Page 17

EPILOGUE

Rafe Owens’ plantation

Somewhere near Charlotte

Three months later…

“Seriously, Alice.” Evie Mitchell, Bones’ fiancée, shook her head in awe. “It might be small, but this is one of the most beautiful weddings I’ve ever been to.”

Shadow…no, Alice …was still getting used to hearing people call her by her real name. She’d answer to either, of course. But today of all days, it was good to simply be…

“Alice Garrison.” Nicki McAllister toyed with the sound of the name. “It does have a nice ring to it. Speaking of rings…” Apollo’s wife reached out and lifted Alice’s left hand. “I have to hand it to Dig, the man does have good taste.”

“Of course, I do.” Her husband sidled up beside her.

With his hand around her beaded waist, Slade leaned in and pressed his lips to the top of her veiled head.

“Hey, you.” She looked up at the most handsome man to have ever put on a tux.

“Hey, yourself.” He went in for a more proper kiss.

The women around them all began to croon.

“Awwww…” The group of Tac-Ops wives gave a collective sigh.

Falcon’s wife was next in line to chime in.

“I’ll admit,” Avery Morgan gave the happy couple a big, toothy smile. “I never thought I’d see the day when Slade Garrison would say ‘I do’.”

“You and me, both,” Alice wrapped an arm around her husband.

Man, she really liked how that sounded.

A popular song began to play, and the other women began grabbing each other to dance. But she stayed right where she was, because there was nowhere else she’d rather be. Except maybe in the honeymoon suite at the hotel where they planned to spend the night.

“Rawlins called,” Slade told her. “Said he was sorry he couldn’t make it, but to make sure you knew there was a gift on the way.”

“Oh, no.” Alice chuckled. “Should we be scared?”

“With that man? You never can tell.”

No, you definitely couldn’t. But something told her whatever Baker Rawlins had purchased would be something the two of them could put to good use.

Alice was so thankful for the man and his willingness to step in to help the team. If not for him, she and her father would both be dead. And Michael Stanton and his cronies would still be roaming free.

Thankfully, that wasn’t the case.

Stanton’s lawyer managed to get him a deal designed specifically to avoid the death penalty. With what he’d confessed—and a team of highly trained agents who were truly loyal to their country—there was enough evidence against him to all but guarantee a conviction.

She knew this. The former senator knew this. And apparently, his lawyer did, too.

It’s why Stanton was quick to give up Andrew Reiner and Doug Easton as the two men who helped in the attempted murders of her and her father. Both Reiner and Easton also pled guilty, which allowed everyone involved to avoid a lengthy and emotional trial.

Alice’s blue gaze slid across the large ballroom to where her father and Falcon’s brother stood talking. The expression on Coulter Morgan’s face looked serious, as did her father’s.

Her gut tightened a bit because, whatever they were discussing, it didn’t look good. And given she knew the truth about Colt’s job…

“I’ll give you a penny for your thoughts.”

She looked up to see Slade’s breathtaking smile, loving that it was all for her. “I was just thinking what a lucky girl I am.”

“Liar.” He nudged her with a knowing grin.

“That’s not a lie.” She shook her head with an adamant, “That’s not a lie. I am lucky.”

More so than she had the right to be.

“Oh, I know you are.” Her husband teased. “But that’s not what you were thinking.”

Damn. She forgot for a moment how good he was at reading her face.

“You know, this was a whole lot easier when I was just a voice in your ear.”

“Maybe.” He pulled her body flush with his and leaned in. “But being face-to-face…” His lips feathered over hers in a barely there kiss. “Is a hell of a lot more fun.”

Alice threw her head back and laughed. “That it is, Mr. Garrison. That, it is.”

“You gonna tell me what you were thinking?”

“Man, you are like a dog with a bone, you know that?” She gave in when he simply smiled back at her with an expectantly arched brow. “Okay, fine. I was watching my father and Colt talk.” She motioned to where the two men were still standing across the room. “Not sure what’s going on, but it looks pretty serious.”

And yeah, after nearly losing her father to Stanton’s bullet, she’d turned into an overprotective daughter.

So sue me.

“Well, it is Coulter Morgan,” Slade grinned. “The guy’s probably trying to talk your dad into investing in his latest get-rich-quick scheme.”

Alice chuckled, but inside her stomach grew tight. Because there was a lot more to Coulter Morgan than Slade or the other members of Tac-Ops knew.

