Lucky let out a breath. They’d covered this before, and Scout’s point was no less valid now. “You’re right. Just… I don’t know. Where do we start?”
Scout yawned. “Well, we start by having breakfast. And then going back to bed because I’m beat.”
“God, right? That whole… magic thing. I’m getting why you had to sleep so much the last time!”
Scout gave him a sweet smile. “It’s so awesome that you know that now. We’re gonna have to practice! We’re gonna have to see how good you can get! Maybe there’s other coin-connected magic—”
Lucky held up his hands. “Whoa. First things first. Have you contacted your brother’s friends to let them know what happened with Alistair? Maybe they can relax a little, you know?”
Scout nodded. “Yeah. I’m doing that when we’re done here.”
“But what about—”
Scout gave him his best goofy/dreamy grin. “Is this how we’re gonna be?” he asked winsomely. “You always taking care of the details, me with the big ideas?”
Lucky smiled stupidly back. “God, I hope so. Your big ideas are the best, Scout. I can follow you anywhere if you keep having those.” He sounded like an idiot, but he didn’t care. His past had been, if not vanquished, at least rendered far less deadly. Scout’s past had come back with a vengeance, and they’d beaten that too. They may have to keep whacking at the demons that haunted them, but by heaven, they were both ready and waiting to keep each other safe as those demons reared their ugly heads.
Scout’s grin grew. “Good. Good. You keep trusting me with the big ideas, and I’ll keep having them. Because I’ve got a big idea that’s a doozy. Let me call my brother and his friends, and then we can have lunch or dinner with everyone else and I’ll explain it to you. But first?” He yawned.
“A nap?” Lucky hazarded.
“Yeah.” Scout’s grin grewevilnow. “And then?”
Lucky stepped into his space, welcoming the brush of his lips. “We make love?” he guessed.
“Yup,” Scout agreed. “’Cause that’s what makes the rest of the fight worth having.”
“Works for me.” Lucky kissed him back a little harder. “With maybe one little tweak….”
Their kiss grew, and Scout walked him backward to the bed. “I like the way you think,” he murmured.
“This time I top.”
“Sure.”
Well, maybe next time. But there would definitely be a next time. Their adventures werefarfrom over.
Epilogue
“MR. MORGENSTERN,your ten o’clock is here.”
Callan Morgenstern looked up from the report he’d been typing for his father, butterflies starting in his stomach. He’d been anticipating this meeting for reasons he couldn’t quite put a finger on. There wasn’t anything new about the names: Marcus Frazier was a well-known businessman on the island, and so was Helen Verde. They ran stores in close proximity to each other, and tourists from Callan’s family resorts were frequently their customers. The odds of them coming to him with anything from complaints to new ideas to synergize their businesses weren’t long. Callan’sjobwas to work with the island residents to keep the Morgenstern name sparkly and pristine in the business world. No price gouging or driving the little guy out of business onhiswatch.
But something… was it the names? Was it the “and associates” attached to them? Or was it the “Regarding Island History” tag that piqued his curiosity. He’d tried his little trick of “listening” to the wind, but as often as he’d ventured to his fourth-floor balcony to feel the breeze from the windward side of the island touch his face, he wasn’t getting much. Or rather he was gettingtoomuch. Too many voices, some of them quite archaic, and too many words. He heard the word “scout” a lot, as well as “lucky,” but they didn’t mean much to him.
Sometimes too much information was even worse than not enough, and all Callan had was the butterflies in his stomach to tell him this meeting was going to be more than he could even anticipate.
“Send them in, DeeDee,” he said, smiling. Deirdre Hollister was old enough to be his mother. Pure island native, with skin tanned to leather and hair that had been bleached by sun and wind, she still enjoyed dressing professionally for his office—within reason. During the hot summer months, she wore shorts and sandals, and when the humidity of the winter months got too much for even the staunchest hair product, she insisted on a double braid down her back. Both looks made her appear younger and far more carefree than she acted as his assistant, but she was such a good assistant, he wouldn’t have cared if she’d worn jeans and sneakers.
“Of course,” she said, and then she paused. “Callan? Just to warn you. This is an… interesting bunch.”
Callan grinned. “Can’t wait! Send them in.”
She disappeared and, in a moment, returned, leading in a surprising procession of people.
Marcus and Helen were as he’d pictured—older, a little weathered, but sharp and interested in their surroundings. Once they were in his spacious office, they took their seats on the outer edge of the room, and he looked at the other people who had followed them, raising his eyebrows when he recognized Piers Constantine and his cousin Larissa. Piers and Larissa’s parents were friends of Callan’s father, and he knew they’d come to the island looking for safety after Larissa had been stalked by someone who seemed quite dangerous. They gave him a little nod and a wave, saying they remembered him from various functions they’d attended with their parents, and then they took seats on the outside with Helen and Marcus, along with, if Callan was not mistaken, one of the members of the local constabulary.
The last three people into the room were young, and they stood front and center, a stocky young man with sandy hair over his collar on one side and an absolutely stunning young woman with long dark hair and penetrating brown eyes on the other.
