Chapter 12 #2
“Nash told you all that?” Amy asked, surprised.
“No, but Colt texted Blaze, who told Eden, who told the rest of us,” Kelly explained. “The Cross family gossip telegraph is terrifyingly efficient.”
Amy shook her head, bemused. “I’m starting to realize that.”
“So, witness protection,” Cheryse said as she stirred something that smelled divine. “That must have been so difficult.”
There was no pity in her voice, just simple acknowledgment, and Amy found herself relaxing further. “It was. Is. Especially after my mother died. She was my only connection to … before.”
The women nodded, understanding in their eyes. Amy wondered how many of them had their own stories of loss and reinvention, of finding themselves caught up in something bigger and more dangerous than they’d ever imagined.
“I guess I could go by Amy to everyone,” she said suddenly, the words spilling out before she could reconsider. “That’s my real name.”
The kitchen went still. Sadie’s arm tightened around her shoulders, a gesture of support.
“Amy,” Sierra repeated, testing the name. “It suits you.”
From the doorway came Brooks’s voice. “Is that your real name?”
Amy turned to find him standing there, his expression not accusatory but keenly interested. Behind him were Nash, Porter, and Colt, clearly having been drawn by the sudden silence in the kitchen.
She nodded, suddenly feeling as though she was shedding a skin she’d worn for so long she’d forgotten it wasn’t her own. “Amy Emma Roberts.”
Nash moved to her side immediately, and the simple act of standing beside her rather than in front of her—supporting rather than shielding—made her heart swell with affection. “Amy,” he said quietly, her real name on his lips sending a shiver down her spine.
“Did I miss something?” Marshall asked, entering the kitchen with Trey and the other Stone brothers.
Colt, never one for subtlety, announced, “Her real name is Amy. She’s telling everyone.”
“And Colt punched her boss in the face,” Porter added with a stern look at his brother.
He stood with the straight-backed posture of a man accustomed to responsibility, his weathered face showing the years of sun and wind that came with ranch work.
Despite his imposing presence, there was a gentleness in the way he looked at his wife—a softness reserved only for family.
The kitchen erupted into exclamations and questions, everyone talking at once.
“Alright, everyone quiet,” Trey commanded, his voice cutting through the chaos with practiced authority. “Colt, explain. Briefly.”
Colt looked unrepentant as he recounted their meeting with Dr. Martinez—how they’d found him waiting, how he’d delivered the Ferrantes’ message, and how Colt had responded with his fist. He stood with the easy confidence of a man who knew his own strength, his ranch-honed muscles evident even beneath his casual shirt.
“The weasel had it coming,” he concluded.
“Talking about ‘professional courtesy’ while delivering a thinly veiled threat.”
Porter shook his head, though Amy thought she detected a hint of pride beneath his disapproval. “You couldn’t have tried talking first?”
“We did talk,” Colt retorted. “He didn’t listen.”
“Maybe he’ll listen better with a broken nose,” Hunter suggested, earning a sharp look from his wife.
“He clearly deserved worse,” Marshall said flatly.
“He did deserve worse, but the important thing,” Nash interjected, “is that we now know for certain the Ferrantes are aware of our search. They know about Amy’s research, they know about our investigation into Mount Olympus, and they’re concerned enough to send a warning.”
Nash had always been the family mediator, Amy realized.
Even among his larger-than-life brothers, his quiet intelligence and thoughtful approach created a natural balance.
He stood with the confidence of a man comfortable in his own skin, but without the need to dominate that she saw in Porter or the physical intimidation that seemed second nature to Colt.
Brooks nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Which means we’re on the right track.”
“Or they want us to think we are,” Trent countered. “Misdirection is a classic tactic.”
“Either way,” Trey said, “we need a plan.”
The mood in the kitchen shifted, the air suddenly charged with purpose.
The women seamlessly continued their dinner preparations while the men gathered around the large island, their expressions intent.
“The first thing we need to determine,” Brooks began, “is the Ferrantes’ actual claim to the gold. Martinez mentioned they’ve been searching for generations, which suggests a historical connection.”
Amy hesitated, then spoke up. “From what I’ve discovered, my father was investigating their shipping company—Ferrante Imports.
They were smuggling antiquities, artifacts …
and gold. My father witnessed a murder. He was going to testify against them.
That’s why we were in WITSEC, and that’s why they killed him. ”
The room fell silent again, everyone turning to look at her.
She felt vulnerable sharing this piece of her past, but also strangely liberated. After eight years of keeping secrets, letting them go felt like setting down a heavy burden.
“That fits with what I found in Bill Harris’s finances,” Brooks said after a moment. “Regular payments from an offshore account, meeting with a known Ferrante associate who specializes in acquiring valuable items …”
“What if the Ferrantes were connected to the conquistador gold and the Rockwell gold?” Nash suggested.
Blaze leaned forward. “That would explain why they’re tracking our families. They think we know something they need.”
“Or they’re worried we’ll find something before they do,” Chance added.
Porter frowned, his expression thoughtful. “If they’ve been searching for generations, why haven’t they found it yet?”
“Maybe they have,” Sierra suggested, setting a bowl of salad on the island. “Maybe they found part of it, like we did, but not the main cache.”
“Or maybe they know where it is but can’t get to it,” Trent added. “Underwater caves can be logistically difficult to explore without specialized equipment and training.”
Amy watched the families work through the problem together, each bringing their unique perspective and skills.
The Cross brothers—Porter with his leadership, Colt with his straightforward approach, Blaze with his analytical mind, Chance with his law enforcement insight, and Nash with his legal reasoning.
And the Stone brothers—Trey with his tactical planning, Brooks with his FBI connections, Marshall with his pilot’s spatial awareness, and Hunter and Trent with their tactical expertise as well.
