Page 22

EPILOGUE

Leigh barely had time to get the key into the lock before Hazard scooped her up, his arms strong and sure beneath her legs and back. A startled laugh escaped her lips as she clutched at his shoulders, the familiar scent of him, clean soap, leather, and something uniquely Hazard, filling her senses.

“Tradition, babe,” he murmured as he carried her over the threshold of their new home.

Their home.

Leigh swallowed past the lump in her throat, her fingers tightening reflexively on his shirt as he set her down in the foyer. The house smelled of fresh paint and sawdust, of possibility and new beginnings. She barely had time to take it all in before Hazard’s lips were on hers, warm and firm, stealing her breath the way he always did.

She melted against him, her body remembering the long, agonizing nights in the hospital, the sterile scent of antiseptic and fear clinging to her like a second skin. The image of him, unconscious, fragile, broken, flashed in her mind, a stark contrast to the man now holding her with absolute certainty.

His fractured skull had healed, the bruises long gone, but she could still feel the echoes of her terror, the helplessness of watching him slip away after the kidnapping. He had fought his way back, through the pain, the recovery, the frustration. And now here he was, standing whole and vibrant in their new home, kissing her like they had all the time in the world.

When he pulled back, his smirk was pure Hazard. “Welcome home, Mrs. Hazard.”

Leigh arched a brow, her fingers tracing the edge of his jaw. “You mean welcome to the garage, right? Because let’s be honest. This whole house is just a cover for your true love.”

Hazard scoffed, but the guilty flicker in his eyes was unmistakable. “That is a terrible accusation,” he said, dragging his hands down her sides, pressing in close. “And I’m deeply wounded.”

She laughed softly. “Mmmhmm. As a SEAL wife, I hardly see you now. But with that garage? I feel like I might have to start scheduling appointments.”

His grin was wicked as he leaned in, voice dropping to a husky murmur. “You could always join me in there. I’ve got a workbench.” His eyebrows waggled. “Plenty of sturdy surfaces.”

She let out an exasperated laugh, shoving lightly at his chest. “Oh no, you don’t. You are not distracting me with sex.”

His expression was all mock innocence. “Why would you say such a thing?”

“Because I know you,” she said, tilting her head, eyes gleaming. “But I’ll admit. You do have good ideas.”

Hazard’s expression softened, his arms tightening around her. His playfulness never hid the depth of what he felt for her, and Leigh saw it in the way he looked at her now. She breathed a soft sigh, happy with her decision to go to bat for Jose Molina and Astrid Cristo. They had saved them from imminent death, protected them through that freaking Darién Gap, and delivered them back to the compound. She’d signed off on their immunity, no longer having to flee from Pincho, Alzate, or FBI, CIA, DEA, or the cartel. They were free to love and live out their lives wherever they chose…with all the money they managed to steal from Angel Alzate. But, of course, neither Jose nor Astrid knew anything about that… right ?

She cupped his cheek, feeling the warmth of him beneath her palm, silently thanking the couple who had headed for someplace tropical. “I love you, Archer,” she whispered.

The memory of that moment, the one where she thought she’d lost him forever, flashed again in her mind. The raw, searing pain of it made this moment all the more poignant. They had made it. They survived. And now they had a future, a home, a life, a love that had only deepened through the worst of it.

Hazard’s gaze softened, his smirk giving way to something deeper. “Love you, too, Leelee.”

She let out a breath, leaning her forehead against his, taking in everything, the warmth of his body, the weight of their journey, the sheer rightness of this moment.

They were home.

Skull stood in the wide, airy foyer of Leigh and Hazard’s new Virginia Beach home, Walker’s hand snug in his. From his vantage, the house seemed to glow in the midafternoon sunlight, revealing polished hardwood floors, high ceilings, and gleaming chandeliers that cast warm light onto the guests milling about. Traditional coastal elegance was everywhere, pale blues and sandy neutrals, oversized windows letting in salty breezes from the shore. It was undoubtedly upscale, every corner carefully curated, but it still felt welcoming and full of life.

