by Amy Vastine
Dean came to a stop. He put his hand on the trunk of the giant oak and traced the letters that had been carved in it long ago: DP + FS.
Faith started to laugh. “We were the cheesiest couple on the planet.”
“Remember sneaking down here that one night? I thought it would be a romantic gesture and you were mad that I had defaced the tree?”
“I was not,” Faith argued. “I was worried that Addison would see it and figure everything out. She loved to come to this park and hang out.”
“She also loved to take pictures.” He spun her around and threw an arm over her shoulders. With the other hand, he held out his phone. “Say cheesy gesture!”
Faith smiled for the selfie. What was she going to do with him? Kissing him seemed right.
The sounds of the laughing children filled the air, competing with the music booming from speakers set up in the back of someone’s pickup truck. But it didn’t matter that hundreds of people were celebrating the holiday a few feet away. Hiding was no longer required in this relationship.
Dean held her face while he pressed her back against the tree with their initials. He tasted like popcorn and smelled like fresh-cut grass. He was everything she loved rolled into one person.
“Thank you,” he whispered when they finished.
“For what?”
“For bringing me home. For being my home.”
Faith’s heart swelled in her chest, pushing on her rib cage. She hadn’t realized what was truly missing from her life until he came back into it.
“Thank you,” she replied.
“For what?”
“For making my home complete.”
“We are the lucky ones,” Dean said. His silly little grin made her ridiculously happy. Faith kissed that smile and thanked her lucky stars.
Luck was a funny thing. People might be cursed with the bad kind and then blessed with a string of the good. The bad kind popped tires in the middle of rainstorms and flooded all the roads home. But sometimes that bad luck wasn’t bad at all. Sometimes that bad luck was nothing more than the good kind in disguise. That was Faith’s and Dean’s kind of luck—the kind that brought two lost loves back together and healed old wounds. It mended their broken hearts and gave them a shot at something they both held dear—a family.
How very lucky, indeed.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from WHEN I FOUND YOU by Kate James.
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When I Found You
by Kate James
CHAPTER ONE
“THE PILOT’S BRINGING the plane back?” Ariana Atkins, chief of security and asset protection for the San Diego International Airport, swiveled away from her desk and stared at her senior security manager.
“Yeah. The plane is on its way,” Max Golding responded. He was leaning against Ariana’s door frame, a hand tucked into the pocket of his stylish dress pants. “You know as well as I do, it’s the pilot’s call.”
“Two vacation-going women bound for Barbados overindulge in their duty-free alcohol purchase, are drunk before the plane is out of our airspace, get into a fight on board, and the pilot declares it a security risk and decides to turn the aircraft around? Have I got that right?”
“That sums it up.” Max straightened. “I was told the flight crew had trouble calming them down.”
He moved to Ariana’s desk, fiddled with her mouse and called up the security camera footage he’d emailed her of the women at the gate.
“They were inebriated before they boarded! The gate crew shouldn’t have let them on that flight.”
“I can’t argue with you about that. The San Diego Police Department is sending a team to meet the plane.”
This was news to Ariana. “Why? We can handle two drunken women ourselves with the SDPD officers assigned to the airport.”
Max shrugged. “I would’ve thought so, but one of the charming young ladies uttered a threat against the crew and passengers. She said, and I quote, that she’d blow them all to kingdom come.”
Ariana rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “Great. Just great.” That added weight to the pilot’s decision to bring the plane back.
As far-fetched as it was that one of the women involved in the altercation might have a bomb on board, the United States Transportation Security Administration required that all such incidents be taken seriously.
They’d have to hold the plane away from the terminal building until they had confirmation that there were no explosive devices on board. Only then could it taxi to a gate.
Her stomach rumbled and she glanced at her watch. She’d missed lunch. It wasn’t likely that she’d be having dinner anytime soon either.
“I can handle this, Ariana, if you want to go home.” Obviously Max had heard her stomach, too. “You’ve averaged ten-hour days all week. You deserve some downtime.”
She rose, grabbed her jacket from the back of her chair. “Thanks, but I’m okay. We’ve all been putting in long hours since the budget cuts. Besides, we could be dealing with a lot worse than two drunken women and a planeload of understandably disgruntled passengers.”
“True.” Max’s iPhone pinged several times in quick succession. He checked the incoming messages. “Game time. The plane has landed, and two members of the SDPD K-9 Unit are on their way and authorized for the airfield. Oh, did I mention the plane has a fighter jet escort?” he said over his shoulder as he exited her office.