The Cross wives and Stone wives integrated seamlessly into the discussion, offering insights and practical solutions: Sadie, with her sunshine optimism and practicality; Sierra, with her medical knowledge and calm logic; Eden, with her artistic perspective and unexpected insights; Kelly, with her grounded nature and intuitive understanding; Cheryse, with her salon-honed ability to read people; Kensi, with her attorney insight and storyteller’s grasp of motivation; Liberty, with her organized approach to complex problems; Ava, with her nurturing instincts and practical solutions; and Sierra, with her unexpected connections and resourcefulness.
They were an extraordinary team—a family forged not just by blood and marriage, but by shared adventures, dangers overcome together, and unshakable loyalty.
And somehow, miraculously, they had welcomed Amy into their midst without hesitation.
As the discussion continued and dinner preparations moved forward, Amy found herself helping Sadie arrange plates on the counter. “Is it always like this?” she asked quietly.
Sadie smiled, a knowing look in her eyes. “The chaos? Yes. The gold hunting? Also yes.” She arranged silverware with efficient movements. “But you know what? I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”
“Even with the danger?” Amy pressed, needing to understand how this woman—so similar to her in name but so different in circumstance—had adapted to this extraordinary life.
“Especially with the danger,” Sadie replied, her voice soft but certain. “Because that’s when you see who people really are. And these people?” She gestured to the room full of Crosses and Stones. “They’re the best people I know. When everything is falling apart, they stand together. Always.”
Amy glanced across the room, finding Nash deep in conversation with Trey and Brooks. As if sensing her gaze, he looked up, their eyes meeting across the crowded kitchen. The smile he gave her—warm, reassuring, just for her—made her heart flip in her chest.
“I can see that,” Amy said softly.
Sadie followed her gaze to Nash and smiled knowingly. “It’s worth it,” she said simply. “All the craziness, all the danger—it’s worth it for what you find along the way. Plus, when you find a man you love, well, that’s reason enough.”
The timer beeped, calling Sadie’s attention back to the oven. As she moved away, Amy found herself watching the families interact.
They had built something beautiful amidst the danger and chaos—something real and lasting. Something Amy had thought lost to her forever when she’d entered witness protection.
A commotion by the door drew everyone’s attention as Cheyenne burst in, slightly breathless.
“Sorry I’m late,” she announced, making a beeline for Nash.
“Traffic was awful, and then Micah insisted on stopping for—” She broke off when she spotted Amy, her eyes widening. “Oh! I need to hug you, Sadie!”
Amy felt herself blush at the possessive phrasing. “Hi.”
“It’s Amy,” Nash said quietly.
“What?” Cheyenne paused.
“My name,” Amy smiled. “My real name.”
Cheyenne grinned. “Well, then I still need to hug you.” She flung her arms around her in an enthusiastic hug. “I’ve been dying to meet you! Nash has told me absolutely nothing, which means you must be really special.”
Nash groaned. “Cheyenne, maybe let her breathe before you start the interrogation?”
Cheyenne released Amy but linked their arms together. “Ignore him. Big brothers think they know everything.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “But between you and me, Nash is the good one. Don’t tell Porter I said that.”
Porter, overhearing, rolled his eyes. “I’m right here, Cheyenne.”
“I know,” she replied cheerfully, not the least bit repentant.
Amy couldn’t help but laugh at the exchange. Cheyenne had the same confident Cross presence as her brothers, but with a vibrant energy that was entirely her own. Her easy acceptance made Amy feel instantly welcomed into this inner family circle.
“Dinner’s ready!” Sadie called, and the room reorganized itself with practiced efficiency. Children were herded to a separate table, plates were filled, and seating was arranged.
Amy found herself between Nash and Cheyenne, surrounded by Crosses and Stones and their extended family, the conversation flowing around her like a river. They included her naturally, explaining inside jokes, filling in backstory, and asking her opinion as if she’d always been part of the group.
“So,” Cheyenne said around a bite of grilled chicken, “Nash tells us you’ve been researching Porter Rockwell’s gold.”
Amy nodded, grateful for a topic she felt confident discussing. “Yes, though I’m beginning to think it might just be a legend that became confused with the conquistador gold over time.”
“That wouldn’t be surprising,” Eden commented from across the table. “Oral traditions often merge or transform over generations.”
“Especially when treasure is involved,” Trey added. “When we started hunting the conquistador gold, we found at least five different legends about where it came from and who hid it.”
“And all of them were partially true,” Porter remarked. “Just not in the way we initially thought.”
Amy found herself drawn into a discussion about historical research methods, symbol interpretation, and the connections between seemingly unrelated treasures.
The Crosses and Stones listened to her theories with genuine interest, asking thoughtful questions and offering insights from their own experiences.
Here, surrounded by these extraordinary families, Amy felt something she hadn’t experienced in eight years—a sense of belonging.
After dinner, as everyone moved to the living room for coffee and dessert, Nash pulled her aside into a quiet corner. “Holding up okay?” he asked softly, his blue eyes searching her face. “It’s a lot to take in all at once.”
Amy nodded, surprising herself with the truth of her response. “Actually, I am. Your family is … incredible. All of them.”
Nash smiled, pride evident in his expression. “They’re something, aren’t they? Loud, opinionated, sometimes overbearing …”
“And fiercely loyal,” Amy finished for him. “I can see why you love them so much.”
“They already like you,” Nash told her, his voice dropping lower. “I can tell.”
Amy felt a flush of pleasure at his words. “Even though I’ve brought danger to your doorstep?”
Nash laughed softly. “Amy, danger follows the Crosses and Stones like a shadow. If anything, you’re just continuing a proud tradition.”