Page 17

EPILOGUE

Two weeks later…

“By the power vested in me by the state of Washington, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Chase slid his palms along the sides of Scottie’s face before sealing the vows they’d just spoken with a kiss. A slow, unhurried, probably-making-the-judge-blush kiss to start the beginning of the rest of their lives.

There’d been a time not long ago when he’d feared this moment would never come. But it had, and they were here, and now…

She’s my wife.

“Woo hoo!” Lucky cheered with a big, cheesy grin.

A round of joyful clapping and boisterous expressions of congratulations filled the judge’s chambers as Chase’s teammates—along with Natalie, Cassie, and Ellie—celebrated his and Scottie’s special day.

They hadn’t wanted a long engagement or a big, fancy wedding. Apart from the fact that it wasn’t really their style, after everything that had happened, both he and his gorgeous new bride had no desire to wait for their new future to start.

Too much time had already passed between them. Too much time had already been wasted. For them, it wasn’t about the dress, or the flowers, or how many guests were in attendance.

For Chase and Scottie, it was about…

Forever.

And since the judge who’d just married them had also recently sentenced Levi Taylor to life without the possibility of parole, they could start their new life with confidence, knowing the homicidal maniac would never, ever be able to hurt her again.

“Congratulations!” Cassie squealed from Archer’s side. The pretty blonde lawyer practically threw herself in Scottie’s arms.

“Thank you!” Scottie giggled.

“Congrats, brother.” Logan was the first to shake Chase’s hand.

Natalie stood behind her husband, talking and laughing with the bride and other Eagle’s Nest wives. Her arms filled with her and Logan’s adorable, infant son.

Garrison Logan Hayes.

Chase still got teary-eyed thinking of how the new parents had honored Hunter’s memory by using their fallen teammate’s last name as their son’s first.

“Thanks, man.” He shook Logan’s hand with a wide, goofy grin. “It means a lot that you all were here.”

“You kiddin’?” Lucky joined in the conversation. “We wouldn’t miss the chance to welcome you into the club.”

His brows dipped with confusion. “Club?”

“I believe you once called it the ‘Ball and Chain Club’,” the other man teased.

Chase’s shoulder’s shook with laughter as he recalled a previous conversation between he and Ellie.

“Happy to be a part of it, brother.” He grinned.

Archer quickly joined, followed by Van, who’d even worn a nice suit for the occasion. But as Chase accepted the gestures of brotherly love, he found his gaze continuously sliding back to the most beautiful woman in the room.

He was fairly certain the other married men in attendance thought the same thing when they looked at their own respective wives. But for Chase, there was only one woman in his sights.

From now until the end of his days.

“We need pictures!” Ellie reminded everyone before they got too caught up in the moment and left.

Judge Cannon was kind enough to play photographer for the day, and soon they had all the “traditional” pictures to commemorate the best day of Chase’s life.

Him in his navy-blue suit, white shirt, and matching blue tie. Scottie in a simple, ankle-length white dress and matching heels.

One side of her long, sandy-blonde hair pulled away from her face. A simple array of white flowers helped to keep it in place while she held a small, matching bouquet in her hands.

Never wanting to forget the incredible moment, Chase committed the way she looked to memory. When she caught him staring down at her, Scottie looked up at him and smiled. And all he could think was…

Fucking stunning.

“Here you go.” Judge Cannon started to hand Chase back his phone. But he stopped him by asking the man to take one more.

“Hang on!” He spoke loudly enough for everyone to hear. “I have an idea for one more pic. It’s a special one I don’t want to forget.”

“Special?” A look of bewilderment crossed over Scottie’s gorgeous green eyes.

He pulled his bride gently to his side, leaning down to place a soft kiss to her temple. “That’s right, sugar. I want to be sure to include all of us in this perfect day.”

Before she could ask what it was he was going on about, Chase reached into the inner vest pocket of his suit jacket, pulling out the small, square piece of shiny thin paper he’d been hiding.

