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“Thanks. I’ll be in touch.”
One-Mile nodded at the colonel, then shook hands with Jack Cole. Admittedly the guy hadn’t said much…but he had a weird feeling the cagey Cajun was actually running the show. Then he sent Forsythe a head bob. “See you around.”
As he turned for the door, eager to get back to Brea, the other guy jogged to catch up. “Hey. I know exactly one person here. You. Got time for a beer? We could talk shop.”
He peered at the late-afternoon sun. Brea had said to come back tonight. How long did seniors’ Bible study last? Since he had no flipping clue, he shrugged. “Why the hell not?”
Forsythe flashed him a movie-star smile. “You turned out all right, Serial Killer.”
“Verdict is still out on you, Jock Strap,” he teased.
Trevor laughed. “So where do you get a decent beer in this swamp?”
“Follow me.”
One-Mile hopped in his Jeep and waited for the other guy to follow in what seemed like his rented sedan. All the while, questions kept niggling at him. Was Valeria safe in Florida? Who had taken over Emilo Montilla’s splinter faction of the Tierra Caliente cartel after his death? And why would the organization suddenly get desperate enough to threaten innocent women days after one of their bosses had bit a bullet?
Brea breathed into the blessed silence filling the house. Finally, the never-ending Bible study luncheon had concluded and people headed out. Jennifer and Daddy decided to go to a nearby Mexican food place for an early dinner. They’d invited her along, but they needed time alone, too. With all her father’s heart issues, which thankfully seemed to be stabilizing, they’d been through some tough times.
Besides, this gave her an opportunity to fix her face before Pierce returned to ask Daddy for her hand. She was nervous as all get-out.
What if he said no? His blessing wasn’t a given…
Then she’d have to chart her own path. It would be nice if Daddy accepted her choice of husband and gave his approval. If he refused, it would break her heart to defy her father, but for Pierce—for their love—she would.
As she finished up the dishes from this afternoon’s luncheon and started the dishwasher, her phone rang. When she scanned the screen, she smiled. It did her heart good to see Pierce’s name pop up. For months, she’d tried not to wonder if she would ever see it again.
“Hi.” She sounded as giddy as she felt.
“Hi yourself. I was having a beer with a guy I know from way back and I was about to grab a bite out when I realized I’ve never actually taken you on a date. How about dinner, pretty girl?”
Brea giggled. “We really did everything completely out of order.”
“It’s my fault. Feel free to blame me.”
She knew she’d had a hand in all this, too, but she liked to tease him. “Careful, or I’ll decide everything in our married life will be your fault.”
“It probably will be.” As she laughed, he pressed her. “But seriously, dinner?”
“Sure.”
They decided to try out a new bar and grill that had a little bit of everything on their menu.
“Want me to pick you up?”
“Where are you now?” she asked.
“Sitting at their bar.”
Was he silly? “Then there’s no point in you coming all the way back here. I’ll just meet you there. It shouldn’t take me more than twenty minutes.”
“Okay, that gives me time to run a quick errand down the street and grab a table.”
Brea grabbed her purse and her car keys. “See you shortly.”
“Can’t wait.”
She hung up, texted her father that she’d be back by seven and to please be home, then she hopped into her car. When she arrived at the restaurant, Pierce stood waiting for her inside the foyer.
A giant smile crossed her face when their eyes met. “Hi.”
How amazing would it be to come home to his face every day? To wake up to his face every morning? To peer into his face every time he made love to her? Her smile widened, and she knew she probably looked sappy and lovesick. She didn’t care.
Pierce had changed her life.
He was even less shy about showing everyone his feelings. He simply pulled her into his arms and dropped a long kiss on her mouth that was so passionate her toes curled inside her espadrilles.
He gave her tongue one last stroke and reluctantly pulled away. “Hi. I wanted to do that earlier, on your front porch. But with all the ladies looking on…”
“Probably not the best idea,” she agreed.
A hostess cleared her throat. “Your table is ready. If you’ll follow me…”
Pierce stepped back to let Brea go first, like a good gentleman. She ignored the gaping of a sad Hispanic woman who had just walked in and trailed the hostess through the dim restaurant. He dropped his hot palm on the small of her back all the way to a booth in one dark corner. She sat and slid in on one side. Instead of sitting on the other, Pierce plopped next to her, nudging her almost against the wall, his big body pressed against hers from shoulder to knee.