Ariana groaned at the absurdity of that. She followed Max out and locked her door. “I trust they’re doing it as a training exercise rather than out of a belief that it’s a matter of national security. And to make our day even brighter, we can look forward to spending time with Brody,” she pointed out, referring to SDPD K-9 Unit officer Tom Brody, who was the airport’s primary contact when dealing with bomb-related threats or drills. Brody’s explosives detection canine partner, Nitro, was as efficient and effective as they came. Despite her phobia of dogs, Ariana had a far greater level of unease with Brody.
“No, we won’t,” Max interrupted her musings.
“Sorry. What?�
��
“We won’t be seeing Brody again. He’s no longer with the police department.” Max’s grin was bright and white, a sharp contrast against his dark complexion. “You hadn’t heard?” he asked as they jogged down the escalator.
She shook her head. “What happened?”
“The department is trying to keep it quiet, but I was told he’d been on the take from one of the Mexican drug cartels. In addition to his other endearing qualities, he reportedly had a gambling addiction he had to feed. Even worse, there was something about a personal vendetta against one of his colleagues.” Max’s smile dimmed. “From what I understand, it’s sordid stuff. If the allegations are substantiated and he’s convicted, he’ll do a long stretch of time.”
Ariana let out a hiss of disgust. How on earth did guys like that get on the police force when they’d rejected her because of a simple heart murmur? She understood the rationale intellectually—but emotionally it festered. “Who are they sending instead?” she asked.
The smile was back on Max’s face. “The captain of the K-9 Unit, Logan O’Connor. The renowned Jagger himself!” he added, bringing up the captain’s police department nickname.
Oddly, Ariana had never met the captain during the year she’d been in her job. It wouldn’t take much to be an improvement over Brody, but she’d heard O’Connor was a first-rate cop and an admirable leader. She was about to find out if that was true.
* * *
LOGAN O’CONNOR WAS feeling mean as a badger. He was on his way to the San Diego airport to deal with an absurd situation involving a couple of inebriated women uttering a bomb threat on a plane. And he was doing it after a long day, following another mostly sleepless night. To add to his annoyance, this was a call that Tom Brody should’ve been taking, if he hadn’t been suspended from the department. Logan shook his head, as much in frustration as to clear his groggy brain.
He couldn’t spend many more nights consoling Becca over her broken heart, or he would lose his sanity. Sometimes relationships just weren’t meant to be.
No wonder he preferred the single life—easy and commitment-free. The promise he’d made to himself because of his mother was important, but so was avoiding complications.
What he wouldn’t have given to spend last night in his own bed. Instead, he’d sat with Becca on her sofa. When she’d ultimately cried herself out and drifted into a troubled sleep, he’d carried her to her bed. Then, as the first tentative streaks of pink and orange had stained the sky, he and Boomer, his explosives detection canine partner, had left Becca’s apartment to return to his own house.
By the time he’d changed, gulped down a strong cup of black coffee, ate a stale muffin and made it to work, he was just in time for the start of his shift.
When he’d finally left the division, the call came in about the situation at the airport. Thanks to Brody’s transgressions, Logan was now the only explosives detection handler on the K-9 Unit. Instead of going home, he was heading to the airport to inspect a plane that almost certainly didn’t contain any explosive devices. At least it would be an opportunity for him to observe rookie K-9 officer Shannon Clemens—whom he was still assessing for a specialization—to see if she had a feel for explosives detection.
Logan stopped his SDPD-issue Ford Explorer at the security gate leading to the airport’s infield and lowered his window. He showed his badge to the security guard. He saw Shannon pull up behind him, and the guard inspected her credentials, too. While he waited for the gate arm to be raised, he rubbed his forehead in an attempt to relieve the dull ache that pulsed there.
The gate arm rose and Logan followed the pavement markings to the aircraft’s designated holding area. He’d been advised the plane had just landed and that security was already there, along with the SDPD officers currently on duty at the airport.
Nearing the location, he saw two airport vehicles and an SDPD cruiser. Three civilian males and a female were standing by the cars, along with two policemen. Logan’s attention was immediately drawn to the statuesque brunette in the middle of the group. She was slim, and dressed in narrow-legged navy pants, a matching jacket and practical, low-heeled shoes. Her dark hair—and she seemed to have plenty of it—was coiled in a bun at the nape of her neck.
He parked beside the cruiser and released Boomer from the back of his vehicle. Affixing the dog’s leash to his collar, he waited for Shannon to park and do the same with her dog, Darwin.
