One Last Shot (Last Refuge Protectors #6)

Prologue

Keira, Two Years Ago

I’d never seen Last Refuge look so beautiful. Flower garlands draped over the wooden deck railings and down the tables. Vivid pink and orange painted the sky as the sun dipped behind the mountain range, and fairy lights swayed overhead in the faint summer breeze.

Jessi and Aiden’s ceremony had already been picture perfect, and as love songs played over the speaker system and I sipped a glass of something sparkling, my blood fizzed with anticipation.

Then Dean glanced over, catching my eye. He smiled softly. My gaze averted, yet that bubbly feeling inside me bloomed. All cozy and familiar as much as it was hot and sharp with excitement.

This felt like a night when amazing things could happen. Impossible things.

I was really gonna have to watch myself tonight. I was already in too romantic a mood for my own good, and the wine wasn’t helping.

“Hey. Having a good time?”

When I looked up again, Dean was right there in front of me. His expression was warm in that way that made my stomach flip. I could feel the grin spreading across my face, helpless and genuine.

“Hard not to,” I said. “Never seen so many people so happy. I’ll have to monitor the situation. Could be something contagious going around.”

Dean laughed. “There’s definitely a lot of alcohol going around.

” He nodded toward where Stephie and Vivian were laughing with some teenage boys who must’ve been part of Aiden’s family.

The Shelborne clan had traveled all the way from California for the wedding.

“I assume you’re keeping an eye on your little sister? ”

“Always. Pretty sure she and Vivian have sneaked a few sips.” They were both sixteen. The peak age for rebellion. “But I can’t imagine they’ll get away with more than that, considering half the guests here are law enforcement and former military.”

His dimple appeared as he took a sip from his beer glass. Dean shifted so we stood shoulder-to-shoulder, facing the crowd, but I felt him looking at me from the corner of his eye. “Wouldn’t have pegged you as a cop from the way you cleaned up, though. I like the dress.”

I smoothed my hands over the soft fabric, suddenly self-conscious. The dress was frilly and girly, pale pink with delicate lace at the sleeves and neckline. Most of the time on duty, I wore my hair pulled back. But tonight my curls framed my face, which had a lot more makeup than usual.

“You’d better not be making fun of me.”

“I would never,” Dean said softly, in that deep voice of his that moved over my skin like a faint caress, always leaving me wanting more.

He was dressed in nice jeans and a button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled to his elbows. Simple, clean, handsome. As dressy as I ever saw him get.

“You clean up decent yourself,” I said. “You need a haircut though. You look like a glorified ski bum who moonlights as a bartender.”

“Ouch. That hits close to home. But unlike some people, I prefer to be sincere. You look beautiful.” Something flickered in those blue eyes of his, making my breath catch.

“Thank you.”

His hand went to the cord he always wore around his throat, rubbing the thin strip of leather between his fingers. Something he did when he was thinking deep thoughts.

Which surely aren’t about you, I told myself, so don’t get ideas.

Dean and I had met a few years ago. I worked for Sheriff Owen Douglas, and Dean was one of Owen’s closest buddies from the Marines.

Dean and I had never been anything more than friends.

Yet he confused me sometimes. How he’d pay me such close attention, his gaze moving over me like he saw something he wanted.

Lingering on my lips. Touching my arm or my face affectionately, far more than any other male friend did.

But that was just Dean. He knew how I felt about him, and he’d made clear that he didn’t feel the same.

One time last year, I’d worked up my courage and was about to kiss him. Even leaned in, probably with some schmoopy look on my face. Dean had turned away and let me down easy. I’m way too old for you, Keira. As if eight years was such a difference when I was twenty-six. Certainly no kid.

Since that mortifying moment, I’d been a lot more careful. Just trying to appreciate our friendship and not dream of more.

Trying.

“So how’s the new schedule working out?” I asked. “Still liking the tourist-trap bar in Silver Ridge?”

“It’s not that bad. Tips are solid with the summer crowd.” He tilted his head toward the buffet line that was forming. “Want to grab some food?”

We talked easily as we moved through the line, filling our plates with barbecue and mac and cheese and beans, all the fixings. Which you’d think would not go well with champagne, but I liked it.

Some combinations were unexpectedly good, and didn’t that just make them even better? I thought so, at least.

Like Dean and me. He was a world traveler who’d bounced from seasonal gig to seasonal gig before arriving in Hartley to stay.

I was a cop who’d been born here and rarely left the county.

We might seem like unlikely friends, given all the ways we were different, but we both loved the outdoors.

During the summer, we went hiking together almost every week.

Like a lot of Colorado natives, I’d never learned to ski—too expensive—but last winter Dean had started to teach me. He was obviously a super expert on both skis and a snowboard, but he was always patient, claiming he had as much fun as I did on the bunny slopes.

We found seats at one of the long tables on the deck.

The view was spectacular as darkness settled over the mountains and valley.

The live band had started playing just inside the dining room, which had all its doors thrown open to the outdoor space.

They’d cleared away the tables in the tavern to allow for a dance floor, and we all cheered as Jessi and Aiden had their first dance.

When I looked over at Dean beside me, he was touching his necklace again, frowning slightly.

“You okay?” I whispered to him while everyone was clapping for Jessi and Aiden.

