58
Hours later, Ethan sat on the porch with Zoë. The house had experienced a rush of activity that had made his head spin. A team of workmen had replaced the windows in the great room. Speedily, the men made the repairs and then cleaned up the mess, whisking away the debris of broken glass, bullet-riddled furnishings and other items broken or otherwise damaged in the hail of gunfire the room had seen. He could hardly believe all that had happened since Zoë killed Rosati. It seemed several days’ worth of action had occurred in a few hours and he was exhausted just witnessing it, never mind what he and Zoë had physically been through. Where Charles had sourced them late on a Sunday night, in addition to the materials they employed, was a mystery to Ethan but he could only assume Zoë’s father had considerable contacts and resources at his disposal. He felt a mixture of amazement, trepidation, and respect for the man. What would Charles have done to Rosati and his men if there hadn’t been others around?
Aside from Boone and Myles, most of the men that had been present to protect Zoë had left, after giving statements to agents. Only Rory remained, at Skip’s house with him. Faye had seen Skip after stitching up Ethan, and had determined he had a nasty concussion. Despite Faye’s suggestion, Skip refused to go to the hospital. She’d kicked up such a fuss that Rory had volunteered to stay with Skip to keep an eye on him for the night. Faye herself had left some time ago, after writing a prescription for pain-killers for Skip, and announcing she’d return the following afternoon to check on him and Ethan.
Ethan had tried to thank each man as they’d left and thought he’d managed to catch them all, but couldn’t really be sure. Fatigue threatened to drop him at any moment, and he squeezed Zoë’s hand, desperate to be alone with her, but understanding the necessity of all the commotion on the ranch. The bodies of Rosati and his men had been taken away, and now, he noted, many of the agents had left. Great, maybe they’d all be gone soon, and he and Zoë could have some much-needed peace. She’d been extremely quiet and it concerned him. He hoped killing Rosati hadn’t been too much for her. Sure, she’d been trained with firearms, but he didn’t know if Charles had employed any other training, though he suspected she’d learned hand-to-hand combat from what he’d seen when she fought Rosati. Taking a life was horribly damaging, but the distance of employing a gun to do so lessened the blow somewhat. She’d stabbed Rosati, an up close and personal act, and he feared it could have a horrid impact on her.
Silently vowing to help her in any way he could, his attention diverted to the opening front door of the house. Boone, Myles, and Charles exited and approached the couple as they stood, Ethan slowly. Charles smiled at Zoë. They still hadn’t spent any time together, and Ethan felt a twinge of guilt for keeping her to himself. A small twinge. He never wanted her out of his sight, ever, but Charles was her father.
As he looked at Ethan, Charles’s expression was tough to read. That hard look was back, not as severe as before though, and Ethan held his breath, unsure what Charles, who’d been communicating with the agency, had discovered about Rosati. While Rosati and his men were dead, it had been unclear if Zoë was a target of the Bosa family.
“The windows have been fixed, and all the damaged items taken away. Both the great room and kitchen have been cleaned. I’ll transfer money into your account to replace all you lost tonight.”
Ethan couldn’t care less about that, but nodded, eager to hear about what truly plagued him still. “Rosati’s hit on Zoë wasn’t sanctioned by the Bosa family. It turns out he’s an embarrassment to them, and our mob informants tell us the Bosas are willing to let the matter rest. There won’t be any noise from them, nor repercussions for the deaths of Rosati or his men. Toronto police are also content to let the matter be, considering one of their officers was on Rosati’s payroll. Zoë is safe.”
Relief almost buckled Ethan’s knees but he managed to stay upright and blew the breath he’d been holding out sharply. Charles held out his hand, and Ethan shook it.
“Again, I thank you for all you’ve done for Zoë, and for your actions tonight. She’s safe now but I know you’ll protect her if anything comes your way, as unlikely as it seems. You’re a good man, Collins, and I couldn’t be happier that my daughter is with you.”
“Thank you, sir.”
He smiled at Ethan’s address and then turned to Myles. “You be sure to contact the number I gave you if anyone present tonight needs any help, suffers any anxiety, or stress, anything like that. We’ll provide any needed counselling.”
