“Hey. What’s wrong? Didn’t you find the kids?” I asked.
“Yeah, I found them,” he clipped, brushing past me to toss his keys on the island. When he spun around, he planted his hands on his hips. “Was that Felicity I saw leaving with Maisy and Coby?”
“Um, yeah.” Where was he going with this? And why was he mad?
“So when I told you that we weren’t going to tell anyone you were here, did that not sink in? Exactly how long did you wait after I left before getting ahold of Felicity? Five minutes? Ten?”
“Beau, they—”
“And you pulled my sister and nephew into this too? For Christ’s sake, Sabrina.” He yanked off his cap and threw it on the island with his keys. “You’re supposed to be in hiding. It’s dangerous for people to know you’re here. I brought you back from the outpost to keep you safe, not for you to have a social life.”
I fisted my hands on my hips to mirror his stance. “Now wait a second. I didn’t invite them over here. I was cleaning and they just showed up. What was I supposed to do?”
“How about hide? I can’t protect you if people know where you are!”
“I was standing right there!” I shouted, pointing to the spot where I’d been scrubbing. “And don’t get mad at me, you weren’t here. You were busy running off to rescue someone else and leaving me behind.”
The words came out without thought, but before I could take them back, Beau’s anger spiked.
“That’s right. I’m always doing something for someone else. Excuse me for fucking helping other people. Do you think I like it? Always on the run, doing things for others while my life gets put on hold? But what else should I say, Sabrina? You’ve got all the answers, tell me. I guess the next time two kids get lost or a woman comes to Montana in the middle of the night and needs a place to hide out, I should just say, ‘Sorry, I’m fucking busy.’ Is that how I can get out of the hassle of everyone else’s shit?”
I’d walked right into an argument I couldn’t win. I didn’t have any answers to his questions. But I did know that it really hurt to be called a hassle. “You’re right. You’re trying to help everyone else out. I guess if you told people no, maybe those of us that are such a fucking hassle would have to figure it out ourselves.” I stormed past Beau, rushing upstairs as anger and guilt settled heavy on my back.
Beau had likely saved my life. He’d taken me on as a burden, and any time I’d apologized for inconveniencing his life, he’d sworn it had been fine.
I didn’t know where I’d be without Beau’s help. I had needed him. Not just to keep me safe, but just . . . for me. I still needed him. Just like his mom. His sister. His nephew.
The line of people that needed Beau was stacked deep and I wasn’t at the front.
I was halfway up the stairs when the doorbell rang, but I didn’t stop moving.
I went upstairs and sank onto the end of the bed, burying my face in my hands.
If the chaos of my life ever settled, Beau wouldn’t want me to stay. I’d been kidding myself to think a life in Montana could be my future, that Beau and I might make a relationship out of this thing between us.
The truth was, I didn’t belong in Montana. I didn’t belong with Beau.
We’d always been temporary and he’d been nothing but up front about expectations. Anything else had just been my imagination running wild. My romance novels must have made me delusional, because clearly, I’d been reading much more into Beau’s words and actions than he had intended.
And fuck, did that hurt.
When the one man you wanted more than any other thought you were a hassle, it hurt.
His footsteps sounded in the hallway and I looked up, waiting for his body to fill the doorframe. When he appeared, the scowl on his face had just gotten harder.
“You have a visitor.”
I stood up. “Me?”
He nodded.
“Who?”
“Your FBI friend.”
“What? Henry’s here?”
“See for yourself.” He spun around and walked down the hallway.
I rushed across the room, following Beau downstairs. Henry Dalton stood in the living room, wearing his signature black suit and white shirt.
Another visit from the FBI could not mean good things.
My heart was pounding as I darted around Beau and into the living room, firing off questions as they popped into my head. “Why are you back, Henry? Is everything okay with my family? Did something happen with the Federovs? Do they know where I am?”
“Hello, Sabrina.” Henry chuckled. “Your family is fine. How about we sit and go through those questions one by one?”
“Sure.” I swung out a hand, inviting him to sit on the couch. I took the chair directly across from him and sat on my nervous hands.
Beau came to my side but he didn’t sit. He just crossed his arms over his chest and planted his legs wide as he glared down at Henry.
“How are you?” Henry asked me, ignoring the waves of anger pulsing from Beau and how I was shaking with nerves.
