FOURTEEN
She hated crying.
Hated it, but she couldn’t seem to stop. The tears kept rolling down her face, soaking into Ian’s shirt.
Ian!
She was cradled in his arms.
Crying all over him.
She pushed away, her left arm shrieking in protest.
Because she’d been shot.
By her uncle.
Her own flesh and blood, but he’d wanted her dead. In the end, he’d died because of that.
“Slow down,” Ian said as she scrambled away from him.
“Your shirt is soaked,” she pointed out.
“And?”
“I’d die of embarrassment. If that were actually a thing.”
“What’s to be embarrassed about?” He snagged her hand, holding her in place when she would have backed farther away.
“Look at me!” She gestured to her mud-encrusted pants, her hair, her tear-soaked face. “I’m a mess!”
“A beautiful mess,” he responded gruffly, and her heart did a funny little dance. One that spoke of happiness and contentment and better things to come.
And suddenly the tears weren’t sliding down her cheeks anymore. Suddenly, she was smiling. “Only you would say something like that,” she said.
“And I’d only say it to you. How’s the arm?”
“Sore, but I’ll live.”
“And the heart?”
“The same.” Her voice broke, and the stupid tears started again.
“They’ll both get better. Just give it a little time.” He tugged her into his arms, his lips brushing hers. Once. Then again. Her hand slid up his arm, her fingers slid through his hair.
She could have stood there with him forever, tasting the sweetness of his lips, feeling the warmth of his hand resting on her back.
Someone cleared his throat, and she jerked back, nearly tripping over King.
“Sorry,” she said to the dog, and his tail thumped.
“I’m probably the one who should be apologizing. I didn’t mean to interrupt,” a man said, and she turned, watching as he walked into the room. Tall and blond with a scar that slashed down the side of his cheek, he had the bluest eyes she’d ever seen.
“Max,” Ian said. If he were embarrassed at having been caught kissing her, he didn’t show it. “What are you doing here?”
“I decided to come help with the transport. The more people protecting Ms. Dupree, the better. I took the red-eye last night. If I’d known how much trouble you were going to be in, I’d have tried to get to Florida sooner.” He smiled, offering Esme his hand. “I’m Max West. Team captain and shameless romantic.”
“Really?”
“No, but I thought it might make things less awkward.”
“I really don’t think anything can do that.”
“Well, then how about we focus on the business at hand? Has Ian explained what our next step is?”
“There hasn’t been a whole lot of time,” Ian said, and Max nodded.
“Right. So here’s how it’s going to be, Esme. We’re going to take you to our headquarters in Montana. You’ll be there until our next safe house is ready.”
“Is it going to be in a swamp?” she asked, too tired to argue with the plan.
“No.” He laughed. “It’s going to be really nice. Not in the States, though. We’ve arranged for you to have round-the-clock security in another country. We’ve already collected your passport. If there’s anything else you think you’ll need, let us know and we’ll make sure you have it.”
Yeah.
There was.
She’d need Ian, but she didn’t think that was what Max was expecting to hear.
“Some air would be nice. If that’s okay,” she said, offering a poor facsimile of a smile.
She didn’t think either of the men bought it, but neither tried to stop her. With Angus dead, she was safe. At least until Reginald could figure out a way to hire killers from prison.
Throat thick with emotion, she reached the exit and walked out into early-morning light. The sun was just peeking above the horizon, the ground dusted gold with it. King appeared at her side, his sturdy body pressing against her leg, warm and heavy and comforting.
“It’s going to be okay,” she murmured.
“Yes, it is,” Ian said, and she wasn’t surprised that he was there, wasn’t shocked when he turned her so that they were facing each other.
“I don’t want to leave the country,” she said. Simple. Straightforward. To the point.
“I’m sorry,” he responded, and she knew his hands were tied, that the decision wasn’t his. “But your sister will be fine. She’s very good at taking care of herself.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about.”
“Then what?” he asked. “Your business? Your friends?” He touched her chin, offered a smile that should have made her heart sing. It just made her think of what she’d almost had, and what she was about to lose.
“You,” she finally admitted, and he shook his head, tugged her into his arms, pressed her head to his chest.
“Why would you think I’d let you?”
“Because your work is here, and I’m going to be somewhere else.”
“My work is with you. Keeping you safe is my assignment until after the trial. King and I have both been cleared to travel with you. I sent Max a text while you were getting your arm cleaned up. He was quick to agree to the plan.”
“What if the trial takes years to happen?”
“I don’t care if it takes a lifetime, Esme. As long as we’re together.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. Now, how about we go back inside and get started on our new adventure?” He took her hand, leading her back to the door. King loped beside him, his ears up, his nose to the air.
He stopped short, whining softly.
“What is it, King?” Ian asked, touching the dog’s broad head.
“Is someone out here with us?”
