Miranda gave a little squeal when he opened his door and slid from his seat. He heard her car door shut behind him as he opened the kitchen door and reentered Jesse’s house. Three sets of eyes landed on him as he stood in the doorway. James and Matt were at the breakfast bar, Jesse had been wiping the counter and now stood frozen with a sponge in her hand.
Striding toward her, he slipped the sponge out of her grip then sank his hands into her hair on either side of her face.
“If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it my way, Jesse,” he said.
Her eyes went wide. “Do what, David.” She might have been confused, but he could hear hope in her voice.
“If we’re going to raise a child together, we’re going to do it the way I didn’t get to do it the first time around.”
“Meaning?” She bit her lip and he could see moisture welling in her eyes.
“I know we never talked about it, but you’re it for me, Jesse. If things had never changed, I would have been happy to stay your partner for the rest of our lives, marriage or no. But things do change and now there is a little girl who needs parents and a family. If you want me to raise Emma with you, we do it as a family that is tied together in every possible way. If you want me to do this with you, then I want us to get married and start the process together.”
She blinked back tears. “We don’t have to get married to raise her together, David. I don’t want to get married just because of Emma.”
In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to hold her, to pull her to him and never let her go. But he needed to make something very clear first.
“We may be doing the paperwork because of Emma, but did you hear what I said? You’re it for me. I’m pretty sure I knew it that first time I saw you. But I know I’ve known it for a while. Whether we’re married or not isn’t going to affect how I feel about you or my commitment to you in any way. But I think it will make it easier to process the adoption, and besides, it might give me some assurance that you won’t be going anywhere. I raised a child once on my own, and while I don’t regret it,” he flashed a smile at his daughter, “I think I’d like to experience it with a partner this time. So, what do you say? Do you want to do this together?”
She looked at him for a several beats then slid her gaze to the boys. He didn’t think she was looking for permission, but he knew she’d like their support. Both boys gave small nods. She turned back to him and he knew his life was about to change. And he couldn’t have been more ready.
EPILOGUE
SITTING AT THE TAVERN, David took a sip of beer and contemplated Dominic’s question. Would they or wouldn’t they?
“You know you won’t,” Kurt taunted.
David smiled. “Probably not,” he agreed, easily. “Miranda offered to take Emma for the night so we could get away for the New Year but we kind of want to spend it all together. Matt and Miranda are going to stay in town, so we’ll probably make it a family thing. And no, we probably won’t make it to midnight.”
He grinned, not caring too much. Especially since “not making it to midnight” usually meant he and Jesse had some time to themselves, alone, in their room. As far as he was concerned, there were worse ways to spend New Year’s Eve.
“Any second thoughts? Do you regret it at all?” Dominic pressed.
David’s memory floated back to that time. It turned out that Rosy McIntire had sought mental treatment after the fire in California. Mortified to find herself in the same area as David, she’d tried to keep a low profile at the hospital and in town. She had been cleared of any involvement, as had Dr. Bennet. The investigation into Stacey Carson had taken over a month. But within days, it had become clear that neither David nor Jesse could provide any additional insight, so they’d left everything in the hands the police and sheriff.
And taken off and gotten married.
The weekend after he’d asked her, they’d married in a tiny ceremony in the San Juan Islands in Washington State. They’d flown out, with the kids, brought his parents up from California and married at an inn Jesse’s parents had found on Lopez Island. The short ceremony was part of a long weekend that both families spent together. It was fast, simple, and just what they’d wanted. It took another month to get custody of Emma and now, just over three months after the wedding, they had four months before the six-month probation period would be over and they could officially adopt her. But no one doubted it would happen. Emma had settled into her new family, and they into her, faster than either he or Jesse could have anticipated. They’d even acquired a puppy that Dash had found for them. Emma had named him Bob after her favorite member of “Aunt” Matty and “Uncle” Dash’s dog pack.
Thinking of his family, David smiled to himself. His life, and Jesse’s, could have turned out so differently. They could have let the echoes of their pasts catch up to them. Between the two of them, they could have let the pain, the sorrow, the betrayals, and the fear guide them. But, together, they hadn’t. Together, they were building a new life. One built on a solid foundation of love, trust, and family. Oh, he knew they would have ups and downs, but he also knew, beyond a doubt, that he hadn’t been lying that day in Jesse’s kitchen when he’d told her she was it for him. They were strong together; they were better together.
So, were there any second thoughts?
He was about to answer when the door flew open and a gust of freezing wind blew into the restaurant. Jesse walked in holding Emma by the hand, followed by Miranda, Matt, and James. With a little squeal, Emma broke free and ran to him.
“Daddy!” she exclaimed as she jumped into his lap and threw her little arms over his shoulders, her tiny fingers catching the hair at the nape of his neck. Her language skills had rapidly caught up with her age group once she’d come to live with them and she’d started calling them mommy and daddy just a few weeks before. And every time he heard it, it felt better and better.