“Um, fine.” Something was different about this visit. Unlike last time, Henry wasn’t tense. Instead, he was relaxed, almost carefree as he tossed a hand over the back of the couch and swung a foot up on his knee.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Nice place,” Henry said, looking around the house and not answering my question.
Beau growled, his jaw clenched even tighter.
I reached up and touched his elbow. “Would you please sit down? You’re making me even more nervous.”
For a second I thought he was going to remain standing, but he finally sank onto the arm of my chair with an angry huff.
Henry was still inspecting Beau’s house.
“Henry,” I snapped, getting his attention. “Why are you here?”
“I’m here to bring you home, MacKenzie.”
My stomach dropped. “Did something happen?”
Henry nodded and looked to Beau. “Your hiding spot wasn’t as secure as you thought. We caught some social-media traffic yesterday about a woman hiding up in the mountains of Montana. Blond hair. Green eyes. Sound familiar?”
My eyes closed as my shoulders fell. “It had to be the hotshots. Who did the post come from?”
“Do you know someone named Dylan Prosser?” Henry asked.
Dylan. “That. Asshole!” My fingernails dug into my palms as I clenched my fists.
Beau had gotten Dylan fired from his hotshot crew, and rather than take that opportunity to grow the fuck up, he’d ratted me out.
“I’ll take that as a yes?”
“Yeah, we know Prosser,” Beau growled. His hands were fisted even tighter than mine. “What happened?”
“He’s taken a lot of interest in Sabrina. From what we can tell, he’s spent the better part of two months trying to figure out who you are. He must have finally stumbled onto Anton’s social-media feeds, because yesterday, we caught a comment that he had information about your whereabouts. For a price, of course.”
Which meant I’d been found. My time was up.
“So that’s it?” I asked. “Now you take me into witness protection and I become some random Jane Doe?”
Henry grinned and shook his head. “I’m not here with only bad news, MacKenzie. I’ve got some good too. You have to come home but you get to stay you.”
“She doesn’t have to go into witness protection?” Beau asked, his arm wrapping around my shoulders and pulling me toward his hip.
Henry shook his head. “She doesn’t need to. She’s safe to come back to Seattle as Sabrina MacKenzie.”
“You’re kidding.” My mouth fell open. “Really?”
Henry nodded. “Really.”
“Why? How?” Even though I’d been hoping this would come true, I’d never really expected it to happen. A part of me had come to terms with the fact that eventually I’d be disappearing from my own life and saying good-bye to my loved ones. “What about the Federovs? I don’t understand how this is possible.”
“Your article saved your ass,” Henry declared.
What was he talking about? My article had put me in this position. “What do you mean?”
“Remember I told you the inside guy with the Russians said they were poking around the case?”
“Of course I remember. That was less than two months ago. Tell me something new.” My patience was running out.
Henry smiled, completely unaffected by my sharp tone. “Well, it turns out they weren’t interested in you at all, just your article.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“The numbers you included were what drew the Russians’ interest.”
I thought back to the story and exactly what I had included. At Anton’s, I’d found a copy of a ledger documenting the gun shipments and another documenting sales. High-res photos had been sent to Henry along with the evidence my source and I had gained from Federov Shipping. But the only thing my article had included were estimates on gun imports over the last ten years and some income estimates for Viktor Federov and his sons.
“Why would the Russians care about how many guns were being imported?” I asked. “Wouldn’t they already know that?”
“Imports weren’t the issue. Sales were.”
“The Federovs were skimming,” Beau said, voicing my thoughts.
Henry nodded. “Yep.”
“And the Russians are only just now noticing?” I asked. “Because of my article? That seems suspicious.”
“I thought so too,” Henry said, “but my inside source says it’s solid intel. The Federovs have been careful, taking just enough to inflate their take but not enough to draw suspicion from their Russian counterparts. Compound small draws over thousands of shipments, though, and they got themselves a nice pay bump. Your article put a spotlight on their operation, so the Russians started running numbers.”
It didn’t surprise me that Anton and his family had gotten greedy. Viktor, Anton’s father, had always seemed fairly levelheaded—for a criminal—but Anton and Ivan were reckless and arrogant.
