Page 113 of Cole

“House like that needs a handyman around,” Cole said with a satisfied nod. He met Rosie’s eyes, something I knew was hard for him.

She surprised both of us by stepping forward and stopping him when he went to turn away.

“I wanted to say thank you, for all you’ve done for Finn. He didn’t have Beatie, but he had a father figure, in you. All of this that you’ve done, the police, and the FBI… you did all of this,” she sounded incredulous.

Cole nodded. “For every man who is a Hound and wants to go back to his family at night, and every wife waiting for them. For Finn and for Issy, to give them the lives they deserve.”

Rosie nodded. She didn’t smile. There was too much painful history for that. But she looked at peace with it.

Cole took a deep breath, and turned to me. He took off his jacket and draped it over my hospital pajamas. Then he took my hand and we walked out into the hallway. The walls were lined with Hounds. All wearing their cuts, all standing tall, they smiled as they watched us walk by, then fell into line after us.

“I’m pretty sure half of these guys think I wrote that article,” I worried.

“They don’t. Kiki got caught gloating about how she ran you off by sending the article in to the newspaper.”

I stopped in my tracks and stared at him. “Seriously? How’d she even know, or care about my work for the newspaper? How did she even come up with writing an exposé and framing me for it? Is she secretly some kind of Machiavellian mastermind?”

“Just a very driven, shit-stirrer who can’t take rejection. It’s not that hard to find you online, and work out the paper stuff. She’s no genius, and from now on, she is barred from The Clutch. You won’t have to see her again.”

“Well, today just keeps getting better and better.” I became aware of the bikers following us out the building. “Um, are they coming with us?” I asked Cole as we made it down to his bike, parked at the curb.

“They are seeing us home,” he told me, and pulled a helmet onto my head, carefully doing up the chinstrap.

So, if I’d ever wondered if being driven home by a thirty-bike escort was as fabulous as it sounded, I could now be confident that it was. They cleared the way for us all the way to Cole’s cabin, stopping to wait as we pulled onto the small forest road that would take us there. Cole waved them off as he guided the bike over the small road.

We pulled up outside the cabin, and he shut the bike off. The sudden silence seemed deafening.

“Were you serious back there? No more dodgy deals and shipyards? No more guns and nearly getting killed?” It was almost too much to hope for.

Cole nodded. “It’s the condition of keeping the Hounds out of the sting. No more illegal shit. A favor, considering that we facilitated the takedown of one of the biggest arms dealers on the East Coast.”

“So, what will we do now?” I wondered.

“You will finish school, and I’ll work on making sure the Hounds know what work is legit and what’s off-limits. At the same time, you work on your story.”

“My story?” I wondered.

Cole nodded. “Our story, to be exact. Haven’t you seen the news? People want to know exactly what happened here. About the Iron Vultures and Grant Elwick. All of it. It’s your story, Isabelle. Only you can write it.”

“So, you’re just casually handing me my boyfriend back in one piece and my big break, all in the same day?” I demanded.

Cole laughed. “Well, I take offense to the term boyfriend, but yes. You’ll have your big break, if I have to personally dismantle every single gunrunning operation in this state.”

“If you’re not my boyfriend… then what are you?” I wondered, instantly nervous.

“Let’s settle for fiancé, for now. I’ll manage to leave it at that, for a few weeks at least.”

“Fiancé? Are you asking me to marry you?”

Cole shook his head. “No. I don’t ask for permission to carry out destiny. You’re my wife. We just aren’t married yet. I think some part of me knew that the second you walked into The Clutch. It doesn’t matter if I’m too damn old for you, or you’re too damn good for me. Sometimes, destiny cuts guys like me a break.”

“It cut me a break too,” I whispered, then leaned in and kissed him. “You’re more than I was ever allowed to dream of,” I murmured.

His eyes softened, and he shook his head slightly. “Damn, Issy. You’re a writer, alright. I can’t wait to read every single thing of yours.”

A surge of excitement shot through me. “You really think I can do it? Write what happened here?”

“Why not? You’ve got the talent, and I’ve got all the info no one else does.”