“Chase…” Scottie looked up at him with more love than a man like him deserved.

“I don’t ever want our baby thinking they weren’t wanted, or that we weren’t over-the-moon excited about the idea of becoming parents.”

A collective “Ahhh…” came from the other ladies in the room as an onslaught of tears filled his wife’s amazing gaze.

“I’ll never understand how I got lucky enough to find you again.”

“Ah, sugar.” He used the back of his knuckles to brush a few fallen tears away. “Luck had nothing to do with it. This is how it was always supposed to be.”

They kissed again because, well, they could. And then the entire group got back together for a final picture.

Chase and Scottie stood surrounded by their closest friends. Together, the bride and groom held the ultrasound image of their tiny, peanut-shaped bundle of joy.

Despite what he’d just told her, he couldn’t deny feeling like the luckiest man in the world. The fact that he was married to the best thing to ever happen to him…knowing they were going to be parents in a few short months…

Chase looked around at those who’d stood witness to his and Scottie’s unbreakable union, becoming struck once again with how blessed he truly was. He truly had it all.

The job. The friends. The girl.

And as he leaned in and kissed his wife in front of God and those around them, he secretly wished for their own precious baby girl. One with soft, blonde waves and beautiful green eyes. Just like her beautiful, sweet mother.

But deep down, boy or girl, it didn’t matter to him in the least. What mattered was the fact that Scottie was finally, officially his. And as long as she was by his side, Chase knew without a doubt…

The best is yet to come.

Kandahar, Afghanistan

Three weeks later…

Van sat in the shadows of the quaint little coffee shop in downtown Kandahar. Watching. Waiting. And hoping like hell the intel his team had received wasn’t a steaming pile of bullshit.

According to the information he and his team had been given, their target frequented the local establishment, using it as a neutral place to meet with men she’d hired to kill. But it had been three days, and so far, there was no sign of Kaamisha Dawari.

Just as he’d done the past three days, Van kept to himself, not talking to anyone else around him. He’d purposely chosen this seat, not only for the low lighting in this area of the coffee shop but also for its proximity to its entrance.

If the Dawari woman showed, he’d know it. But so far…

“It’s been three days, Van.” Logan’s voice filled the tiny mic in his right ear. “Maybe we should call it and regroup when we have better intel.”

He used the now-cooled cup of coffee in his hand to conceal his moving lips. “We’re not fucking calling it,” he spoke quietly as he took a small sip. “She’ll show.”

“Is that your Spidey senses telling you that, or do you know something we don’t?” Lucky chimed in.

The grip on his glass tightened, but he kept control of his frustration toward his smartass teammate and his expression as casual as before. “I’m telling you; she’ll be here.”

He got that the other men were chomping at the bit to finish this thing once and for all so they could get back home to their wives. Hell, Logan and Nat’s kid was only a few weeks old, and Chase and Scottie had barely been married a month.

But this wasn’t about weddings or babies. This was about justice. For Hunter. For all of them. And he’d be damned if, after all this time, they packed up their shit and gave up.

Not now. Not when they were this close to catching the bitch responsible for Hunt’s death and the end of their careers as decorated SEALs.

“One more hour,” he compromised. “She doesn’t show up by then, we’ll call it a night and regroup.”

“One hour,” Logan agreed. “Not a minute more.”

Van settled back in his chair, prepared to spend the next sixty minutes hanging out in a place he was getting damn tired of seeing. While he sat here, trying not to look suspicious or like some creep, Logan and the others were living it up at a hotel two blocks over.

Thank God for satellite phones.

The thought took him off guard because, well, Van didn’t believe there was a God. There’d been a time in his life when he did, but…not anymore.

Oh, he used to believe. Was even known to pray to the Big Guy on occasion. But that was before everything he’d ever cared about was ripped viciously away. Before Van truly understood the true evil that was ever-present in this fucked-up world.

If there was a God, He wouldn’t have let Hunter die. If there was some higher being out there somewhere, looking over all those who were good and pure, then…

My wife and son would still be alive.

