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“Okay.”
“Buck will be traveling with you. He’ll be staying with you as well, at your house. He won’t be the only agent on your detail. There will be others, who remain at the covert level of surveillance.”
“Understood, sir.”
The man reached forward and covered my hand with his. “Decker is my name, and you don’t work for me, Ali. We’re here for you. Just let us know what else you need.”
“When can I leave?”
“Whenever you’d like. There’s a plane on standby.”
“I’d like to go now.” It didn’t matter if I stayed one more night. Tomorrow I’d feel the same way, and the day after.
He nodded his head in a way that suggested he wasn’t surprised.
“Just give me a few minutes to get your stuff together,” said Chloe from where she stood in the kitchen.
“I can do it.” By the time I got to the bedroom, Chloe was wheeling my bag out. “I’ll just need a minute.”
“Take all the time you need.”
I sat on the bed and hugged the pillow close to me. “I wish I would’ve told you I loved you too, Cope. Because I do,” I whispered. “I know it doesn’t make sense, but it’s true. I wish we’d had more time together, but I’ve asked my parents to look out for you, wherever you all are. I’ll love you forever, Sumner Copeland.”
I wiped my tears and took one last look around the room I’d only spent a couple of nights in, yet it seemed I’d spent a lifetime.
“I’m ready.”
“Do you want me to help you change, sweetie?” asked Chloe.
I shook my head. I’d been wearing Cope’s sweatshirt and had no intention of taking it off.
23
ALI
ONE MONTH LATER
“What are you working on?” asked Buck, joining me in the kitchen.
“Just writing.” I’d gotten my cast off the day before, and it felt so good to be able to type without having a rolled-up towel under my wrist.
“I’m glad you didn’t need surgery,” he said, pouring himself a cup of coffee.
My arm had healed quickly and, as Buck had said, didn’t need further care. It ached, but my heart hurt worse. There were days I couldn’t bear it, and others, I was able to set my grief aside.
I didn’t know the whole story yet, but I knew enough to start the book I was aware would never be published, but was one I had to write anyway.
Irish hadn’t resurfaced, but Buck reported he had recovered fully. He didn’t need to tell me the mission Warrick and Cope were working wasn’t over. As long as Buck and the other agents were here, it meant it remained unresolved.
“Anything you want to do today?”
I shook my head. It was too difficult to do much other than stay at home.
The last few days, Buck and I had worked in the small garden he’d cleared the way for in the backyard of the house that had belonged to my parents and had been mine since my mother’s death. It was the house I grew up in, and when I’d showed Buck photos of how it looked when my father was still alive, he asked me if I wanted to have a vegetable garden like the one in the pictures.
I loved the idea, and while he tilled the soil, I worked on cleaning up some of the other beds that had once been filled with flowers.
The rose bushes were very overgrown and what I planned to tackle today. I’d been working on trimming and shaping them when I noticed Buck studying his phone.
