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Exactly this.
EPILOGUE
NCIS Cyber Division,Washington Navy Yard, Washington, DC
Grace sat at her sleek new desk, fingers flying over her keyboard as half a dozen screens reflected code, alerts, and a glowing map of real-time data traffic across three naval sectors.
God, it felt good to behome. But, damn, did she miss Nash. She had a hunch he’d jump at the chance to join NCIS as a field agent. The director had agreed when she’d suggested it, and it was a forgone conclusion when she brought it up to Nash. He couldn’t go back to the SEALs, but he could go back to service. All he’d needed was to attend and complete the Federal Law Enforcement Training Centers special agent course. He was currently there in Glynco, Georgia, the program a too long eighteen weeks.
The office hummed with quiet intensity, analysts working in low voices, systems updating in the background, everything moving at the pace of purpose. Her own corner of the bullpen was bright, organized, hers. A far cry from that beige tomb in Arizona.
Her headset chirped. She tapped it on.
“Grace!” The voice was bright, familiar. “Oh my God, you’re alive!”
Grace laughed. “Hi, Tasha.”
“Don’t ‘hi’ me, you disappeared like a government experiment gone rogue.”
“Technically accurate,” she said, grinning.
“Dinner. My place. You and your mystery man. I’ve got Charlie and Mags coming. Remember Mags from OCS prep?”
Grace’s heart lifted.Connection. Belonging. The old world finding her again.“I’d love that. So will Nash.”
“Ugh, the SEAL. Is he as hot as you made him sound?”
“Hotter,” Grace said smugly. Just as she clicked off the call, a familiar scent hit her like a freight train, leather, spice, sun-warmed arrogance, and her breath caught. She turned.
Nash Rahim stood in the doorway of the Cyber Division like sin dressed in black leather. White T-shirt. Fitted jeans. Coffee in hand. Thatlookin his eyes, the one that made her want to do unspeakable things on federal property. She tried to speak. Failed. Swallowed. Tried again. “You went all the way to Georgia and all I get is a lousy cup of coffee?”
Nash snorted and set the mug on her desk.
“Don’t tell me…” she said, narrowing her eyes. “You cut your FLETC time in half, you overachieving, elite bastard. I had to sweat through eighteen weeks.”
He chuckled, warm and low. “Bitch and complain. I should’ve gone to the Caribbean for nine weeks, sun, sand, and water, instead of dealing with a whiny redhead who thinks fiber optics are a love language.”
Grace shoved back from her desk, rounded it, and launched herself at him. He caught her easily, laughing as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Oh my God, I missed you,” she whispered, voice thick with feeling.
“I missed you more,” he said, the sound rough and low. Then he kissed her, open-mouthed, deep, everything he hadn’t said and everything she already knew. His hands slid into her hair, her body melted into his, and somewhere nearby someone coughed discreetly but neither of them cared.
Back at home, they stepped inside and closed the door behind them, the sound soft, final. Grace kicked off her boots, already shimmying out of her jacket with a lazy sort of grace.
Nash dropped his bag and stretched, the leather of his jacket creaking as he rolled his shoulders.
She eyed him, expression suddenly shifting. “Wait, before we do anything else.” She stepped closer, her eyes soft but lit with curiosity. “You haven’t shown me yet.”
He blinked. “Shown you what?”
“Your badge.” Her voice dipped. “Your gun.”
His breath hitched, not because he was surprised, but because she asked like it mattered. Like it meant something to her, too.
Wordlessly, he pulled the leather case from his jacket and handed it to her.
Grace opened it slowly. Her breath caught.
The NCIS Special Agent badge gleamed against the black velvet. Official. Earned.His.