And if the truth were to ever come out…

“Let’s go.” She reached down and grabbed Slade’s strong hand. “Let’s say our goodbyes and then blow this joint.”

“In a hurry to start the honeymoon, Mrs. Garrison?” He allowed her to pull him along.

Alice stopped mid-stride to turn back around, sending the man of her dreams another smile. “No.” She shook her head as she rose onto her tiptoes to give him a kiss. “I mean, of course, I am, but it’s more than that.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded and placed a palm on his suited chest. “I’m in a hurry to start this new life that we’ve been blessed with. To wake up to this face as many mornings as possible. To fall asleep in these arms every night that you’re home.”

“And when I’m not home?”

“I’ll be in your ear, ready to have your back. Just like you had mine.”

Slade’s gaze became glossy, and for a moment she thought for sure the man was going to cry. Instead, he leaned down, taking her by complete surprise when he scooped her off her feet.

“Slade!”

“Fuck the goodbyes.” He spun them around and began marching toward the room’s nearest exit. “We’ll see them all again soon enough.”

Alice laughed even as she tried arguing that they couldn’t leave. “We can’t just?—”

“It’s our wedding, princess. We can do whatever the hell we want.”

She glanced back from over his shoulder at the small crowd. They were laughing and talking. Dancing and singing. Even her father wasn’t paying any attention to the fact that they were walking away.

A smile spread across her face, deciding Slade was right. This was the perfect time for their departure. And the sooner she and Slade checked into their honeymoon suite downtown…

She grabbed the side of his rugged face and brought his mouth to hers. His steps faltered, but he never came close to letting her go.

He’ll never let me fall.

Those words were true in both their literal and figurative forms. And as he broke away from the kiss to look down into her eyes, she knew her life had truly begun.

“I love you, Alice. Or Shadow. Or whatever other name you want me to call you.”

“Yours.” She stared back at her future. “I just want you to call me yours.”

* * *

One week later…

Coulter Morgan looked both ways before he crossed the street. As he walked toward the art gallery’s entrance, he gave his surroundings a quick, assessing glance. Tonight was the night shit was going to come together, and he couldn’t wait for it to be over.

After months of planning, surveilling—and endless conversations with the pretentious assholes he’s just as soon shoot than see again—he was finally going to get his meet-and-greet with the man his agency has been after for years.

He glanced down at the overpriced watch he’d been given specifically for this occasion. Like his designer suit and tie…and hell, even his uncomfortable as shit shoes…the watch was a prop to help pull off the dangerous one-man show.

The role he was playing was the same one he’d been performing for the past several weeks. A rich, entitled, American heir willing to spend millions on his own personal sex slave.

Cases like this were the absolute worst. Their targets the sickest of the sick. Twisted freaks who got their rocks off by forcing themselves onto the woman they’d kidnapped and, oftentimes, beaten.

That was the very sort of man Coulter was on his way to meet. The kind of man he himself had been pretending to be.

I can’t wait to rid the world of this sick son of a bitch.

He stepped up to the guarded door, toward the well-dressed man standing guard. The very large, very serious-looking man stared him up and down.

“Good evening.” Coulter flashed the man his best rich man smile.

“Invitation.” The man grumbled.

Apparently, that was the only greeting he’d receive.

“Of course.” He pulled out the fancy envelope he’d talked his way into receiving.

The massive wall of muscle studied the invite more carefully than one would normally expect.

Coulter was ready for the close inspection, however, because he knew what tonight was really about. This wasn’t simply an innocent gathering of appreciation for the showcased artist’s craft, but rather a meeting of the rich and twisted designed for the gallery’s real reason for existing.

The bouncer returned the thick cardstock and opened the door. As Coulter stepped inside, he wondered if the icy reception was because the other man disapproved of his boss’s underhanded dealings, or if the big guy showed the same sunny disposition to everyone who crossed his path.

Can’t blame the guy for thinking I’m a disgusting pig. I feel like one, and I’m only pretending.

How these so-called men lived with themselves, he’d never know. Which was why he had been working so damn hard to weasel his way into their nauseating circle.

Coulter glanced around, doing his best to fit in with the uber rich crowd. He could practically smell the money rolling off these perverts’ backs, and he couldn’t wait to be done with this job so he could finally move onto the next.

“Champagne?”

A young woman appeared suddenly by his side. She was dressed in a scrap of black lace that barely covered, well, anything. Balanced in her hand was a large, round tray topped with several filled-to-the-brim crystal flutes.

