Rhys clenched his jaw as he exited the highway and turned onto a dirt road. They had been riding for the last twenty minutes as he tried to cool off and clear his head. He didn’t want to yell and scare her or make her think that he was anything remotely like Drake or, God forbid, her father.
Rhys parked the motorcycle and let it idle while he sat still in the seat with his head lowered. He took three steady breaths, and his heart softened at the way her fingers flexed around his waist. Though he couldn’t say it yet, he knew his feelings for her went much deeper than fond attraction. He was falling for her.
Rhys pulled off his helmet and then looked over his shoulder at her. Olivia was removing her helmet as well. She was so beautiful. He couldn’t help but smile at her, and his fingers itched to touch the windswept tangles of her hair.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m okay,” she replied, climbing off the motorcycle and taking a few steps back. “Look, Rhys. I know you’re angry, but you have to remember that I am a private investigator. This is my job. This is what Lila hired me for. Obviously, it rarely involves kissing dangerous men, but this was a special case.”
She looked like she might cry, which caused his heart to feel like it was shattering. “Olivia, it’s okay.”
Olivia shook her head. “You mean so much to me. It sounds really stupid, considering that we just met, but I do care about you. I don’t want to hurt you. I did what I had to do to help Lila, and I’m not sorry for that, but I am sorry that you had to witness it.”
He closed the distance between them and embraced her tightly, attempting to neaten her hair. “You are the bravest woman, Olivia. There’s no need for you to apologize to me. I’m the one who should be sorry he overreacted. Honestly, I’m crazy about you…and your wild hair right now.”
She laughed, then shoved her face into his neck to hug him close.
“Can you promise me something, though?” he asked.
“Promise you what?”
“Well, I know you’re a tough Iron Lady with a Glock and sharp tongue who can take care of yourself, but could you give me a little warning the next time you need to make out with a client for the sake of justice?” He chuckled. “I’m sure you didn’t actually need me to come to the rescue back there, but I’m glad I did. Can you promise me you’ll tell me next time something like that needs to go down?”
“Of course,” murmured Olivia, her voice slightly muffled in the fabric of his soft T-shirt. “I promise. And anyway, I don’t mind that you came to my rescue today. It was kind of hot.”
Rhys snorted. “You wild, wild woman…”
Olivia
Olivia strode into the conference room, hand in hand with Rhys.
“Well, that sounded like it was a fucking adventure!” Adeline said, reclined in the chair. “I don’t know that I’ve ever been more emotionally exhausted, and I wasn’t even there.”
“Yeah, sorry about that,” Olivia said, smiling sheepishly.
“No, it’s fine,” Sunday said and frowned at Adeline. “I think we heard enough to get an idea of what was going on.”
Olivia froze, remembering that she was still wired up when she jumped onto the back of Rhys’s motorcycle.
“Wait, how much of that did you hear?”
“Don’t worry,” Melanie said as she sat at the table, which was scattered with a bunch of surveillance equipment. “I made them shut it off after you left Drake’s office.”
“I’m just glad that you’re okay,” Adeline said. “The pictures came out amazing, by the way, but the real kicker is that we actually got him to openly confess to sleeping with his clients. What luck!”
Olivia shrugged. “Well, it was a risk. Men like Drake are always so careful with their words, so I didn’t think he would actually answer my question willingly. He must’ve been thrown off by Rhys’s presence and slipped.”
“Then thank God we had Captain America to interrupt a controlled surveillance scene despite my insistence that he not,” remarked Adeline, pursing her lips at him.
Rhys bit his lip and offered her a sheepish smile.
“Sorry about that.”
Olivia grinned and reached out to squeeze his hip. “Don’t worry. That’s her way of saying thanks.”
Two weeks later, Olivia sat at the conference table with Lila, Rhys, and the girls. They were waiting for Melanie to deliver the summary of the call she just had with Barrett, who was Lila’s divorce lawyer. He received the information from the Iron Ladies the day after Olivia’s final altercation with Drake and had been hard at work hardballing Drake’s attorney after serving the divorce papers with impressive efficiency.
“How are you feeling?” Sunday asked Lila.
“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.” Lila smiled softly. “You girls got solid information, so I’m assuming that you have good news from the lawyer. It’s just…the anticipation is making me tense.”
“I completely understand, which is why I’m not going to mince words,” Melanie said. “Barrett told me that he has all but totally finalized a negotiation for settlement. A hefty settlement.”
“Hefty?” Lila asked, eyes wide. “What do you mean?”
“Well, as you might or might not know, Florida is an equitable distribution state for marital property, which means that both spouses are supposed to get fifty-fifty,” Melanie explained.
Lila let out a sharp exhale and laughed as she rubbed her hands over her tired face. “Fifty-fifty…that’s great. That’s—that’s wonderful. I thought, for sure, his lawyer would somehow find a way to haggle me down to less than that.”
“Well, I’m not finished.” Melanie grinned. “That’s just the percentage at minimum that you would be owed upon the dissolution of the prenuptial agreement, which has been voided thanks to the proof of Drake’s infidelity. Since your future ex-husband doesn’t want to risk losing his license, the attorney was able to negotiate him to sixty-five percent.”