“He’d be barking, but there’s definitely something worrying him.”
King whined again.
“Find it,” Ian said, and the dog took off, racing around the side of the building, nose still to the air, ears alert.
They moved through an alley and then into a back lot.
That was when Esme heard it. Above the distant sound of morning traffic, above the pounding of her heart, the soft whimpering cry of an animal in distress.
“What in the world?” she asked, but Ian was striding across the back lot, following King to a Dumpster that butted against a brick wall.
“Whatever it is,” he said, lifting the lid and peering inside, “it’s in here.”
“Maybe we should call animal control,” she suggested as King stood on two legs and looked inside the bin.
She looked, too, because she had to.
The crying was pitiful, and whatever was making the sound needed help.
“I think we can handle this,” Ian said, reaching for a box that was shoved up against the back of the metal container. Someone had taped it closed, and the thing inside bumped against the top.
“What if it’s a rat?” She cringed as he pulled a utility tool from his pocket and carefully sliced through the tape.
“King wouldn’t be going crazy over a rodent. I think it’s a—”
He didn’t get a chance to finish.
The lid popped open, and a dark-faced thing appeared.
No. Not a thing.
A puppy. Scrawny. All legs, boxy head and little potbelly, he tried to jump out of the box but ended up falling back in.
King nudged the puppy with his nose, offering a tentative lick.
“Good boy, King,” Ian said
. “Good find.”
He lifted the puppy from what would have been its coffin, checked its gums, felt its ribs.
“He’s skinny and dehydrated, but it’s nothing a little food and water can’t fix.”
“Should we take him to the shelter?” she asked, touching the puppy’s velvety nose and losing a little piece of her heart when he licked her hand.
“It would probably be the practical thing to do, but there’s a lot more to life than practicality. I’m supposed to be looking for a puppy to bring back to our training facility. Kind of a reminder that we’re part of a family of sorts, one that always sticks together.”
There was a note of sadness in his voice, and she knew he must be thinking about Jake Morrow.
“You are a real family,” she told him, because it was the only thing she could offer. “I felt that when we were in the safe house. Just because one member decided to go his own way, doesn’t mean the remainder can’t stay strong.”
“I know, but thanks for the reminder. Some days I need it more than others,” he confided, smiling in the way that always made her heart leap.
“So...what now?”
“Now we’ll take this guy inside and introduce him to his new family,” he said, holding the puppy in the crook of his arm. “We’ll get him checked out by a vet, and we’ll take him to puppy training school.”
“He’ll be an A student. Of course,” she joked, feeling lighter than she had in weeks, happier than she’d been in months.
All the hard times, all the difficulties, had led her to this point, and for the first time since she’d witnessed her brother’s crime, she was thankful for them.
“Of course,” Ian agreed. “No kid of ours could ever be anything less.”
“Kid of ours?” she asked.
“A figure of speech,” he responded. “And maybe a conversation to revisit at another time.”
“I think I’d like that.”
“That’s what I was hoping you’d say.” He grinned, and she couldn’t help returning his smile.
“I guess we’ll have plenty of time to discuss it and everything else while we’re waiting for Reginald’s trial,” she said.
“And plenty of time after the trial is over,” he replied, tugging her close, offering a kiss that promised everything she’d ever hoped for and more.
When he backed away, they were both breathless, and they were both smiling. She noticed that. Just like she noticed the quiet hum of morning traffic, the soft trill of a songbird on a branch nearby. The sun glinting in Ian’s dark hair, the puppy sleeping in the crook of his arm, King grinning at his feet.
It all looked fresh and bright and beautiful.
“What was that for?” she asked, and he took her hand.
“You,” he said, “and our new beginning.”
She laughed. “New beginnings are wonderful things. Especially when we get to start them with people we care about.”
“You’re right,” he agreed. “So how about we get started on ours?”
“That,” she replied, levering up on her toes and offering him one more sweet kiss, “sounds like a wonderful idea.”
He called to King, and they walked back to the hospital. All of them together. And it was enough to fill all the empty spots in her heart. It was enough to sustain her through whatever the future might bring.
She hadn’t wanted the trouble she’d found herself in, but she couldn’t regret where it had led her. Where God had led her. Not just to a new beginning, but to the only place where she’d ever truly felt at home.
EPILOGUE
Ian didn’t do nervous. He didn’t know what it meant to be anxious. He’d spent years working in law enforcement and facing down thugs, druggies and murderers.
He didn’t sweat.
He didn’t panic.
He didn’t lose his cool.
He was an FBI agent, trained to handle whatever crisis came his way.
So why was he sweating now? Beads of perspiration dotting his brow?
Why were his hands shaking as he tried to knot his tie. For the tenth time.
Why was his throat dry? His heart pounding? His pulse racing?
“Need some help with that, Ian?” Max said, a hint of amusement in his voice as he eyed Ian’s unknotted tie.