He couldn’t help but grin at the joyous chaos swirling around him. Hazard was laughing loudly as he ushered visitors in and out of the house with boisterous enthusiasm. A few months back, that carefree laughter would have seemed impossible. Now, his broad-shouldered, other half of the Goldilocks Twins, and his teammate moved without hesitation, his steps sure and steady, living proof that he had beaten the odds and come out stronger.

Skull gave Walker’s hand a gentle squeeze. She looked radiant, as always. Her warm smile lifted every space she entered, and she offered a small wave to GQ across the room. Together, they made their way to the heart of the house. An open-concept kitchen that flowed seamlessly onto a lavish, meticulously landscaped backyard.

Outside, the party buzzed with the enticing scent of a cookout. Smoke curled from a high-end grill where fresh burgers, chicken skewers, and colorful veggie kebabs sizzled. Leigh’s new yard was picture-perfect, a lush lawn surrounded by tasteful hedges, stylish lounge chairs arranged around a large in-ground pool. String lights crisscrossed overhead, waiting for dusk to cast their soft glow. Classic navy-blue umbrellas and carefully chosen potted plants made the space feel like a private, five-star retreat.

Hazard stood by the garage, beckoning for Skull to come check out his pride and joy. Skull left his Hummingbird to chat with another guest and followed the excited wave. The massive garage, large enough for multiple cars and stuffed with brand-new tool cabinets, left Hazard practically bouncing on his heels. Floor-to-ceiling shelving lined one wall, stocked with gleaming automotive gear, spare parts, and equipment. A well-lit workbench occupied the other side, ready for any tinkering or restoration projects a car enthusiast could dream up. His gleaming motorcycle parked in a preferred spot.

“This is a dream,” Hazard said, running a palm over his pristine new tool chest. “Never had a space like this before.”

Skull laughed, patting him on the back. “I get it, brother. I’d be thrilled too if I had all this room to show off my baby.”

“You mean your Porsche?” Hazard teased, winking. “With a place like this, you’d have it spotless every day.”

Before Skull could retort, a burst of laughter from the pool drew their attention. Their teammates were getting rowdy as ever, splashing about in the water, using neon-colored water guns to ambush each other with surprising tactical precision. The shouting and spurts of chlorinated water sent bystanders scrambling for cover. Hazard chortled at the ruckus and dashed off to join them.

Skull wandered back toward Walker, unable to suppress his smile at the camaraderie. Everything here, Hazard’s bright grin, the carefree banter, the new house humming with possibility, made him think of a future he could build, too. While he and Walker chatted with friends by the grill, he gazed across the well-kept lawn to the peaceful pool and felt a gentle warmth in his chest.

“I’d like something like this one day,” he said quietly, leaning closer to Walker. There was a soft glow in her eyes as she looked at him. “A place of our own. You know, cookouts… family… the whole deal.”

She tilted her head, her mouth curving into a sly smile. “Is it the house you want, or just the garage for your Porsche?”

He laughed, giving her a playful nudge. “Can’t lie—I have a weakness for a good garage.”

Her teasing gaze softened, and she squeezed his arm, a silent promise that she wanted that dream with him, too.

Boomer stepped out of the pool, water sluicing off his body in rivulets, his skin still chilled despite the heat of the midday sun. The air crackled with the shouts and laughter of his teammates, locked in a neon-colored war zone of water guns, the plastic barrels pumping streams of electric green and pink liquid across the yard. He swiped a hand over his face, raking damp hair back, and exhaled, momentarily content in the chaos of it all.

Then his gaze landed on a pair of high-heeled sandals—strappy, delicate things that shouldn’t have belonged anywhere near the battlefield but somehow fit perfectly in this scene. His eyes tracked up, slow and inevitable, drinking in the curve of long, toned legs, the elegant dip of a waist, and the hint of mischief in the way the woman balanced on one hip. His stomach twisted when he found himself staring into the striking, dark gaze of Eva “Strekoza” Tarasova.