Jesse followed Emma over, said hi to Dominic and Kurt, and placed a kiss on David’s head. Moving his beer out of toddler reach, she took off her hat and coat and dropped into the seat beside him. Emma snuggled her body against his as the older kids waved and headed off to play a game of pool before sitting down and ordering.
“Did you order me a beer?” Jesse asked. He slid one in front of her, making her smile. She leaned over and gave him another kiss, on his cheek this time.
Second thoughts? Regret it?
Not a chance.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
It’s hard for me to believe that this is my fourth book. What’s not hard for me to believe is that I still have a lot of the same people to thank, including my family and my mountain-mover friends, Sarah and Angeli, as well as former-neighbors-but-always-friends, Lisa and Jere. I also want to thank Booktrope and all the amazing people who work for my fabulous publisher for hosting me on this journey. A new addition to my list is Division Chief Ron Karlen, Dixon Fire Department. I’m particularly grateful that he took the time to not only read some of the scenes from this book but also walk me through arson investigation 101. Ron, you’ll see your fingerprints on this version of the manuscript and it’s the better for your input. As always, any mistakes are mine, or, as I prefer to think of them, “literary license.” And last, but definitely not least, Julie, my editor. I recently found the following quote: “I don’t make the same mistake twice, I make it three or four times, just to be sure.” I’m sure it applies to me when it comes to edits. When I read her redlines, I have visions of her strangling back swear words, pulling out her hair, and muttering to herself, “I’ve already told you a million times that’s not how we do things!” Thankfully, she has kids so is probably used to the feeling.
KEEP READING FOR A PREVIEW OF
THE FRAILTY OF THINGS
BY TAMSEN SCHULTZ
Independence. Kit Forrester is a woman who wears her independence like armor. Despite keeping secrets and hiding her past, she’s built a life she loves and is accountable to no one. Until, that is, one o
f the world’s most wanted war criminals sets his sights on her and she must weigh the risk to one against the chance of justice and closure for many—a decision Kit couldn't make on her own even if she wanted to.
Certainty. As a man who makes his living in the shadows of governments and wars, certainty isn’t a part of Garret Cantona’s vocabulary, and he’s just fine with that. But when Kit walks into his life, he realizes he’s never before been so sure about anything or anyone. Suddenly, he finds that he’s looking at the world, his world, in a different light. And now that he is, he’s determined to protect it, and her, in whatever way he can.
Frailty. No one knows better than Kit and Garret that an appreciation for what is, or what was, or what might be, can be born from the uncertainty and fragility of life. But when a hunt for a killer leaves Garret no choice but to throw Kit back into her broken and damaged past, even his unshakable faith in what they have together might not be enough to keep it from shattering into a million pieces.
CHAPTER 1
Kit Forrester took a sip of her beer and eyed the man sitting across from her. Drew Carmichael looked every inch the business tycoon he was. At over six feet of lean muscle, his blond hair, blue eyes, and strong chin gave him a hint of New England aristocracy. And she knew that, truth be told, Drew could trace his family back to the Mayflower. But it was his presence more than his appearance that conveyed an inherent sense of authority.
And authority was good, considering what Kit knew his other job to be.
She set her glass down and leaned forward. “Drew, in all the years I’ve known you, you’ve never, and I repeat never, asked me for a personal favor.”
Her eyes stayed on his face even as he flicked a look out the window. Under normal circumstances, she might think he was just taking in the view of the beautiful winter night through the front picture window of the small restaurant in which they sat. But as charming as the Hudson Valley of New York, and particularly Old Windsor, was this time of year, she suspected Drew was being vigilant rather than appreciative.
His eyes came back to hers. “I know, Kit. Believe me, I know. And you can say ‘no.’”
“But you’d rather I say ‘yes,’” she said, finishing his thought if not his statement. Drew gave very little away but she’d known him long enough, nearly twelve years now, that she could see in the shadows of his expression the unease she heard in his voice. “Tell me what you need,” she said.
She watched some of the tension leave his eyes, but he paused before answering as a couple came through the door, with a gust of cold wind following them, and headed toward the bar. Once the new patrons were well away, Drew set his elbows on the table and moved closer to her.
“Jonathon Parker is an agent with MI6, which, as you know, is the British version of the CIA.”
Kit nodded. She traveled a lot for her job, met a lot of interesting people, knew a lot of interesting things—especially considering the fact that for the past eight years she’d been one of Drew’s assets.
His position as one of the board members for his family’s multi-national conglomerate was a perfect foil for his real job with the CIA. And Kit, well, she was the high-flying daughter of a very wealthy, and very deceased, businessman. That, coupled with her own international success as an award-winning writer of modern literature, gave her easy access to people and places. She didn’t work for the CIA, but she did help them out on occasion.
“Jonathon was placed on probationary leave three days ago,” Drew continued. “They’re investigating his potential involvement in the release of information that compromised several key MI6 assets in the Middle East.”
