“Gotta keep you coming back for more.”
“That’s already a given. And I think it would have been nice to have a mobile unit.”
“I can always get another trailer. But there’s no replacing you.”
“Hell, no.” She nudged him. “Rumor has it, I’m worth an obscene amount.”
He laughed. “Good to know I’ve got a fallback.”
“Don’t get too cocky. Sloane said your performance in the Gauntlet put a pretty nice price tag on you, too.” She looked up at him, smiling. “Looks like we’ve got another thing in common.”
“It’s the little things… And I pity anyone who tries to cash in. They’ve got no idea what they’re up against.”
She settled, then looked up at him. “We’ll still set charges around our new place, right?”
“Of course. We’re upgrading, not throwing in the towel. I’ll just make sure they’re more sophisticated.” Another kiss. “Now, rest, because as soon as you’re cleared to go out in the wild, we’re going on our own hunt.”
Epilogue
Six weeks later…
* * *
The sun glinted off the rolling ocean, staining the sky a deep, sapphire blue as the surf surged against the shoreline, spitting crystalline water into the air before it crawled back out to build again. Gulls cried overhead, a few scattered clouds gathered on the horizon as the morning headed toward noon, the scent of sea salt and promise drifting on the breeze.
Buck stood at the stove, cooking eggs while the coffee pot chirped in the background, the fresh scent filling the kitchen with a warm comfort he hadn’t experienced since childhood.
And all because of Tierney.
He glanced over at her as she slipped through the sliding door, mug in one hand, the other swinging at her side. She’d lost the sling, had trained her way back to a decent amount of mobility, but he knew the memories still lingered, still whispered in the dark.
Malcolm Whitmore.
Avery’s team had recovered his body, had shipped it back to London, but the cut he’d inflicted in Tierney’s soul hadn’t fully healed, lingering like an unwanted guest. MI6 had stepped up. They’d found his offshore accounts, seized his assets, all but painted a scarlet letter across his legacy — ensured he’d be remembered as a corrupt traitor, not the distinguished operator he’d tried to sell.
But it hadn’t quite eased the pain he’d inflicted. The betrayal.
They’d offered her reinstatement — her choice of divisions. To run her own team. She’d told them all to lose her number. Permanently.
He smiled.
He loved that she didn’t mince words. Stood her ground whether it was viable or not. And he knew, he’d never find someone who believed in him the way she did. Who saw him — Buck Landry.
Not the conspiracy theorist who’d lived the past few years in his RV, trying to forget.
He sighed.
While he’d realized he needed to move beyond his old trailer, having it destroyed had left him feeling just a bit off kilter. Nothing serious, just the occasional shiver when he realized he couldn’t scoop Tierney up, take off to some obscure dirt road no one else even knew about.
Tierney had suggested he replace it, but he’d been worried he’d slip — fall back into old patterns when he craved the new version of his life.
The one that wasn’t a hollow shell carved out by a car bomb.
The one with her as his better half.
Tierney came up behind him, wrapped her arms around his chest as she smiled against his back. “And here I thought I was having you for breakfast.”
He nearly dropped the eggs as he scooped them onto twin plates. “That’s definitely on the table.”