She crouched down, bringing her face level with his, her expression unapologetically amused yet tinged with something warmer. Interest. Hunger. An unspoken invitation.

“Didn’t peg you for a man who hesitates,” she teased, voice rich with her thick Russian accent, lips curving.

Boomer’s heart stumbled over itself. Not from attraction—though he wasn’t blind, not by a long shot—but from the bitter, familiar ache that had settled into his chest and refused to leave. Taylor. His breath hitched as his mind conjured up the memory of her smile, the way she smelled—sun-warmed skin, salt, and something distinctly her. She’d left, back to her job in Portugal, slipping out of his life like water through his fingers, and he’d been left bereft, drowning in the silence she left behind.

But even before Taylor, he had already lost someone. Lost her in a courtroom, the finality of the judge’s words sealing the fate of his marriage. His ex-wife had tried, God, she had tried, but he hadn’t been there for her, not really. He’d let the grief of his teammate’s death consume him, let it fester, and by the time he’d realized what was happening, it was too late. He hadn’t been enough then.

And now? Now, he wasn’t sure he had enough left to give anyone.

Eva tilted her head, studying him with an intensity that made his pulse jump. “I see ghosts in your eyes, Carter,” she murmured. “Maybe you need something… or someone… to remind you to live.”

His throat worked, but before he could answer, someone’s water gun blast hit him square in the back.

“Fuck!” He flinched, and Eva laughed, the sound dark and throaty, standing back up to her full height.

“I’ll see you later, solnyshko ,” she promised, then turned on her heel and sauntered away, leaving him stranded there, dripping wet and disoriented. Had she just called him little sun? His heart contracted at the thought that such a woman desired him.

Later, in the pool house, Boomer shrugged into a loud Hawaiian shirt, leaving it unbuttoned, sighing at the scratchy towel he was using to dry off. His body still ached—not from exertion, but from the weight of everything pressing down on him.

He had Taylor’s number, and before he could stop himself, he tapped in a message to her. I was thinking that Portugal might be a good place to visit. Do you know anyone who could show me around?

He set the phone down—then immediately heard the soft chime of an incoming reply.

His heart kicked once, hard. He didn’t check it. Not yet.

He sensed her before he saw her.

Eva leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, her lips painted with that same knowing smirk, though something softer lurked in her expression.

Boomer exhaled sharply. “Eva?—”

“I know,” she interrupted gently, stepping inside. “You’re not in the right frame of mind. You don’t want to hurt me. You don’t want to lead me on.” She spoke with a certainty that made his stomach twist. “You think too much.”

He ran a hand down his face. “I just… I don’t have it in me to be what you need.”

Eva’s smile was small, sad, but accepting. “And what do you think I need, dorogaya ?”

Darling ? Oh, damn, he was in trouble here.

She moved closer, the heat of her body brushing against his damp skin. “A ring? A promise?” She shook her head. “Life is too short for that. We both know this.” Her fingers ghosted over his stomach, lingering at the waistband of his shorts. “Doesn’t mean two people can’t console each other.”

Boomer swallowed hard, torn between resisting and surrendering. She was right, damn her. She was right. He was exhausted, and lonely, and maybe, just for tonight…

His phone chimed again. Louder this time.

He looked at it. He couldn’t help it.

Two replies lit the screen, Yes. When can you get here?

That was all Taylor had written. But somehow, it hit him harder than Eva’s kiss ever could.

Boomer reached down and stayed her hand, his dick responding to her touch, but his heart elsewhere.

“I can’t,” he said finally, voice rough. “I thought I could. But I can’t.” Eva stilled. Her fingers slipped from his waistband as he gently released her. “I’m sorry,” he added. “You deserved honesty.”

