Page 57 of Rescued By the Operative

My ears are ringing.

“Your timing with the ‘I love you’ stuff leaves something to be desired,” I manage to wheeze out.

“Can you move? Can you wiggle your toes?”

I can. I can wiggle my toes and turn my neck. My body is definitely going to hurt like a bitch tomorrow and the next day, and the next. But I’m going to be OK.

I think.

“Yes,” I rasp back. “And I love you, too.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Jake

The Prophet has been taken to a secret location awaiting indictment on federal charges.

All the elders have been rounded up and are awaiting the same fate, thanks to a special team of federal agents waiting for them at the fake address given to them by Ennis.

They haven’t recovered Floydene’s body. She’s presumed dead, but they’re still sorting through the rubble.

As wrong as she was, she didn’t have to die that way. It’s galling to think of all these men living out their lives in prison for murder and other charges, while a woman who did their dirtiest work may never even have a marked grave for her children to visit one day.

But that’s what happens. Men like this use the women who comply with their rules, and the women think this will keep them in their favor. But in the end, when the shit hits the fan, these women are expendable. It’s sad.

The rest of us are OK. A bit battered and bruised. But we’re fine. And we survived.

Nelly takes that long break that she promised herself.

I go with her to North Carolina for two weeks.

We come back to Montana engaged.

Apparently, two weeks’ vacation is not enough, according to one person who wants to show his gratitude.

A destination wedding would be a massive ask for everyone we want to be at our nuptials.

But, when we have friends like Joaquin and Jefferson, whose uber-wealthy father is especially grateful for the role the Wiley gang played in rescuing and protecting his daughters-in-law, money and inconvenience suddenly become less of a problem.

Nelly and I would never ask, of course. Grady insisted on it as soon as he heard that Nelly and I were engaged.

So the Wiley gang has the enormous fortune to board a private jet and spend two weeks resting at a five-star hotel in St. Lucia.

Nelly and I felt uneasy about accepting this much generosity from someone we barely knew.

We still feel strange about it amid the excitement the night before the wedding.

“Once he gets it in his head, there’s no stopping him. So please quit worrying about how much Grady is spending,” says Jefferson as our huge group takes over the beachfront bar.

“I just don’t want the man to be so grateful he bankrupts himself,” worries Nelly, sipping on a rum drink.

Joaquin takes a swig of beer and peers over at Nelly, bemused. “I don’t think we have anything to worry about except making sure this guy’s brother doesn’t get him in too much trouble tonight.”

On cue, Ennis stops by our table and says, “Hey, I know what we need to do tonight before it gets too dark. I found a guy who said he could take us cave snorkeling!”

Nelly chokes on her rum drink. Joaquin, Jefferson, Wylie, Curly, and others I can’t name all shout this idea down.

I stare at my brother like he’s lost his marbles. “No more caves. Ever.”