Page 44 of Jason Bourne (Seals on Fraiser Mountain #7)

Lane

T he drive into the city was quiet. Harris sat cuffed and sullen in the back seat of the cruiser, eyes darting between Zoe and me like a snake searching for a weakness. Jason followed in his truck, never far behind.

“I don’t like how calm he is,” I muttered.

Zoe’s gaze didn’t leave the road. “That’s because men like him always think they’ve got another card to play. Don’t worry—we’ll strip the deck.”

I smiled at her reflection in the window. “You haven’t changed.”

She glanced at me, her tough mask softening for just a second. “Neither have you. Except now you’ve got someone who actually deserves you.”

I looked at Jason’s headlights in the mirror, steady and constant, and my heart squeezed. She was right. For the first time in five years, I wasn’t fighting alone.

When we reached the city precinct, Zoe hauled Harris out without ceremony, her badge flashing under the harsh fluorescent lights. “He’s mine now,” she said, voice cool as steel. “Go home, Lane. Plan your wedding. Leave the dirt to me.”

For once, I didn’t argue.

Jason slid his hand into mine as we turned back toward the truck. “Ready to go home?”

Home. Not just a place. Him. Us. The mountain. My life had finally found its anchor.

“Yeah,” I whispered, smiling up at him. “Let’s go home.”