“Uh, that’s not good,” Kit said, leaning even closer to Drew. She knew what she did for him, for the agency, was potentially dangerous, but she never really gave it much thought. She knew Drew well and trusted him, and trusted that if he asked her for help, it was for a good reason. Still, she didn’t like the idea of anyone else knowing what she did on the side.
Drew let out a little huff of air that could almost, but not quite, be called a sardonic laugh. “No kidding. It’s not good for anyone involved. Not Parker, not the assets.”
“So what do you want me to do?” she asked. “This sounds professional, but you said you needed a personal favor.”
Drew took a sip of his own beer, set it down, and took a deep breath. “You’re already going to Rome later this week. I was hoping you could stop by London on your way through and hand off some information for me.”
“Drop it to Parker?” she asked.
Drew gave a single, sharp nod.
Kit stared at her dinner companion even as her mind went through the logic. She didn’t know all the ins and outs of the CIA, but she was pretty sure that passing information from an active agent to an agent being investigated wouldn’t be looked upon kindly. Especially considering that the agent being investigated was foreign. She also didn’t know what would happen to Drew if he were caught, but she was certain it wouldn’t be good.
“Drew,” she said, concern lacing her tone.
“You don’t have to do it, Kit. And if you choose not to, I won’t hold it against you.”
“But?” she prompted. Drew wasn’t the most straight and narrow guy she knew—she figured, in his job, he couldn’t be—but he was one of the most principled. If he wanted to involve himself with an agent under suspicion, he had to have a reason.
Again, his gaze traveled out the window before returning to her. She could see he was debating whether or not to answer. Finally, his eyes slid closed, and for a moment, he looked older than his forty years.
“Drew?” She leaned forward and laid her hand on his arm. He opened his eyes.
“I’m not going to lie, Kit. It got bad. Three of the four assets were killed within days of the information leak. Whoever did this deserves whatever justice the British decide to mete out. But it wasn’t Parker. He’s being framed.”
“Framed?” she couldn’t help the single eyebrow that shot up. When spooks started framing each other, it was bound to get messy.
One side of Drew’s mouth ticked up into a smile. “I know, it’s like a bad version of Who’s On First when spies start playing these games. If it ever gets unraveled, it will be a miracle.”
“But you know Parker wasn’t involved?” she pressed, tucking a strand of her auburn hair behind her ear.
“He wasn’t,” Drew answered with certainty.
“And why can’t this go through official channels?”
Drew let out a sigh. “Because the information I have isn’t information that we, the Agency, want to share with MI6. And before you ask,” he said, raising a hand to stave off her question, “the official Agency answer is still “no,” even when we know that it will likely ruin the life a great agent.”
Kit sat back in her chair and, for a moment, regretted getting into this conversation in the first place. There wasn’t any doubt in her mind that she would help Drew, she’d just been so stunned when he’d asked for a personal favor that she’d started asking questions. And, not surprisingly, she didn’t like what she’d ended up hearing. She didn’t like that her own government seemed to value life so little. She wasn’t naïve and knew that there might be a very good reason why the CIA didn’t want to share whatever information Drew was referring to, but still, the thought that they might have information that could help someone and choose to not use it didn’t sit well on her shoulders.
“If you don’t want to—”
“Of course I’ll do it, Drew. I was just thinking that I’m glad I’m not the one who has to make these decisions. I’m glad I’m not the one who has to weigh the value of sharing information against the lives it might help or harm.” She took another sip of her drink and set it down with a small smile. “I’d totally suck at it,” she added.
Drew smiled back—a real smile. “That’s because you have a heart and you’re human.”
Kit rolled her eyes. She was a softy; she’d freely admit to that. Bu
t Drew wasn’t giving himself any credit. He had a tough job, and she knew how much he cared about just about everything. Maybe too much.
“So, then,” she continued. “Now that we’ve settled that, what are the particulars?”
Drew slid two business cards across the table to her. Both were printed with her name and generic contact information, one had a small, Celtic design in the upper right corner, a design taken from her first book, Celtic Shelter, and the other had a similar design, only it was in the upper left hand corner. The cards looked normal and bore nothing unusual that would draw attention to them.
“This one,” Drew said, his finger tapping the card with the mark on the right side, “is for Ambrose.”
Fabio Ambrose was a diplomatic liaison located in Rome. She’d met him on numerous occasions and had already been planning to see him, at Drew’s request, on her upcoming trip to Europe. Ambrose was her official assignment.
“And this one,” Drew said, sliding the other card over, the card with the design on the left, “is for Parker.”
“And how will I meet Parker?” she asked, taking the cards and tucking them into her purse. She wasn’t sure what information was on the cards or how the intended recipients would retrieve it, but she assumed it was some sort of old-school dot technology where information was encoded in tiny pixels that made up the print.
“That’s easy,” Drew said, leaning back in his chair, looking a little bit more relaxed than he had just a few moments before. “His sister is a journalist who covers financial news.”
Kit laughed. “And, let me guess, financial crimes as well?”
“The two do tend to go together,” Drew said with an answering grin.
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