“Okay. So the Russians aren’t a threat, but what about the Federovs? They’ll still be after me, right? How is it safe to go back to Seattle?”
“The Federovs aren’t going to be around much longer,” Henry said. “They’re marked by the Russians. I give them a week in prison, two tops.”
“They aren’t in prison yet, Henry,” I said. “Their trial and any appeals could take months or years.”
He shook his head. “The U.S. Attorney’s office has the Federovs dead to rights and the grand jury will indict fast. No way a judge will grant them bail, so they’ll have to plea-bargain or prepare for their trial from prison—if they live that long. Six months, a year at most, and they’re gone.”
“And until then?” I asked. An ongoing trial did not guarantee my safety, nor did having the Federovs sitting in a jail cell. “It’s not just Viktor, Ivan and Anton I’m worried about. What about their goons?”
“Word is out that the Russians aren’t backing the Federovs,” Henry explained. “All of their former employees, your ‘goons,’ are in the wind or have found new criminal undertakings. The Federovs are drowning and no one is stupid enough to tie a rope to their ship.”
“She could still be in danger. What are you going to do to keep her safe?” Beau asked.
Henry leaned forward and dropped his elbows to his knees. “She’ll have round-the-clock protection from some of my best agents. I’ll see to it myself. And if anything changes with the Federovs, if by some miracle they get out on bail, we’ll go the WITSEC route. We’ll have to play it as it comes. But one thing is for sure, she can’t stay here.”
No, I couldn’t. Not with Dylan Prosser broadcasting my whereabouts and my connection to Beau. I wouldn’t bring more stress into his life or risk putting his family in harm’s way.
I wouldn’t keep being a hassle.
“Look,” Henry said, “if I didn’t think you’d be secure, I wouldn’t have come here again. But like I told your sheriff when I called him earlier to track you down, things are a lot different than they were six weeks ago.”
That was an understatement. Six weeks ago I was at the outpost, happier than I’d been in a decade.
“You promise I’ll be safe?” I asked Henry.
He nodded. “I’ll have three or four men on you at all times. Your apartment will be monitored with someone stationed outside the door. And when I’m not needed at the office or in the courtroom, I’ll be by your side the whole time.”
I looked up to Beau. “What do you think?”
“She’ll be safe?” Beau asked Henry.
“On my life, she’ll be safe,” Henry said.
Beau’s eyes dropped to mine. “Then you should go home. If I can’t keep you safe here, you have to go.”
I knew that’s what he’d say. I knew he’d send me away. I knew it was the smartest choice.
But knowing didn’t make it easier to hear.
“You’re right.” I nodded and stood from my chair, ignoring the sharp sting in my nose. “This is probably for the best.” I looked to Henry. “I’ll, um . . . just go and pack.”
I dropped my eyes as they flooded and rushed to the stairs. With my back to the living room, I slapped a hand over my mouth to muffle my cries as I ran up the steps. I let a few tears fall, but by the time I hit the closet, I had blinked more away.
Frantically, I started shoving clothes into my duffel bag. All the time I’d spent unpacking this morning had been wasted effort. My neatly folded clothes hadn’t been a part of Beau’s closet for even one day.
With my drawers clean and my hangers swinging empty, I stood and stared unfocused at the closet wall. I’d never be in this closet again. Or Beau’s room. Or his bed. I turned and took a long look at his bed, wishing we could go back to this morning when we’d been planning a lazy Sunday together.
I wished we could go back to a time when I had hope that we’d make it through this together.
Foolish hope.
An emotional break was coming but I managed to hold it back as I knelt and zipped up my bag. When I came out of the closet, Beau was sitting on the edge of the bed.
“You got everything?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
We stared at each other for a few long moments until Beau broke the silence.
“I didn’t mean what I said earlier, Sabrina. You’re not a hassle.”
“I know,” I lied. “We were just mad and talking crazy. And hey,” I shrugged, “this all worked out for the best. Now we don’t need to worry about too many people finding out I’m here. It will be good for you to go back to a normal routine and for me to go back to the city. I’ve really missed it.”
That lie was so convincing, I almost believed it myself.
“I’m ready to go home.” That part was almost true. I’d been in Montana for almost six months, and the constant emotional ups and downs had drained me completely. “I want to get back to my apartment and my life. To my job.”
