CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

 

6 Months Later

Brody

 

The office was cool and dim, furnished in dark, masculine pieces. A slew of frames were next to the computer monitor, but they were facing away from where I sat on the other side of the desk.

The door opened behind me and I stood, facing the man entering the office. "Brody Thomas?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Carson Stinger? Thanks for meeting with me."

Carson walked around his desk and took a seat, indicating I should do the same. "I'm the one who's thankful. I've heard your name for years. You have a hell of a reputation." The wry smile that followed his words told me I should take that as a compliment. I returned the smile as he continued. "Your work in the field is legendary. Not to mention you recently helped capture Colombia's most infamous trafficker—that had to be a fucking rush."

A rush. That was one way to put it. "I didn't do it on my own."

Carson regarded me for a brief moment. "Damn near." He leaned back in his chair. "That's why I was so surprised when Josh told me you might be looking for something more . . . stable?"

I released a breath, sitting forward a little more. "Truth is, no one's more surprised than me." I paused. "Circumstances dictate I find something more stable, local, but where my expertise can still be of value."

Carson's eyes narrowed slightly and there was a miniscule tipping of his lips. "Circumstances, huh?" He chuckled softly, giving me a brief but knowing smile. "Yeah, life is wild that way." His gaze flickered to the framed photos on his desk then back to me. "Did Josh give you a rundown on our operation?"

"He did. To say I'm impressed is an understatement. You do good work. And I think I can be an asset to your team."

"I don't doubt it." He tapped his pen on the edge of his desk for a second. "When can you start?"

My heart beat steadily in my chest, a feeling of rightness settling inside me. "I'd like a couple of weeks to get settled in Vegas, if possible. And I have a few loose ends to tie up."

"Absolutely." Carson stood, extending his hand and I followed suit. We shook. "Welcome to the team, Brody. We're honored to have you." He paused, smiling. "And good luck with those loose ends."

 

**********

 

I sat in my truck, watching her house from across the street the same way I'd done what now seemed like a lifetime ago. Before I'd known her. Before I'd loved her. Then again, maybe it'd started even then, that small grain of . . . something that told me the woman with the expressive blue eyes wearing her heart on her sleeve would change me in some irrevocable way. Life is wild, Carson had said, and holy hell, was that true.

Olivia Barton had walked into my life, and my entire world had tilted on its axis. I took the letter out of my coat pocket, the one she'd left sitting on the table in that cottage I'd rented for her on the beach after her life had been destroyed. My guts clenched with that now-familiar fiery want, the longing for the woman I'd burn the whole fucking world down for if she asked.

The barking of dogs caught my attention and I turned my head, watching as two mutts nipped playfully at each other as a little boy watched, laughing. He threw a stick, and the two dogs bounded after it. I smiled to myself, the barks that still occupied a corner of my own mind fading, drifting away.

I thought of those kennels, my family who had rejected me cruelly. So I'd rejected them as well. Then I'd created a life for myself where there was no possibility of getting close to anyone, telling myself it wasn't only the work I loved, but the aloneness as well. The solitude and the separateness. I'd claimed it this time and now the power was mine. It was only when I met Livvy that I'd finally allowed myself to admit that that old longing—for acceptance, for family, for love—was still there, buried deep inside and flickering like a candle glowing softly in a secret corner of a locked-up room. Waiting for a window to open, so the sunlight could spill inside.

Livvy. Home. 

I unfolded the note slowly, reading her words:

 

Brody,

It's hard to believe I'm going home tomorrow, when home has taken on such a different meaning since I started on this fool's journey.

Fool's journey. I was a fool, wasn't I? Only . . . sitting here, staring out at the moon-drenched water, your scent still on my skin, I can't quite bring myself to regret all of it.

You told me your uncle was right when he said you made Lobo weak. But he wasn't right, Brody. Lobo would have died in that cage no matter what—he just wasn't a fighter, not in that way. But before that happened, you gave him love. And love doesn't make you weak. Love makes you strong. Lobo was strong to his final breath.

All my life, I've made excuses for people, tried to see only the good in them, even when my instincts were whispering the truth. This journey has taught me to listen to those whispers, to rely on my own gut, to question whom I give my heart to. And I will take those lessons with me as I now journey home, but I will use them to become stronger, not to stop loving, not to stop risking my heart. That's really the ultimate danger, after all, isn't it?

What my instincts tell me, what I know, Brody Thomas, is that you are a good man. You are brave and loyal, a defender who makes the world a better place. A savior. I'm glad you did what you did, even if I played an unwilling part in it. Even if I suffered for it, because in the end, you have changed me for the better. You have made me strong.

Yours, Livvy