For a long moment, she didn’t speak. Then she gave a quiet nod. “That is best, but I’m even more sorry.” She stepped back, dignity intact, and slipped out the door without another word.

Boomer sank onto the edge of the couch, running a hand through his hair. His body still ached—but this time, it wasn’t for comfort. It was for something real. Something he hadn’t even realized he was still hoping for.

He looked at the phone again, rereading Taylor’s messages.

Yes. When can you get here?

And somehow, it didn’t feel like responses.

It felt like a beginning.

Later that night, back at Skull’s condo, the party buzz had quieted to a contented hush. The skies outside were inky black, and moonlight filtered through the windows. Walker stood on the balcony, arms folded on the railing as she looked out at the shimmering ocean in the distance. The sound of gentle waves and the hush of night cloaked them in an intimate peace.

Skull approached her slowly, his heart pounding in a way that none of his missions ever made him feel. He slid an arm around her waist. She turned, eyes bright with curiosity and affection, and as she did, he slipped a small box from his pocket.

The ring sparkled the moment he lifted the lid, the jeweler telling him all about the emerald-cut center stone, perfectly set with bezel accent diamonds that appeared to float delicately on each side. It was a ring made for an athletic woman, no prongs to catch. Walker’s lips parted, eyes going wide. Even in the soft moonlight, the piece glinted with brilliance.

Skull swallowed back a sudden wave of nerves, rarely short on bravery, but tonight was different. “Walker, you’re my world,” he said, voice low and full of emotion. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you, building a life we can call our own. Will you marry me?”

Looking breathless, tears trembling at the corners of her eyes, a stunned sort of laughter escaped her as she nodded. “Yes,” she whispered, her voice catching before she flung her arms around him in a fierce embrace.

Time seemed to slow as he slid the ring onto her finger. She pressed her forehead to his, and for a few sweet seconds, there was no one and nothing else, just the two of them and their future unfolding.

She had taught him that his once rigid nature, the very essence of his spirit, could evolve. The courage she’d shown him on opening herself up to him, taught him that embracing tenderness did not weaken his ability to stand firm. It instead allowed him to lead with authenticity and empathy. In her presence, he experienced moments of profound clarity. Understanding that the rock he aspired to be was not a cold monument of impenetrable strength, but a living, breathing foundation built on both enduring stability and heartfelt connection.

Now, as he stood here with her in the hushed twilight, with her answer to his marriage proposal binding them in commitment and love, the promise of new beginnings echoing in every breath she took, Skull recognized that his evolution was a harmonious blend of his father’s unwavering steadiness and Walker’s transformative love. In that delicate synthesis, he finally understood what it truly meant to be a rock: steadfast yet open, powerful yet tender, and forever capable of weathering life’s fiercest storms while nurturing the fragile blooms of human connection. With this woman, all things were possible.

In that moment, Skull knew for certain they would be together forever. All the struggles, all the victories, had led them here. He envisioned the two of them in a home of their own, perhaps with a big garage, sure, but more importantly, with the warm comfort of a life shared together. The joy in her eyes echoed his certainty. This was their happily ever after, one they would shape with every gentle touch and every promise yet to come.

Thank you for reading Skull , the sixth book in my SEAL Team Tier 1 series. I’m so grateful you’re on this ride with me—and I hope Skull and Walker’s story gripped your heart as much as it did mine. I also hope I’ve whetted your appetite for Boomer and Taylor’s scorching romance and the high-stakes suspense of the team’s next mission.

But first, get ready for a new case in my NCIS series. Book Twelve: Shielding Drea

She was sent to the Naval Academy to catch a killer—not fall for the grumpy, off-limits pilot assigned to watch her six.

Special Agent Andrea Hall’s latest assignment puts her undercover, investigating a string of suspicious deaths. But keeping her cover gets a lot harder when Captain Thane Michaels becomes both her handler… and her biggest distraction—right against her six.

Don’t miss the murder, heat, and slow-burn attraction ready to explode.