As they approached the group, Logan could see that the woman had light blue eyes, a dramatic contrast to the olive skin and dark hair. He noted the strong cheekbones, arched eyebrows and full, unpainted lips. Along with the stunning looks, she appeared capable. From the confident stance and the air of authority, he could readily see she was in charge. Based on that and the fact that she was the only female in the group, he guessed she was Ariana Atkins, head of security for the airport. He hadn’t met her before, but he’d heard she was good...and tough. They’d neglected to mention she was beautiful, too.
The three men gathered around her must have been members of her team. The cops he recognized as being from the airport contingent of his division.
Logan greeted the officers first, then extended a hand to Ariana. Although she offered hers, her gaze swung to Boomer and she seemed to withdraw from him.
Well, what do you know? She doesn’t like dogs.
“Boomer, sit, stay,” Logan commanded. “Ms. Atkins. I’m Captain Logan O’Connor.” When he released her hand, she moved slightly to her left and away from where Boomer sat sedately.
Logan introduced Shannon and the two dogs, and also shook hands with the members of Ariana’s team.
“Thank you for coming, Captain, Officer Clemens,” Ariana said, keeping a cautious eye on the dogs.
When Boomer opened his mouth to pant, Ariana took two small, hurried steps back.
“Ah, here’s the plane in question,” she noted, looking over Logan’s shoulder.
They watched the Boeing 767 wide-body, twin-engine jet taxi slowly into place. A deafening roar briefly drowned out all other noise as a fighter jet soared overhead. Incredulous, Logan turned to Ariana. “A fighter jet escort?”
She shrugged. “Probably a training exercise.”
“That would make sense.” Logan was having trouble keeping his eyes off her. It was more than her appearance. There was an indefinable quality about her that appealed to him. He forced himself to concentrate on the situation that had brought him to the airport. “Nothing came up on the two women involved when we ran them.”
Ariana nodded. “That corroborates what we know. Not surprising. The two women are barely out of college and this, we’re told, was supposed to be a celebration of the start of their so-called independence.”
“Heck of a way to start.”
“I hope their field of study wasn’t law. This little fiasco is likely to leave a smear on their record.”
Logan noticed the slight curving of Ariana’s lips and returned the smile. He was feeling distinctly better than when he’d arrived. Damn, she was beautiful. In addition, she was clearly smart and had a sense of humor. She was the whole package.
He directed his concentration to the approaching plane. It shimmered in the dry heat rolling in waves off the asphalt. He couldn’t resist a sideways glance at Ariana. Her body was angled toward the aircraft. Loose strands of dark chestnut-brown hair fanned around her face. The sharp line of her cheekbone, small straight nose and what he could only think of as pouty lips, drawn in a straight line as she watched the plane advance, made for a profile as striking as her face head-on.
Focus, O’Connor. You’re here to do a job.
Ariana’s phone signaled an incoming call. She stepped away, had a brief conversation and walked back.
“They’re ready for us. We’ll get the mobile staircase in place. Those buses—” She motioned to th
eir right. “They’re for the passengers, to take them to the terminal building once you’re finished with them.”
Another car pulled up as she was speaking. It was marked with the United States Homeland Security crest and the words Transportation Security Administration. A tall, slim man with a slight hunch to his shoulders and thinning blond hair got out and approached them.
“This is Federal Security Director Angus Stewart,” Ariana said. “FSD Stewart, meet Captain O’Connor and Officer Clemens of the SDPD K-9 Unit.”
“FSD Stewart,” Logan acknowledged the other man, mildly surprised by the lack of strength in his handshake and the clamminess of his palm. He had an immediate dislike for the TSA director. Judging by Ariana’s body language, she wasn’t a big fan either. “You don’t have explosives detection dogs at this airport?” Logan asked to confirm.
“No. We mostly rely on electronics trace detection technology.”
Logan wasn’t about to get into a debate with Stewart about the relative merits of the two methods of detection. The data showed that dogs were far superior in terms of accuracy and cost effectiveness.
“The report stated that the women were already inebriated when they boarded. Why were they let on the plane to begin with?” Stewart asked.
“Good question, and one I would like the answer to, as well,” Ariana responded.
“If someone had done their job, it could’ve saved us all a lot of hassle.”
The cat’s-eye shape of Ariana’s lids, which hinted at some exotic heritage, narrowed as she held Stewart’s gaze. “FSD Stewart,” she began in a voice that could have doused a raging fire. “Of course you’re aware that passenger boarding is the responsibility of the airline.”
Prickly, Logan thought, but somehow that just made her more intriguing.
“Yeah, I’m aware of that. If the women were that drunk, shouldn’t the people doing the boarding have called security?”
Her light blue irises were icy as a glacier, but she remained silent. Logan had the odd sensation of wanting to squirm even though her steady-eyed scrutiny wasn’t directed at him.