He seemed to snap out of wherever his thoughts had gone. “Yeah, all good. Just…” He glanced over at the dance floor, where other couples had started joining the bride and groom. “Would you like to dance?”

More fizzing in my stomach. I couldn’t blame the bubbly anymore since I’d finished my glass a while ago, and I never had more than one drink. In my opinion, a sheriff’s deputy was never a hundred percent off duty.

“Sure. Why not?”

As I took his hand and walked toward the dance floor, I told my hopes to settle back down.

Our friend Brynn was dancing with her boyfriend Cole, and she gave me a subtle thumbs up, eyes darting between me and Dean. I returned a quick shake of my head, because this was not a thing. He’d made that very clear.

I knew where hope always led with this man. Exactly nowhere.

But the alcohol still sang in my bloodstream.

Dean’s hands settled on my hips as we began to sway to the music.

I placed mine on his shoulders. I was intensely aware of every point of contact between us.

The warmth of his palms through the thin fabric of my dress.

The solid feel of him, close enough that I could smell the crisp, fresh scent of his skin.

I let myself sink into the moment. Let myself stare back at him and look my fill.

What was my favorite thing about Dean? So hard to choose. There was his smile, always gentle at the edges. And those dimples. His dimples flashed when the faint lines around his eyes crinkled, just before he really grinned.

Since I’d met him, there’d been this aura of mystery about him. He could be deceptively quiet at times, like when he touched the leather cord on his neck. He always kept the pendant tucked inside his shirt, but I’d seen it a couple of times.

A rifle round.

Brynn had served as a Marine too, and she had all the bravado and swagger you’d expect to go along with it. Dean didn’t. Despite his history, or maybe because of it, he never touched weapons now.

But he didn’t seem to have an issue with the fact that I carried a gun for my job. As far as our friendship, I mean. Dean had helped with Protector missions too, though he stayed out of the fray himself.

“Did I tell you about the training I’ve been doing with Brynn?” I asked. “We’re working on my hand-to-hand combat skills. I’m getting a lot better.”

A line appeared between Dean’s eyebrows. “That’s…good. Sounds fun.”

My lips pressed tight. “It’s not for fun.

You know that. Trace and Owen have told me no so far, but I’m not giving up.

” I kept my voice down, even though we were at Last Refuge.

There were plenty of people at the reception who had no idea the Last Refuge Protectors existed.

“Brynn supports me, and I think River’s open to me joining too. ”

“River rarely thinks about how dangerous something is. He jumps first and thinks later.”

“I’m aware of the danger. I’m a cop, Dean. Danger is part of the job description.”

“The Protectors are different.”

“Which is exactly why I want to be a real part of it.” Frustration made prickles of sweat break out over my skin. I didn’t want to watch from the sidelines while my friends put themselves at risk.

I respected Dean’s choices, but wasn’t I entitled to mine?

The song ended, and I went to step away, annoyed at myself for being annoyed at him. I really hated to argue with Dean.

But he grabbed my hand. “Hey, can I talk to you? Somewhere private?”

“About the Protectors? Because I don’t want to—”

“No. It’s personal.”

My heart lurched, coming to life. In one instant, my pulse was beating fast with reckless dreams and aching longing, because what if this was it? What if he’d finally changed his mind about me? Us.

We walked off the dance floor, going back outside and finding a quiet corner of the deck. Music and lights spilled from the reception. Dean’s fingers were tangled around mine as he turned and faced me.

My hopes were flying up into the starry sky.

I wanted him to kiss me. God, I wanted it so badly.

I’d imagined what it would be like so many times.

The first touch of his lips to mine. How I would put my hand right at the base of his neck to feel how fast his pulse was thrumming.

How my thumb would lightly trace over his Adam’s apple and the leather cord of his necklace.

How he’d taste when his tongue dipped into my mouth. I’d imagined it so many times without any faith that it would happen, but tonight…

Maybe. Maybe.

Please.

“Dean, I—”

He let go of my hand. Gripped the cord at his throat, the bullet still hidden under his shirt. “I wanted you to be the first to know. I’m leaving.”

My brain took a moment to adjust. “Leaving? Like, the reception?”

“No, Keira.” A soft, humoring smile. His eyes couldn’t meet mine. “I’m leaving Colorado. I got an instructor job for the winter at a resort in Canada. Banff. I have a couple buddies who were there last year and—“

“Wait, why? What about the Silver Ridge Ski Resort? I thought you loved it.”

“I do. I have loved it, but I don’t usually stay in one place too long. That’s not my thing. Never has been.”

“But you’ve been here for years…”

“Exactly,” he said softly, and that was the instant my heart broke straight down the middle.

Oh, wow. Was I ever stupid. Thinking Dean was finally going to kiss me, like he’d been all tense and weird tonight about me, when it was about his new job.

He was leaving.

I wanted to shrivel up and disappear. Maybe I should’ve been flattered he was telling me first, but he probably just knew how I’d take it. As in, not good.

Like a girl with a crush.

So I lifted my chin and smiled for him. Asked more questions about this Canadian resort and when he was going. Dean was my friend, and I was supposed to be happy for him. He didn’t owe me anything.

I listened to him talk about Banff and his plans, nodding in all the right places, keeping that smile fixed on my face even as everything inside me crumbled.

Maybe I was as young as people said after all, hopelessly naive. As if wishing for something could make it true.

As if wanting someone badly enough could make them want you back.