So, no. Van no longer counted on a supposed god for any sort of guidance. He hadn’t for a long damn time.

Instead, he relied on his extensive training, experience, and instincts to survive. They’d gotten him this far, and he didn’t see any reason to change course now.

The minutes ticked by as he sat waiting and hoping, but an hour later, there were still no signs of their target. True to his word, Van gave in, finally agreeing to call it a night.

They’d try again tomorrow. And the next day, if it was necessary. In fact, Van would park his happy ass in this same shadowed spot every day for the next fucking month, if that’s what it took.

Because this mission wasn’t like the others he and his SEAL brothers had taken on. This job was personal. A vendetta long-past overdue.

He started to get up, grabbing the half-empty cup he’d planned to toss on his way out. The door to the shop opened, and a woman walked inside.

Van froze, his heart slamming against the inside of his chest. It was her. The Dawari woman was standing less than ten feet from his table.

The woman who’d done more damage than she’d ever fucking know.

“She’s here,” he slowly sat back down, not wanting to draw attention to himself. “Our target just walked through the door.”

Reaching up with his free hand, Van pulled the bill of his dark ballcap down a little more to help conceal his watchful eyes.

Archer’s rumbled voice filled the mic in his ear. “You sure it’s her?”

He studied the Afghani woman from the shadows.

She was dressed in a casual yet traditional garment accepted by the Taliban charge. The long dress was loose-fitting as it hung from its cinched waist, its cream-colored material flowing freely around her long legs.

The bust and sleeves were adorned with a simple pattern embroidered in threads of deep greens, orange, and brown, and she wore an olive-green hijab over her slicked-back hair.

Even from here, Van could see the dark, black strands of her hairline. Her sharp features, flawless skin, and round, intelligent eyes.

“It’s her,” he confirmed.

Logan shot back with a sharp, “We’re on our way now!”

But Van’s focus was still zeroed in on the woman absentmindedly glancing at those around her.

Beautiful.

He nearly recoiled in his seat at the unexpected thought. It was his second what-the-fuck moment of the night, and a reminder he needed to get his ass in the game and stay focused on his team’s objective.

The Dawari woman’s physical appearance only mattered in regard to making a positive I.D. He wasn’t supposed to notice her gorgeous, round eyes, flawless skin, or full, kissable lips.

Pretty or not, she was a fucking terrorist. A killer who’d arranged for the ambush that nearly killed his entire team. So, no. The fact that the woman they were after was even prettier in person than her pictures didn’t mean jack shit.

He was still going to catch her and bring her back to the United States. And Van still intended on finally making the ruthless bitch pay.

The pretty brunette with a heart made of stone stood casually while waiting in line to place her order. As if she was like any other woman on any given day. As if she wasn’t someone capable of orchestrating a man’s cold-blooded murder.

“We’re in the car and headed your way,” Logan informed him a few minutes later. “Any change we need to be aware of?”

“Nothing yet,” Van responded quietly. “She just put in her order.”

His gaze scanned the coffee shop’s small seating area, wondering if he’d missed one of Dawari’s men as they waited. But none of the people at the tables around him set off his radar.

And Van had studied every one of the terrorist bastard’s faces to the point he knew he’d never forget.

“Her people aren’t here,” he shared with the men who were blocks away.

“Maybe she’s early,” Logan offered.

Anything was possible, he supposed.

He watched and waited, assuming she’d soon take a seat at one of the tables. Instead, when their target got the coffee she’d recently ordered, the woman turned around and walked right back out the door.

Fuck!

“She just left.” Van got up, forcing himself to take slow, unhurried steps. “I’m going to follow.”

“Be careful,” Logan advised. “We’ll be there in less than five.”

He tossed his unwanted cup in the trashcan near the door as he pulled it open and stepped out onto the sidewalk. It was early spring, so the temps were still fairly cool, especially at night.