He’d dressed up for the occasion—button-up shirt, dark slacks and a small rose that someone had tucked in his pocket. Probably Katarina. Ian wasn’t the only one who’d found love while the team was looking for Jake. Max had found it, too. So had several other team members.
“I’ve got it,” he said, smoothing the tie, and patting his jacket pocket. The ring was there. No box, because he hadn’t wanted Esme to notice it. They’d come to headquarters to sign last-minute paperwork before they boarded the plane that would take them to a top secret location.
Even Ian wasn’t sure exactly where they’d be.
As long as he was with Esme, he really didn’t care.
“Is she here yet?” he asked. He’d spent most of the past few weeks at the safe house, but last night he’d had to pack his bags and get ready for the flight. He’d left Esme with three team members, but he’d still been worried.
Now he was just anxious to see her again.
Ten hours wasn’t long, but it felt like a lifetime when you were away from the person you loved, the person you wanted to spend a lifetime with.
“Just arrived. I asked Julianne to keep her in the lobby for another minute.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ve sent your bags ahead, and they’re already being loaded onto the plane.”
“Is that a hint that I should get this show on the road?”
“Not at all. Take your time. It’s a private jet. It’s not like it’s going to leave without you.”
“Then again,” Dylan O’Leary said, glancing up from a computer he’d been working on, “things have been calm for a couple of weeks. That usually means trouble is brewing. You might want to get out of town before it arrives.”
“Don’t rush a man who’s about to take one of the biggest steps of his life,” Zeke responded, crossing the room and taking one of the cookies that team member Harper Prentiss had brought for the occasion.
“Hands off,” she said, slapping his hand away. “Those are for after he pops the question.”
She turned to Ian, gave him a quick once-over.
“You could have tried a little harder,” she announced, straightening his tie.
“Meaning?”
“A tux? A bowtie? A huge bouquet of her favorite flowers?”
“I’ve been a little busy,” he muttered. It was the truth. He’d spent the past three weeks working at the safe house and helping the team as they tried to locate Jake Morrow. So far, they’d come up empty. If Violetta had been right, if he was in Montana, they hadn’t been able to find him.
Yet.
Zeke was still looking.
Or he would be once his doctor cleared him to go back to work. The little flesh wound he’d gotten in the shoot-out had been a bigger deal than he’d thought, and he wasn’t happy about it.
As far as Ian could tell, he wasn’t happy about a lot of things. Ian couldn’t blame him. This had been a tough season for the entire team, but looking around the small conference room, he couldn’t help thinking how blessed they all were.
They’d cut the Dupree crime family off at the roots.
With Angus dead and Reginald in prison, the organization was dying, crushed by its inability to run itself. He’d heard of at least a dozen arrests in cities all over the country.
And that was the kind of news he would never ever get tired of listening to. For a long time, he’d thought that was all he wanted, that seeing the crime family destroyed was all he’d needed to make his life complete.
Every time he looked at Esme, every time their eyes met or their hands touched or he heard her soft laughter, he realized just how wrong he’d been.
That still didn’t make this any less nerve-racking!
He ran his hand over his hair, tugged at his tie.
“Ian, really!” Harper brushed his hands away from the tie. “Stop fidgeting. You’re making a mess of this.”
She straightened the tie again.
“Leave the poor guy alone,” Dylan said, glancing down at his phone and frowning.
“Trouble?” Max asked.
“About as big a trouble as a guy like me can get into,” he responded.
“Meaning?” Ian prodded. He’d much rather focus on someone else’s troubles than his out-of-control nerves.
“I’m going to have to go to a...” Dylan sighed. “To a dress shop to pick up Zara’s wedding gown. She says they’re in hiding and formulating a plan, but the dress is in, and she needs me to get it.”
“That’s it?”
“Yes.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Ian said.
“Have you ever been to one of those places?”
“No. Have you?”
“Of course not, and I wasn’t planning to.” He sighed, and Ian would have said something else, maybe offered a solution to the problem, but the door opened and Julianne walked in, Esme right behind her.
His breath caught, and he was sure his heart stopped. She was that beautiful, short red hair framing her face, her sundress skimming slim muscular legs. She’d put a sweater on over the dress, probably hoping to keep warm on the plane. The white knit seemed to highlight the vibrancy of her hair and her eyes.
“You’re beautiful,” he said.
“So are you,” she replied, and he was pretty certain someone laughed. He didn’t care. Didn’t look to see who it was.
She was all that mattered.
King had walked over, was leaning against Esme’s leg, offering a K-9 hug that made her smile.
Ian would normally smile, too, maybe comment on how much King loved her, how quickly he’d accepted her as part of the pack.
He didn’t do either, he was too busy studying her face, memorizing the way she looked, so that he could tell their children exactly how gorgeous she’d been the day he’d proposed.
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