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“Maybe it’s more important to think about how we live and what we do with our lives, instead of what we have to fear in death.” There was a short silence. “A warrior is always prepared to die. It’s a reality by the very nature of what we do. Right?”
The strangest sensation washed over Ophelia, almost as though she were falling through a long tunnel, and it seemed to take forever before she could collect herself enough to respond. “That is completely right. I agree with all of that.” She would have to ponder his statement more thoroughly.
“That all said. I’m fucking glad the Reaper missed you this time. That’s all purely selfish, babe.”
She was out of her chair as he rose. She slammed against him, praying, wishing that there was a chance for them because Dean was just part of her—in her bones, her blood, flesh, and cells, in her head, thoughts, and beliefs, in her heart, hopes, and dreams.
Dean closed his eyes and swallowed hard, and Ophelia felt so torn up inside, her own vision blurred with tears. She slipped her arms around him, trying to give and receive some measure of physical comfort.
Her name tumbled from his lips in a hoarse whisper as he crushed her to him, his arms like a vise around her. Hauling in a ragged breath, he stood there with her, their bodies welded together by the intensity of his embrace. Ophelia closed her eyes, her body trembling from the explosion of emotion that slammed through her, unconscious of everything except him.
His hold on her eventually slackened, and sighing softly, he slowly combed his fingers through her hair, his touch gentle and soothing. Her heart raced wildly as she savored the rousing feeling that coursed through her. It was like no other sensation she’d ever experienced since they had parted. And if she had any doubts about her feelings for him, they would have been swept away the moment he touched her.
Cupping his hand against the back of her head, Dean nestled her closer against him, his breath warm against her skin as his lips brushed her temple. “We’re both making a big mistake,” he murmured.
She smiled and tightened her arm across his lower back. “That’s a matter of opinion.”
He squeezed her. “Good answer. I like the sass.”
“I should never admit this, but you’re exactly what I need right now.”
He laughed softly, his amusement fading on a sigh of capitulation. “I’ll take the fifth if you ever repeat that I feel the same way.” He pulled back, his expression softening as he slowly rubbed his knuckles along her jaw. “You do have a knack for putting things in perspective.”
“Charge ahead. It’s what we warriors do.”
Dean smiled lopsidedly as he let his hand rest against her neck. “Even warriors need solace, babe.” He stared at her a moment, his eyes suddenly dark and intent, then he exhaled sharply when his phone rang.
He let her go and pulled it out of his back pocket. “Dean,” he said tersely. He listened for a moment, then sighed again. “I’ll be right there.” He disconnected the call and tucked the phone into his back pocket. “That was Granny. Apparently, she has a dire situation she can’t seem to handle right now.”
“Granny?”
“Yeah, I know, right?” She smiled and he touched her arm. “You going to be okay?”
She wrapped her arms around her chest and nodded. “Go take care of business.”
He pulled her into another embrace, his fierce hold centering Ophelia, and everything suspended. Sounds, movement, time, her own breath, even her heartbeat. She couldn’t help remembering what it was like to be kissed by him and to be held by him. There was so much they had to work out, but she was determined they would, no matter where it took them.
It wasn’t really a secret she was harboring against herself. But she wanted Dean Teller more than ever, in more ways than one. That would mean she would have to tell him the truth and risk breaking his heart all over again.
Dean pressed his lips to her forehead. Ophelia closed her eyes, taking comfort from the warmth and physical intimacy. For now, this was enough, knowing that he desperately wanted her, knowing that he had taken a risk in showing up here.
She gave in to fate. For her, there would be no turning back. A lot of things felt uncertain, unsteady in the aftermath of that bullet slamming into her tactical vest, but there were at least two things she knew for sure, deep down in her bones. That she wanted to work toward this second chance to see where it might go, and that Dean Teller had long ago claimed a part of her that she could never take back.
* * *
Dean hated like hell to leave O, but Granny sounded harassed. If that old woman couldn’t handle someone, it was a formidable person for sure. He pulled into the front parking spot and parked beside his dad’s Softail. There was a black SUV that gave him pause. The windows were tinted, and it looked…government issue. He glanced at the plates as he passed, and a man behind the wheel gave Dean the once over.
What the hell?
A man stood just inside the door. Tall, gray suit, definitive bulge in his jacket, about thirty-five. He was also hard and lean with Kevlar soft body armor just visible under his white shirt. The sight of him pulled Dean up short. His hand clenched, then opened. He had no weapon on him and it had been a long time since he’d felt the need for one.
He did now.
This guy and probably the guy in the SUV were capable of handling any situation. But Dean was a Tier One operator, and no agent, secret or otherwise, was going to catch him off guard.
The man turned, his steely eyes sizing Dean up. They narrowed and he opened the door. “Who are you and what do you want here?”
Dean bristled. “Dean Teller, and this is my place of business. What the hell are you doing here?”