Van didn’t notice the slight chill in the air, or the breeze that carried it past him as he moved. His sole focus was on the woman walking several feet up ahead.

Like any other major city around the world, nightlife in Kandahar was filled with cars, people, and lights. Van counted on the bustle of noise and activity surrounding him to help conceal his presence from the woman he was currently hunting.

Knowing his team was already en route to his location, he decided to close the distance between them a little more. People walked past, seeming to intentionally pretend he wasn’t there.

He got that a lot, people going out of their way to avoid him. Van knew what people saw when they looked at him. What they thought when their eyes met his.

Dark. Menacing. A killer.

It didn’t hurt his feelings or bother him in the least. He was a killer. One trained by Uncle Sam, himself. And he was really, really good at his fucking job.

Speaking of jobs…

The Dawari woman took a sharp right down an alleyway separating two of the city’s brick buildings. Van picked up the pace, unwilling to risk letting her get away.

“She just went north, through an alley.”

“Lucky’s got you on his radar, Van,” Chase joined in the conversation. “Don’t worry. We’ll be there in no time.”

He wasn’t worried. Worrying was a waste of energy and time. And since he and the others were equipped with state-of-the-art tracking devices, there wasn’t a doubt in his mind his team would find him if he veered off-course.

The woman vanished around the corner, and though he knew where she was, Van hated not having her in his sights. He picked up the pace, walking briskly down the busy sidewalk.

“She just went into the alley. I’m going after her.”

“Damn it, Braddock, just keep your ass where it is.” Logan’s disapproving voice grumbled. “We’re almost there.”

Fuck that.

He wasn’t risking losing her when they were this fucking close.

Ignoring his teammate’s order, he continued to follow his original plan. But just as he reached the alley’s dark entrance, a man pushing a wooden cart overflowing with fresh produce hit a crack in the sidewalk. The cart tipped toward the section of sidewalk in front of where Van was walking, its contents spilling directly in his path.

Melons, grapes, fresh figs, and more rolled out of the overturned cart, and Van had to do a quick side-step to avoid tripping. Letting loose with a string of muttered curses, he changed directions, deciding to go around the mess, rather than attempting to make his way through it.

The delay cost him seconds he didn’t have to spare, so he pushed his legs into a swift, purposeful jog. He entered the alley expecting to see Kaamisha Dawari walking several yards up ahead, but she wasn’t there. No one was there.

Just a handful of dumpsters and a few bags of trash.

“Fuck!” He bit the curse out harshly. “I don’t see her.”

“She has to be there,” Archer suggested. “Since you’re already there, and we’re coming up on the alley now, you may as well keep going.”

Keeping his eyes laser-focused on the shadows before him, Van walked in fast, wide strides. His intense gaze scanning every inch of the alley for the woman he couldn’t wait to kill.

“We’re coming up to your north, now,” Logan let him know. “We’ll park at the north end of the alley and wait. You can hop in with us, and we can?—”

The other man’s words drifted away as a knife appeared at the base of Van’s throat. Long and shiny from the brief glimpse of it that he’d seen, the lethal weapon stopped him cold in his tracks.

He stood still, not moving so much as an inch, though he wanted to kick his own ass. He’d been so busy looking for the woman they were after, he’d failed to cover his own back.

“Van?” Logan’s voice filled his ear once again. “You good?”

Van wanted to tell his team what was going on, but he didn’t. Not because he was scared of dying or afraid of getting cut, but because he was too focused on the woman holding the deadly blade.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Donovan Braddock,” the woman’s low, accented voice greeted him from behind.

“Guess I found you… Kaamisha ,” he rumbled her name in an instinctual response.

A soft, breathy laugh blew across the back of his neck as warmth from her feminine form blanketed him from behind. And when she spoke again, the woman brought her lips closer to his ear. Her whispered words as ominous as any he’d ever heard.

“You and your team may have been looking for me, Navy SEAL. But guess what?” She pressed the razor-thin edge of the blade into the skin at his throat. “I have been looking for you, too.”