“Thank you.” Coulter selected the nearest flute, giving the youthful server a nod and a smile.

His chest tightened as she walked away, his eyes following her every move. Though it was impossible to know for sure, he prayed like hell she wasn’t one of the girls being auctioned off soon.

“She’s a little young for you, isn’t she, Colt?”

Every muscle beneath his designer suit froze. That voice. He knew that voice. Only…

No, no, no, no, no. It can’t be her. She isn’t supposed to be here.

He’d personally seen the names of those who’d been given invitations, and this woman was not on that list. But as he slid his gaze to the woman standing at his left, Coulter’s fears were brought to fruition.

Son of a…

“Alex?” He hurriedly glanced around before looking back at Falcon’s sister-in-law.

Alexandria Webb was the bane of his very existence. Mainly because the gorgeous brunette starred in the best of his dreams while in reality, well…

The stunning woman would barely give him the time of day.

“What are you doing here?” He demanded a bit more harshly than was his intent.

“Wow.” She blinked those big brown eyes of hers. “Good to see you, too. And I was about to ask you the same thing. Because, well, the thing is… I’m an artist.”

“So?”

“So it makes sense for me to be here. You know, at an art gallery? But you?—”

“You have to leave,” he cut her off sharply. “Now.”

Alex blinked again, her dark brows dipping low with confusion. “Excuse me?”

“I’m serious, Alex. This place…” He looked around again. “You don’t want anything to do with these people. Trust me on this.”

“Okay, first of all, I’m not sure how you got invited to tonight’s showing. But I was given a personal invitation by the gallery owner himself.”

The twisting Coulter felt in his gut the second he’d seen her gorgeous face worsened. “Gordon Crawford personally asked you to come here?”

“You don’t have to sound so surprised. I do own my own successful gallery, you know. Albeit on a much smaller scale. But yes, Mr. Crawford stumbled upon my place last week. Apparently, he liked what he saw and gave me an invitation on the spot.”

Liked what he saw. I just bet the bastard liked what he saw.

Long legs. Straight, dark hair that was cut in a sharp angle at her delicate jaw. Eyes Coulter could get lost in if she’d let him, and a set of full, ruby red lips he wished like hell he could taste.

In fact, when it came to this woman, there wasn’t a single thing he didn’t like. Even her feisty, stay-away-from-me attitude where he was concerned was a giant freaking turn-on.

I’m pathetic, I know. But hey, at least I own that shit.

As for Alex being here by way of Crawford’s personal invitation…this was bad. Like really, really bad.

“Alex, listen to me.” He pleaded with her. “I promise I’ll explain everything later. But right now, I really need you to?—”

“Mr. Morris!” A commanding voice boomed over the low humming of the well-dressed crowd.

Of. Fucking. Course.

Coulter looked away from Alex’s stare to see the man of the hour weaving his way through the dense crowd. Luckily, he was stopping and shaking hands with those he’d thought worthy enough to allow here, which would probably buy him an extra minute or two…at best.

He locked gazes with Crawford from across the room. The man eyed him closely, and even from here it was clear he’d taken notice in the familiar way Coulter and Alex were conversing.

Think, Coulter. Think!

If Alex blew this for him, they would both end up dead. And as the powerful man made his way closer, there was only one plausible idea racing through his head.

He slid his beseeching gaze back to Alex, who was still looking at him as if he’d grown two heads. “I promise, I’ll explain everything later,” he repeated. “But for the sake of both of our lives, I need you to play along.”

“Play along?” She frowned again. “With what?”

They were running out of time, and he knew what had to be done. She’d hate it. Might even slap him into next week. Either way, he was damn good at improvisation. So he was ready for whatever reaction the spunky woman decided to give.

Praying the plan he’d come up with wouldn’t end with Crawford signing their death warrants, Coulter leaned in close and cupped her cheeks with both of his hands.

“Colt, what are you?—”

“For the rest of tonight, my name is Cole Morris. And I’m not your sister’s brother-in-law…I’m your date.”

“You’re my what?”

“Here he comes. I’m serious, Alex. If you blow my cover, we’ll both wind up dead.”

“Your cover?”

“Please, Alexandria. Do us both a giant favor, and just…play along.”

He pulled back to look into her mesmerizing stare. Alex opened her luscious mouth, most likely to search for more answers he couldn’t give.

But rather than attempt another half-assed explanation, Coulter held her flawless face in his hands, and then…

He kissed her.