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Epilogue
July
10 p.m.
Three years later
Matt Montgomery cursed as he stared out the window at the pouring rain. He’d lived here for three years and there were still things he didn’t understand about this goddamn state. Like swamps everywhere, hungry gators, and a community who spoke a version of French that sounded nothing like the language he’d learned in high school. As if that wasn’t head-scratching enough, now he had to contend with a summer rain that lasted for days and felt like a hot, sticky blanket.
Why did he still live here? Right, because he liked the people and the Southern hospitality. He loved his job.
And you keep hoping she’ll come home…
With a curse, he turned away and paced the house he’d been renting since deciding not to return to Wyoming. He had no business thinking of Madison Archer. Or rather, Madison Archer-Pershing. It had been three years since Trees and Laila’s wedding, when he’d spent that absolutely mind-blowing weekend in a hotel suite, sharing champagne, cheese fries, laughs, and great sex with her. Now, she was very much married to some bigwig senator’s son. She’d moved out of the bayou and moved up to the world of wealth and influence—two things he could never give her.
That realization was the big turd on top of a giant shit sundae.
His phone buzzed and he pulled it from his pocket, praying it was work. He could use a little adrenaline and action to take his mind off Madison and spice up his night.
Instead, it was a text message from Casey, his latest friend-with-benefits. As usual, she didn’t beat around the bush.
Rain turns me on. Let’s fuck.
Normally, he would. In fact, since news of Madison’s engagement to Senator Winston Pershing’s grandson, Todd, had splashed across newscasts and social media, Matt hadn’t turned many offers down. A hookup at a bar here and a sexy neighbor sleepover there? Why not? A blind date? A flight attendant? A random hookup at a grocery store? Check, check, and check. Hell, even a former client, a gym pal’s little sister, and an ex’s best friend. He’d totally been game. When he’d met Casey at a community food festival and they’d gotten to talking about mutual acquaintances, she’d pointed out he’d already fucked two of her friends. They’d apparently left with smiles, and she wanted some of that for herself. At the time, it had seemed perfect.
Two weeks later, he wasn’t interested anymore.
Why not? Dude, she isn’t coming back. Move the fuck on.
Good advice, especially since he was pretty sure he’d soon be hearing about Madison having kids with that stuffy blue blood. God, he was a stupid ass, because the thought of her in bed with the entitled prick made Matt homicidal. He really should get laid.
He just didn’t want to, not by Casey. Not by anyone else he could think of.
Just Madison.
How the fuck had she ruined him in forty-eight hours?
Matt sighed, grabbed a beer, downed half of it, then headed back to the window. She was out there, somewhere. Probably at some pompous, ten-thousand-dollar-a-plate fundraiser, rubbing elbows with people who would look down on him for making a living by his gun.
Fuck them. And fuck her. Whether he wanted to or not, he was going to fuck Casey tonight.
Retrieving his phone, he started to tap out a response when he suddenly heard a tap at his window that startled the hell out of him. He reared back, then saw a face on the other side of the glass. Ball cap, sunglasses, baggy T-shirt plastered to a slight frame. No distinguishing features or tattoos. At first glance, it looked like a teenage boy. But the face had a softness… Smooth, fair skin, gracefully arched brows, and a delicately sloped jaw.
Why the fuck would the kid be out in the pouring rain after ten o’clock at night? Hell, why would he avoid the covered porch, rather than knock on the front door?
The kid wouldn’t…unless there was trouble.
Matt unlocked the window and raised it a fraction, aware of his gun a mere split second from his grasp.
“Yeah?”
“Matt?”
That voice. Not a boy at all. Definitely a woman.
One he knew.
No, that was impossible. It couldn’t be… But a second glance had him rethinking his assessment.
Holy shit.
His heart slammed against his chest. “Madison?”
She gave him a shaky nod, then looked behind her as if she expected the bogeyman to jump her. “Yes. I’m sorry to barge in—”
“You’re not.” If she was here, if she was hiding in his bushes and disguising herself as she approached his house late at night in the rain, there was something terribly wrong. “What’s going on?”
“I-I need help, and I didn’t know anyone else I could trust.” She swallowed, and he saw the abject terror on her face. “My husband is trying to kill me.”
The End
