Page 100 of Boneyard HEA

“You’ve made us both very happy,” Aaron whispers. “I promise to not arm wrestle him until after we eat. There.”

“Very, very happy,” Tomás agrees.

Our hug lasts a long time. Sometimes, just breathing and touching and being together is all you need.

EPILOGUE

Georgia

The plane flight to London is smooth. The stopover in Dubai is normal, but with Rafael watching me, doing anything except boarding the next flight proves impossible. That London is the last place I want to be is not something I can tell anyone with links to the CNC Fraternity.

I should get away from him. After what happened in Australia, I have zero need for a male presence, least not for sexual reasons. Except he is so damn fine. With that gray T-shirt defining his chest muscles and stretching over his biceps, sitting next to him and not staring at his arm is difficult whenever he uses his phone or picks up a drink.

Maybe I can recover. I want to get back to normal me. I do.

“Georgia, the car is here.”

Normal. Before the touch of a man’s hand made my heart race for all the wrong reasons.

“Oh?” I start back into reality, where I’m standing at the top of five mildewed stone stairs that lead down to the pavement outside a doctor who just coaxed me into saying…things. A bronze Aphrodite sits beside my shoulder. So British.

I wince, remembering myself trotting out descriptions of what those two men did to me…over and over. Apparently, he has been approved by the fraternity, so it is okay, according to them. If not according to me.

“Georgia?” Rafael is before me, and he’s touched my elbow. I stiffen and look at his offending fingers, but he only continues to touch me.

“Yes? Do you think you could unhand me?”

“Unhand?” he scoffs. “No, because you told me some touching was considered good by that doctor. You said that a few minutes ago. Remember?”

Irritated at him pointing that out, I move my arm away then descend the steps and eye the people and cars in the street. All of them seem to have a purpose to their presence in this weather-dulled city that’s stuffed with tall buildings, monuments to history, pigeons, shops, and more history. Opposite, a park reigns over the street like a long-lost paradise, as out of place as a dinosaur. The greenery entices—a haven of peace compared to my surroundings. Two stone lions lie on plinths to either side of the beginnings of a path that winds through the shadows beneath the flourishing oaks.

So very British.

It’s autumn, and the rainclouds above us, in the dull sky, are thinking about watering our heads.

“Would you like to walk in the park across the road before we return to your rooms?” Rafael asks, politely.

My rooms, meaning those at the hotel where even the staff seem paid by the fraternity. As if.

I need to start determining my own destiny.

“Sure.”

So I spend the next ten minutes strolling with my Latino guard with the handsome face, drop-dead body, and drop-dead skills with guns, while scheming how to grab a passing taxi and abscond. I fear his reaction time will make that impossible. Scaling down the side of my hotel is probably harder.

When we emerge on the other side of the park, I’ve flip-flopped and decided to try the hijack a taxi or Uber option because I have no cash or cards or phone, when a shiny black Porsche glides up beside us and stops. In the bus stop designated area. Only a Porsche driver would do that.

The passenger window slides down and the driver leans across.

“Get in, Georgia. You’ve got men following you with bad intentions.”

“What?” I’m zeroing in on his identity even as Rafael grabs my sleeve and drags me back. Fuck me, it’s him?

“Who is this?” Rafael slips his hand under his jacket, ready to draw a weapon.

“I’m Alden.”

I wrench my sleeve free and lean in Alden’s window. “You asshole! He’s lying, Rafe.” A random stupid thought intrudes: Why did I call him Rafe? I never do that.