“I get sixty-five percent?” Lila gasped.
“Yes, ma’am.” Melanie grinned. “I’m sure you know that means millions.”
Tears sprang to Lila’s eyes. She was so happy that it made Olivia smile brightly in turn. It was clear that Lila didn’t really care about the money, but it certainly helped that she wouldn’t be homeless and destitute after leaving Drake. What mattered most to her was her freedom.
Olivia sighed and squeezed Rhys’s hand. “Don’t you love it when people get what they deserve?”
Lila laughed through the sobs. “Thank you so much. I’m so grateful I found out about the Iron Ladies. You’ve changed my life for the better.”
Epilogue
Olivia
“Melanie, you look amazing!” Sunday’s voice was thick with tears.
“Oh, no! Don’t you start! If you start crying, then I’m going to start crying. We’re all going to be a mess,” Adeline said. “We can’t have the bride with black makeup streaking all over her face.”
“No, I know.” Sunday sighed. “I’m sorry. It’s just—wow. Melanie, I can’t believe you’re getting married! In, like, ten minutes! Life really flies by.”
Sunday turned away to grab a tissue and blew her nose.
“I’m so happy right now.” Melanie smiled dreamily, amused by our friend’s emotional display.
“You are probably the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen,” Olivia said.
Adeline raised an eyebrow.
Olivia snorted and backtracked. “I mean, you two are tied. You’re both the most beautiful brides I have ever seen.”
Adeline laughed. “No, don’t worry about it. Melanie, you look incredible. I’ll let you claim the title today.”
Melanie laughed and turned back to the mirror as she fixed the eyeliner that had smudged slightly from her tears.
“All right, everyone, I think it’s time for a toast,” Adeline said, handing out glasses of champagne. We were due in the chapel lobby any minute, but these were precious moments. They needed to
be savored.
“A toast to the Iron Ladies!” Olivia said, lifting her glass of champagne. “Let me start with Adeline. You are the ballsiest woman I’ve ever known. Whenever I needed someone to have my back or bring a man to his knees, I knew I could rely on you. If you hadn’t befriended me in college all those years ago, I don’t know where I would be right now.”
“Oh, Liv.” Adeline sighed, pressing her free hand to her lips.
“Sunday,” Olivia continued, turning to the pretty blonde. “You are the sweetest, most thoughtful person I’ve ever known. When I need someone for a good cry or to just relax and watch a rom-com with, you’re always there.”
Sunday giggled and clinked her glass against Olivia’s.
“And, Melanie… God, you really are the heart and soul of this group,” Olivia said, feeling misty-eyed but determined not to cry. “We are all so different, but you tie us together. You are the glue that binds us—the heart and soul. I don’t know what any of us would do without you. I wish you all the happiness and may you be the glue that binds your new family together. You are going to be a fantastic wife and stepmother.”
“Christ, that’s done it,” Melanie whispered as fresh tears spilled down her lovely face. “To us!”
“To us!” the girls cheered in unison as they drank their champagne.
The low rumble of a motorcycle hummed outside the windows.
“He’s here.” Olivia sighed in relief. “I was worried he was going to be late.”
Adeline laughed. “Well, go collect your man before he gets lost.”
Olivia set down her glass and lifted her dress as she ran barefoot out the door and toward the back exit that led to the parking lot. When she burst outside, she grinned because he looked absolutely perfect in his tasteful suit.
“Rhys!” she called, running toward him. He turned just in time for her to collide into his chest, catching her and pulling her off the ground and into a warm embrace.
“Dear God, look at you. You look breathtaking!” he told her before pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. “Is everyone ready? Am I the last to arrive?”
His face was full of concern.
“No, it’s okay.” Olivia giggled, smoothing out the crease in his brow. “We’re just finishing up getting Melanie ready. I think we have about five minutes. So, basically, you’re right on time.”
“Good, glad to hear it.” He draped an arm around her shoulders as they walked back toward the church. “I love the dress, by the way. Blue is your color.”
“Well, thank you.” She grinned. “You look pretty sexy in that suit.”
Rhys squeezed her closer to him. She guided him to the room where the girls were gathered.
“Are you ready?” Adeline asked as Olivia and Rhys approached. “Here are your shoes, by the way.”
Olivia slipped her pumps on and then gave her friend a thumbs up to indicate that she was ready.
“Okay, places, everyone!” the wedding planner shouted as Melanie and her bridesmaids gathered with their dates outside the doors of the sanctuary where hundreds of voices murmured in anticipation.
Olivia squeezed Rhys’s hand and then released him to get in line as the music began. He slipped into the sanctuary to find a seat as Olivia smiled politely at the groomsmen she’d be walking down the aisle next to.
“It’s happening,” Sunday sang quietly.
“I’m so happy,” Melanie whispered at the back of the group.
“All right, here we go,” the wedding planner said. “Flower girl, let’s do this thing.”
One by one, the members of the wedding procession made their way down the aisle. There wasn’t a dry eye in the room when Melanie, a vision in white, floated down the aisle to greet the love of her life at the altar.
