.
She stifled the childish urge to stamp her foot and say, “Pay attention!” But it was a close thing; Gemma was not used to being an afterthought for anyone.
Especially a man she was crazy about. A man she wanted to build that future with. A man who would fit seamlessly into her world. A man even her father couldn’t find fault with.
“Dev!”
He seemed to snap back to reality. “Look, I just couldn’t get there, all right?”
She sighed. “It’s not that. Not really. Where are we going, Dev?”
He frowned. “Going?”
“You and me. Don’t you think it’s time we progressed beyond dinner a couple of times a week and only going to official functions?”
The frown deepened. “This is fine.”
A pronouncement. Not an “I think,” just a judgment as if the only input required was his. She would have to break him of that, and soon.
“This isn’t my idea of fine. I want more, Dev.”
He stood up. “I know,” he said softly. He reached out to cup her cheek, and she thought at last she was getting somewhere. At least she had his full attention now. But instead he looked almost sad. “I’m sorry, Gemma.”
He meant it. She could tell. And her entire mood shifted. “It’s okay. It was just a fund-raiser. There’ll be another one. In fact, the big gala is right before Thanksgiving, and—”
“No, Gemma.”
She blinked. “What?”
He gave her a regretful look. And her certainty about the sincerity flickered; it was the same practiced look he gave someone when he was turning them down for a case, or a favor, or any other request made of him that he did not want to say yes to. She’d admired how he did it, at first. But she’d never had it turned on her before.
“I’m sorry,” he said again. And again it sounded genuine.
“It’s all right,” she said quickly, not quite sure why she was feeling she needed to scramble to accept something that would have made her angry with anyone else. But she couldn’t be angry with Devlin. She was crazy about him. “I know it’s not your thing, so I’ll quit asking if you want.”
“It’s not that, Gemma.”
Anxiety spiked through her. It was an unfamiliar feeling; she’d had little to be truly anxious about in her life.
“What, Dev? What is it?”
“I wish I could give you what you want.”
“I want you. You know that.”
“Yes.” He said it sadly but gently. “Yes, I do. And I know you mean it.”
“I love you,” she sai
d, the anxiety shifting to desperation, as if a snowfield she’d been admiring had suddenly let go into an avalanche.
“You do,” he said, sounding a little wondering. And looking almost puzzled. “You really do.”
“Yes,” she said, feeling a bit better.
“You deserve that kind of love yourself. You deserve a man who adores you.” He gave a shake of his head, as if he were surprising himself. “And I’m going to give you the chance to find him. Because you genuinely, truly love me.”
None of this was making any sense. “I don’t understand.”
“I can’t give you what you want, Gemma. I don’t love you. Not like that.”
She stared at him. For the first time she admitted to herself that he was really saying it. But she was still far from believing he meant it.
Copyright © 2018 by Harlequin Books S.A.
ISBN-13: 9781488093197
Rocky Mountain Valor
Copyright © 2018 by Jennifer D. Bokal
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