Beau’s eyes narrowed. “Your job? I thought you were going to quit and write books.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I like writing but journalism is in my blood. Besides, once the Federovs are gone, I’ll have an easier time getting stories.” What was I saying? I didn’t really want to go back into journalism. I wanted to pursue writing novels. But telling Beau I was going to retreat into my old life made the sting of leaving go away. Or maybe I was trying to come across as unaffected. Whatever it was, I’d say anything to make the pain fade.
Except nothing worked. Every word just made my heart twist harder.
“Well,” Beau stood, “then I guess it’s good you’re going back to the city.”
“Yep. Time for this city girl to go back where she belongs.”
“I’ll wait for you downstairs.”
I watched him go, then ran to the bathroom, shoving my things into my bag. I zipped it closed one last time, then carried it downstairs. The lump in my throat doubled in size when I saw Henry waiting by the door, ready to whisk me away.
Beau was leaning against the fireplace, staring at the floor, Boone at his side.
“Can you give us a minute?” I asked Henry.
“Sure.” He nodded and took my bag outside.
I took a deep breath and crossed the living room. He looked up and locked eyes with mine, and I took a moment to memorize the stormy blue I would miss every minute of every day for the rest of my life. I couldn’t manage to choke out a good-bye so instead I whispered, “Thank you. For everything you’ve done for me. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” The pain in his voice brought on a fresh wave of tears.
“Beau, I . . .”
I don’t want to go. I want to see you again. I want more time.
None of those words found their way out. Instead, I lost control of my emotions and started crying at the same time Beau yanked me into his chest, wrapping me up tight as he pressed his cheek to my hair.
I cried for the future we’d never have. The happiness I’d never find without him. The pieces of my heart I was leaving here.
“Please, be careful, Sabrina.”
I nodded but kept crying.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t keep you safe here longer.”
Me too.
“I’ll miss you,” he whispered.
Then tell me not to go. Tell me there is somewhere else to keep me safe. Tell me you’ll come with me to Seattle.
Tell me anything.
I kept those words inside too. Saying them out loud when we only had minutes left wouldn’t solve anything. It would just make this harder, so I just whispered, “I’ll miss you too.”
We held on to one another for a few more minutes, my tears soaking his shirt as our arms clung to the last few moments we had together.
When the door clicked open, I knew our time was up.
“Sabrina,” Henry said, poking his head inside. “We’ll need to leave soon or we’ll miss the last flight out.”
I let Beau go and stepped away. “All right.”
“One more minute,” Beau told him. When Henry closed the door, Beau pulled me back into his arms.
“If you ever need anything else, you call me, okay?”
“Okay.”
This was it. This was our good-bye.
And I hated it. I wanted to kiss him. To make love to him one last time. To spend one more night in his arms.
But I wouldn’t get that good-bye.
We didn’t have time.
We only had this one last hug that crumbled my already-shattered heart.
When Boone nudged between our legs, I dropped to the floor and wrapped my arms around his neck, the sobs coming uncontrollably as I said good-bye to Beau’s dog.
As I said good-bye to my dog.
“I love you,” I whispered to Boone, hoping that Beau would know I was talking to him too.
Then I stood and quickly moved through the rest of the house, grabbing my laptop from the kitchen and shoving it in my backpack from the laundry room.
With everything loaded, I walked straight to the door, turning back for one last look at Beau.
Every bit the mountain man I’d met six months ago, he was standing tall in the middle of the room, his arms crossed over his broad chest. His beard was thicker now than it had been back then but his hair was shorter, having just been trimmed at the barber earlier in the week. And even though his face was full of sadness, he was still utterly breathtaking.
“Good-bye, Goliath.”
“Bye, Shortcake.”
One minute later, Henry was driving us to Bozeman to catch the last flight to Seattle.
“You’ll be home before midnight,” Henry said as we breezed through security with a flick of his badge. True to his word, he had me standing outside my apartment door at eleven forty-nine.
I greeted the three agents standing guard, then let Henry lead me inside.
The chair that had been knocked over during Anton’s attack had been righted and the apartment cleaned. The broken lock had been replaced and a shiny new key was on my kitchen counter. Next to the key was my phone and purse, right where I’d left them in April.
Just as abruptly as it had started, my time in Montana, my time with Beau, was over.