Olivia stood with her bridesmaid bouquet in hand, her eyes shimmering with emotion as they searched for Rhys. When their gazes finally locked across the room, everything else faded away. It was like they were standing together in the middle of an empty room, the world halting for a moment as they smiled at each other.
Rhys parted his lips and mouthed three little words. Even though he was several yards away, she swore she could hear his voice in her mind saying them aloud.
“I love you.”
____________
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Sneak Peek—London, Is Falling
Book 1, Iron Horse
Chapter 1 - London
Why were funeral home’s chairs so uncomfortable? Did they have a catalog of nothing but hardwood, straight-back chairs? Chairs that constantly reminded you that you were uncomfortable, the people around you were uncomfortable, and that you were going to be uncomfortable for another two hours.
Maybe they did it so that you wouldn’t be distracted from the people walking by and reminding you of how fabulous your father was or how every day since you learned about his lung cancer that you worried. Nope, they wouldn’t want you to miss a second of being reminded of how worried you were about not being able to fill his shoes.
Worried that you would let your sisters down.
Worried that despite everything—despite your father having raised you to believe that girls were just as great as boys—maybe the farm might have been better off in the hands of a son. That was if Samuel Kelly had had a son, but he didn’t. He’d been stuck with three daughters and a wife that had run off when the girls were little.
“I’m sorry for your loss.” I was pulled from my thoughts and self-doubt to accept more condolences.
“Your family is in our prayers.”
“Let us know if you girls need anything.”
“Your father was a good man.”
Were condolences like straws and everyone drew one; whatever was written on the straw was the platitude you had to repeat?
I looked at my sisters to make sure that they were holding up. Part of me felt relieved because I knew that Daddy wasn’t in pain anymore, but at the same time, I was pissed at him for leaving us. It didn’t matter that I was thirty—nothing made you feel like you were a little girl all over again than losing a parent.
The pastor finished the service, and my sisters and I followed the pallbearers, who carried my father’s casket out the doors of the church.
Sweat trickled down my back, and I found myself more focused on the riding lawn mower I could see in the distance than I was on what was being said as they lowered Daddy’s casket into the ground. Taking a deep breath, I inhaled the scent of fresh mowed grass and impending rain. It was going to rain, I could smell the saltiness in the air, and when I opened my mouth I could taste the saltiness on the tip of my tongue.
Who was I kidding? It always rained in Florida, especially this time of the year, and the rain was always salty thanks to being close to the ocean. But right then I needed the rain, I begged for it. I wanted it to pour and send all these people scurrying for cover so that I could sit here for a few moments and say goodbye to my hero.
I was on autopilot, my focus was up toward the horizon and the rain rolling in, while people were kissing my cheek, saying goodbye, and then walking off. Person after person stopped, but I was moving out of natural reaction.
“You okay, London?” I looked at my sister Paris as she tucked a few loose strands of hair behind my ear. “You seem like you’re a million miles away.”
“I’m fine, just tired. Let’s go home.” I stood and held out one hand for each of my sisters. Being the oldest, I’d always felt a heavy amount of responsibility for them, and right then, I needed not to be the weak one.
The three of us headed to my truck. Jumping up into the seat, I paused for a second before pulling my legs in to kick off any excess dirt that still clung to my heels. Nothing about Geneva was fancy, not even the cemetery, where I had
to walk through, dirt, sand, and stand in soft sod while I watched my father be lowered into the ground. After removing my hat—because in our little town you always wore a black hat to a funeral—I laid it on the console and started the engine. As I glanced into my rearview mirror, I met the eyes of my baby sister Holland, who hadn’t said a word, which was so strange since of the three of us, she was always the most outspoken one.
But I wanted to get this day over with, which was probably why we had bucked tradition and decided not to have a potluck after the funeral. People from the church had been bringing food by for the last month while Daddy was in hospice. I just didn’t want any more people traipsing in and out of the house telling us how sorry they were, which in the end ultimately led them to discussing the fact that none of us were married and someone was bound to offer up one of their relatives to help us out. As if we were so desperate to find a husband that we needed someone to give us their cousin’s son, who was probably still living in his mom’s basement and went by the name of Bubba. No thanks.
I drove the five miles to our home, the one that I grew up in, the one that still smelled of oiled leather. The smell was an ever-present reminder of when Dad would bring the saddles in and sit there with a polishing cloth, and I realized that I wasn’t ready to go in, not yet.
“You coming?” Holland stood in the doorway, front door ajar, waiting for me.
“Hey, I’ll be back later. I’m going up to Marcus’s.”
Or, more specifically, the Elbow Room, which was the bar he owned. Holland nodded, and I was back in my truck before the door even closed behind her.
Fifteen minutes later, I was pulling open the door and walking into the dimly lit space that smelled of old smoke. It had been a few years since people were allowed to smoke inside, but the scent that was imbedded into the structure assuaged me. That smell wasn’t ever leaving. I remember when the previous owner had the place and my daddy would bring me up here as a kid, there were nights that the smoke had been so thick you could practically cut it with a knife. There had been no hope for the air filtration system to keep up.
Olivia, Striking Back (Iron Ladies Book 4) Page 11