After thanking Myles and Boone for their help, Charles held his arms out to Zoë. As they embraced, Ethan saw Charles’s authoritative expression melt into one of relief and boundless love for her. He was now only a man hugging his daughter, a sight that tugged at Ethan’s heart. He rounded the pair to stand by Myles and Boone, affording Zoë and her father some privacy. They spoke to one another in hushed tones, exchanging loving looks. Then Charles placed a hand on her cheek as he said something. She nodded, smiling. After planting a kiss on her cheek, he left, trotting down the steps and taking long strides to his SUV. Ethan found their parting sweet, but succinct, and thought Zoë would’ve appreciated spending more time with her father. Still, he reasoned the pair were used to Charles’s demanding work schedule by now.
Myles said his goodbyes, Ethan thanked him profusely, and then he left. Boone inched forward, and Ethan could only describe the look on his friend’s face as regret as he locked eyes with Zoë.
“I am so sorry. I misjudged you. I honestly thought you were setting Ethan up for something. Now, after all this ... Shit, if I’d had my head screwed on straight, maybe I could have prevented all this.” He held his hand out. “Can you forgive me?”
Certain he was finished with emotional scenes for the night, watching Boone’s apology cut Ethan deeply. Boone had been through so much in his life, from the sudden death of his parents, to Zandra’s rape and Rory’s incarceration, not to mention the horrors he’d witnessed on the job. His coping mechanism was to hide his emotions, even as Ethan knew how profoundly his friend felt them. It was difficult for him to voice his feelings. Ethan loved Boone more for doing so now.
“Of course I forgive you,” Zoë responded. “I know you were only trying to look out for Ethan. I didn’t make any of this easy for him, you, or anyone else. I feel like I should be apologizing to you, too.”
“That isn’t necessary,” Boone told her. “I really do understand why you did what you did. You just said I was looking out for Ethan, but so were you. Let’s just put all that aside and start over.”
He held out his hand again. Ethan wasn’t surprised when Zoë moved around it to embrace Boone, but Boone seemed shocked. Supposing he thought Zoë would hold a grudge, Ethan knew better. She had an infinite capacity for understanding others. Zoë pulled back from Boone and delivered a wide smile that he returned.
As Boone’s gaze returned to his, Ethan’s eyes grew watery at the sight of tears in his friend’s eyes. Boone then hugged him tightly, causing him to grunt. Yeah, it hurt, but he clung to Boone, knowing how fearful he’d been. He would have been just as frightened had Boone been injured.
“Sorry, but you scared me earlier,” Boone told him softly. “You’ve got nine lives, Collins.”
“That’s doubtful,” Ethan said as Boone released him, “and, trust me, I won’t be looking to push my luck for quite some time.”
Boone smiled at that, then grew serious again. “You know, you should’ve seen Charles in action. He was something to see. I swear he took out most of Rosati’s men on his own. He’s so damn fast and he’s got wicked aim.”
Ethan wasn’t the least bit surprised to hear of Charles’s close-to-superhuman-antics as described by Boone. It wasn’t just Charles’s training that accounted for Ethan’s lack of shock. Charles was a man protecting his daughter, and Ethan knew if he himself had a daughter, he’d be no less effective at protecting her.
“Well, I’m going to check in on Skip and Rory and say goodnight to them, then head home. I called Zandra earlier to let her know we were all safe, but she’ll worry until I’m home. You two get some rest, you deserve it.”
They bid Boone goodnight and then stood quietly until his long legs carried him out of their sight. Ethan turned to Zoë. Exhaustion lined her face, and her eyes looked haunted.
“We need to talk but can it wait until the morning? I have a lot of explaining to do, I know I do, but tonight I just want to go to sleep in your arms.”
“That’s all I want,” he assured her. “Everything else can wait.”
After painfully climbing the stairs, he stripped off his jeans as Zoë disrobed. She had to help him with his shirt, as lifting his one arm proved to be an issue. He was damn sore and could have used a painkiller but the only one he was interested in indulging in was that of Zoë’s presence. Gingerly, he reclined back in the bed and she snuggled against his sound side. They hadn’t spoken a word since their exchange on the porch, and he was fine with it. He’d meant all they needed to discuss could wait until the morning. Right now, this was all he wanted, Zoë in his arms, and a chance to put their arduous night behind them. She felt so perfect beside him, her head on his chest. He stroked her back and she sighed contently. It was music to his ears. He opened his mouth to tell her he loved her, but exhaustion overtook him, closing his eyes, and pulling him into a much-needed slumber.