Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 58108 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 291(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58108 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 291(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
I went to him but stopped in front of my dad first. Looked him in the eye. Then punched him in the gut.
He bent at the waist, the FBI agent behind him holding him up by the cuffs at his low back.
“Fuck, Meg.”
“Did you feel it that time?” I asked then walked off into Hayes’ arms.
And my future.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-EIGHT
HAYES
“Thank you for the lift, Quincy.” I thumped our pilot on the back as we walked off the helipad back at Ford’s property that night. I had to admit, while the helicopter was a hefty expense for the company, to me, it was worth every fucking penny.
It had been just over twenty-four hours since she’d flown me to Spokane to go after Megan. Everything had changed since then. Not just with Megan’s situation but with us. For the first time, I felt like she was actually with me. Not sharing a little fun in bed or only a piece of herself.
She’d held my hand on the flight home, sending me small smiles.
Now, she looked weary but more relaxed than I’d ever seen her. With all the details of her life, it all made sense. Her need to remain aloof, her job as a deputy, the fact that she was alone and had wanted to stay that way. Her need for closeness without the danger of intimacy.
“Megan, my gram is making sandwiches with the leftover pot roast from last night. Some of us ducked out early. Why don’t you join us for dinner?” Ford suggested. I had no doubt he’d called her with an update. She was involved in our relationship as much as anyone else. And, she was a knowing sort and being left out probably drove her crazy.
Part of me wanted to hustle Megan off to be alone with her, but dinner with the team felt right. They’d just stuck their necks out for her, and we both owed them the camaraderie and group celebration that came after a successful mission. My dick was hard like after every mission, but for a completely different reason now.
“That sounds nice, thanks,” Megan agreed. Gone was the slightly standoffish demeanor she used to have when invited to do anything.
I took her hand, and she let me keep it as we walked together to the house.
“There they are!” Mrs. L stood on the front steps to welcome us in. She was in her usual jeans and casual top and the scent of meat and… home… wafted out the open doorway. I could understand why Ford returned here when he’d been kicked out of the Navy. It was his home and a comforting place, one I now considered home as well.
“I’m making sandwiches, did Ford tell you?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am.” I leaned in to kiss Mrs. L’s cheek, standing two steps below hers, so we were the same height.
Her wise eyes flicked to Megan. “I see you brought our girl home. Everything go okay?”
“Yep,” Ford answered, coming in behind us. “The FBI picked up Burns and Megan’s dad. And the dagger buyer. Lucas Straight is not pressing any charges against Megan.”
“Yeah, so how exactly did you manage that?” Megan spun to face Ford. We hadn’t talked about how it had all worked out. I was surprised she took this long to ask.
He shrugged, gave her his usual intense gaze. “I just explained that you’d been blackmailed into stealing it and wanted to do the right thing and return it and bust the guys who’d forced you to do it at the same time. I asked if he’d be willing to say you’d done it as a test to his security. He’s an actor who loves a good story. He said as long as he got the dagger back, he’d be happy to play along, and he wouldn’t press charges, especially since you actually had proven his security was crap. He said he won’t lie under oath, though, so if it goes to court, all bets are off.”
“If it goes to court, I will tell the truth,” Megan said.
“It won’t.” I wrapped my arm around her waist and led her to the kitchen where Quincy and Taft had already arrived. They were setting the table, no doubt put to work by Mrs. L.
Ford came in behind us and beelined straight for Indigo, who stood at the counter, slicing watermelon. She offered him a sly smile as he wrapped his arm around her waist and nuzzled into her neck as a greeting. He whispered something to her, but I couldn’t hear.
“Sit while the food’s hot,” Mrs. L ordered.
We did as ordered. Mrs. L had set out the fixings for sandwiches along with corn on the cob and a Greek salad. There was plenty, as usual.
“Testing security systems as a private consultant would pay a lot more than the salary you make as a deputy,” Ford observed.