Page 106 of Tag (The Golden Team #9)

The desert in southern California had a different beauty in spring—wildflowers spilling color across the sand, warm winds carrying the scent of rain. From the porch, I watched Tag adjust the scope on his rifle, the late afternoon light catching in his hair.

Life wasn’t quiet, not exactly. The Golden Team still answered calls, still put themselves between danger and the innocent. But now, our missions started and ended here—at home.

Faron’s truck pulled into the drive, dust curling in its wake. He climbed out, his expression tight, and even before he reached the steps.

“We’ve got a lead,” he said, his voice low. “Girls have been going missing again… this time closer to home.”

Tag’s eyes met mine, and in that silent exchange, the peaceful evening fell away.

Forever was still ours—but so was the fight.

Some fights, I suspected, started with a broken heart.