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She’d accept those memories, though, as long as she had Travis with her. For always.
Without thinking it through, she lifted her head. He met her gaze.
“We’re getting married,” she told him.
His brow quirked up. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. It’s overdue, don’t you think?”
In response, he bent his head and kissed her.
All around them, FBI agents swarmed. She thought she heard somebody yelling. Miles spoke up and the yelling got worse, but Isabel didn’t care. She was too focused on the here and the now, on the man who she managed to find again, and on the fact they’d both survived all this time ... that their love had.
She wasn’t going to waste a second of it.
“Here to debrief me?” Travis asked, leaning against the kitchen island.
It had been a couple of hours since the absolute shitshow with Beresford.
He’d had a few minutes to contact his family and let them know it was over and that he was safe, but other than that, those hours had been pure chaos.
The man’s body had been taken away and was currently en route to Virginia. His parents had finally been located—they had taken an extended trip out of the country right around the time Beresford missed his meeting with his parole officer.
Travis had no idea how they’d reacted to the news of their son’s death, nor did he care.
He was done and as he shed more of the shock over the day, he realized there was a sensation in his chest he hadn’t felt in years—hell, there were alotof emotions raging inside him that he was struggling to deal with, but the biggest one of all was this strange sort of surprised relief.
He’d faced death more than once and felt just ... apathy. He’d kept pushing on for his family, no other reason.
Today, he’d felt real fear for the first time in so long, he couldn’t remember. Maybe it was thefirsttime since he’d started down this twisted road. The fear, relief, shock, so many other emotions that had overflowed inside earlier when Isabel had come running into his arms were still pumping in his veins, but he had a little more control now—a little.
But that scant bit of control was enough to let him meet Miles’s stare levelly, not showing a hint of emotion, even when Jung and two other agents crowded into the room with her.
“We’ve got questions,” she said shortly. Her eyes went to Isabel. “Ms. Franklin, we need some privacy.”
Isabel didn’t say a word as she pushed away from the counter, but Travis caught her hand, staring at Jung with a flinty expression. “This is her home, Jung. I think you canaskfor privacy if youwantit, instead of making demands.”
The agent’s brows dropped over her eyes and her face took on a mulish expression.
Travis laced his fingers with Isabel’s. “Or I can just not tell you a fucking thing. Ask Miles. If I don’t want to talk to you, I sure as hell won’t. So, your choice, Jung. You can be polite to Ms. Franklin and get what you want, or you can be rude and bang your head against a brick wall for as long as it takes for you to get the point.”
“If you think you can throw your weight around and still keep working with me—”
“I thought you’d heard,” Travis said, cutting her off with an easy smile. “I told Miles I’m out. This was my final job. I’m done.”
Jung narrowed her eyes, opened her mouth, then closed it. Finally, she blew out a breath and looked at Isabel. “If you would excuse us for a brief time, we need to talk.” She gave Travis a pointed look. “There are certain details I need to go over. One of my agents can escort you up to your office.”
“Lovely,” Isabel said with a saccharine smile. She turned to Travis, kissed him, then headed out of the kitchen. She lingered by Miles and touched her fingers to his cheek. He covered her hand with his and smiled, one of the rare, gentle smiles few others probably saw.
That smile was gone the second Isabel pulled away and Miles looked at Travis. “Don’t suppose there’s any coffee left?”
“Enough for a cup,” he said easily. He poured enough for his mentor, then without batting a lash, poured the rest into his own mug. He wasn’t sure he likedortrusted her, so she wasn’t getting shit from him. Even if it was Isabel’s coffee. “No more left and that was the last Bella had in the house. Time for a grocery run.”
Judging by the faint twitch of Miles’s lips, the man saw right through him. But he took his coffee and said nothing as he moved toward the large, wooden, farmhouse-styled table by the windows facing out the water. “Shall we get this done, Jung?”
Jung and one of the other agents joined him, while the third, a tall, skinny pale man with close-cropped black hair that was already starting to thin took up a position by the door. He looked about as happy to be there as Travis was to have him there. So did the other agent, a Latina who wore her hair swept into a high, tight ponytail while narrow, gold-framed lenses attempted to hide a spectacular face.
Travis didn’t recognize them, but he had no doubt they were Miles’s. The man wouldn’t have brought anybody he didn’t trust implicitly in on the op.
