Page 45 of Declan (Gold Team #5)

Two months later—Rescue, California.

“This is it,” Autumn proclaimed.

Fucking finally .

After spending two weeks in Maryland, we’d returned to Oregon, stayed a little longer, then drove south into California.

We’d explored Crescent City, Eureka, Redding, Nevada City, then we’d stumbled upon a little place called Rescue.

It was twenty minutes east of Folsom and an hour east of Sacramento.

Rescue was pretty much desolate.

But it was perfect.

We could settle, blend in, and disappear.

In Rescue, we could be Autumn and Declan—not Declan the Marine, former special forces turned mercenary. Not Autumn the survivor.

Just Autumn and Declan. Normal, regular, everyday people.

Fucking brilliant .

“You sure?” I asked.

“You’re not?”

We were standing on the side of the road looking at what I knew was twenty acres because that’s what the realtor had told me was for sale. Land. No house, no structures. A blank canvas. My eyes took in the two old, towering oak trees and I saw it—my future laid out in front of me.

Our house. Our kids running around the wide-open space. Our friends and family coming for a visit, drinking a beer in the shade those two trees would provide. Dogs roaming around.

Fucking, fucking , hell .

That golden burn started, my chest filled to bursting, and I knew with certainty we were home.

“Those two oaks stay,” I told her. “Don’t care what kind of house you wanna build but I design the shop and barns. I want horses. And I want a split rail fence around the front. Doesn’t have to be white, but I want the fence. Other than that, the rest is yours.”

“Whatever you want, Dec,” she beamed.

“We’re home, baby.”

“Yeah, we are. Rescue, California.”

Rescue indeed.