Epilogue
One month later…
Nick stood on the back deck, mug of coffee warming his hand, another winter storm building on the horizon. The sun sat low across the ocean, the fading light catching the waves as they pounded against the rock, the resulting crash strangely calming.
They’d found the ideal place — a restored craftsman cottage on a jagged cliff just north of Raven’s Cliff. It had been love at first site, and they’d moved in three weeks later.
Nick had made a few modifications — reinforced door frames, cameras disguised as exterior lights, and a panic button Sloane pretended she hadn’t insisted on. Not that he’d argued. After all they’d been through, she deserved to feel safe when safe had never been a constant.
He smiled, listening to the wind whistle through the eaves, to the groan of the beams as they settled, sighing as if releasing a breath.
It was perfect, except for the low, mournful moan of the glass balcony the previous owners had installed off the master bedroom — the one that flexed with every shift in the wind, the panels singing out a tinny complaint.
He’d promised Sloane he’d replace it — trade the tempered glass for solid cedar — and she’d yet to step foot on the damn thing since moving in.
He smiled at the thought. She’d accepted Bodie’s offer — joined Raven’s Security — and her first official act had been a risk assessment of their balcony. It hadn’t been a surprise when she’d declared it a tactical liability.
He’d ordered the wood an hour later.
A couple hawks soared overhead, riding the thermal updrafts as he watched the simple ebb and flow of the water.
Behind him, the sliding door opened, hushed footfalls padding across the weathered wood.
Sloane circled around in front, drinking in the scenery as if it held answers she wasn’t sure she was ready to hear, before leaning against his chest, her head tucked against his shoulder.
He placed one hand on her waist, breathing in the sweet, floral scent clinging to her skin.
He’d never imagined he’d find forever, and he knew, he’d never go back to living without her.
Without this.
Sloane hummed as the wind lifted her hair, dancing it across his shoulder. “Your supplier just called. Said the cedar railings are backordered. That we might have to live with the ‘death trap’ for another week.”
Nick cringed. “I’ll sleep on the sofa if it makes you feel better.”
“Screw that. You’ll sleep in our bed. I’ll just wear a parachute.”
“I’m glad you’re not being overly dramatic about it.”
She elbowed him, hard, then spun, tiptoed up and claimed his mouth in a kiss that should have gotten them arrested.
He lifted her into his arms, stumbled his way back inside, pinning her against the nearest wall.
She fisted his shirt, tore it over his head, her fingers like brands against his skin as she smoothed them along his ribs, skimming across his scattering of scars.
Nick nuzzled her neck, grabbing the hem of her shirt when a throat cleared behind them. He chuckled, dropped one more kiss on her mouth, then turned. He accepted the shirt Dalton tossed him, nodding at the case of beer. “I hope one of those is for me.”
Dalton grabbed one out of the case, handed it to him. “Based on what I walked in on, you’ll need the entire case to cool off.”
Sloane speared her fingers through her hair, looking as if she wanted to throat punch the man before eyeing Nick. “A week, Colter. That’s what you said.”
Dalton chuckled as Sloane headed for the door, welcoming the others inside. “Is it just me, or are we both somehow in trouble?”
Nick clapped Dalton on the back. “You’ll get used to it.”
Nick greeted his buddies as they all ambled in amidst shouts and catcalls. Something about Nick always finding an excuse to get his shirt off. Avery arrived a few minutes later, looking decidedly casual compared to her usual attire.
Sloane shouldered up to him, smiling. “Looks like you’re not the only one Raven’s Cliff looks good on.”
Nick wrapped his arm around her. “I didn’t realize she even owned flannel.”
Another elbow. Harder than the last. “Maybe she just wants to show off another side of her.”
“To who?” He stared down at Sloane. “Dalton?”
“Please tell me you’re not just now noticing it?”
“I…” He laughed. “Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but at the end of the day, I’m just a guy.”
“You’re forgiven.” She rested her head against his shoulder. “I thought Tierney was coming?”
“I invited her — had Buck ask her twice — but…” Nick sighed. “She’s still working on a few things.”
Nick stared out the front window when a large SUV pulled up, parking on an angle off to one side. He kissed Sloane, then crossed the room, stepping out onto the porch.
Wade Stone climbed out of the vehicle, a heavy-duty tactical cane clenched in one hand. He took a breath, then made his way up the driveway, jaw set as he navigated the uneven ground.
Nick crossed his arms, smiled. “You’re getting faster, Stone.”
Wade picked up his pace a bit. “Fast enough, I’ll be kicking your spook-ass at the gym next month.”
“That’s former-spook ass.”
“So you say. Yet, your first assignment has CIA stench all over it.”
“Occupational hazard.”
Nick held the door, the rest of the team razzing Wade as soon as he walked in. They fell into an easy rhythm, helping Nick move a few of the heavier items, as the light faded into night. They’d been at it for about two hours when a knock sounded on the door. Controlled. Firm. Anything but casual.
Nick arched a brow at Sloane as he ambled over, opened it. Tierney stood on the porch, hands shoved into her jeans. Her hair was noticeably down, and instead of her usual hiking and tactical gear, she sported a soft, cotton hoodie.
Nick waved her in. “You didn’t have to knock. We thought you’d decided not to come.”
Tierney stepped into the open foyer, gaze making the rounds — windows, doors, then back, again. She offered him a guarded smile. “I just finished a three-day trip. Had to wash the trail off me before…”
Buck walked over, stood close but without crossing that line into her personal space. She smiled at him, features softening before she grabbed a brown bag out of her backpack.
She took a breath, then headed for Sloane, the bag clenched in one hand as if she planned on using it as a weapon. She held it out once she’d stopped in front of Sloane.
Sloane accepted it, removed a bottle of Irish whiskey from inside. “Redbreast. Tierney, I… This is incredibly kind.”
Tierney simply shrugged as she motioned to Nick. “For the next time you have to stitch him up.” Her voice sounded dry, but the harsh edge had faded, replaced with something softer. Genuine.
Nick scoffed. “I wasn’t the only one who needed stitches.”
Tierney grinned. “Then, it’s a good thing that shit’s strong.”
The conversation picked back up, Foster’s team arriving after their shift. The house rocked, music playing over some Bluetooth speakers, food laid out along the counter. The kind of gathering Nick had never really enjoyed but couldn’t imagine not being a part of.
Bodie hooked his elbow a few hours later and motioned to the deck. They went out the sliding door, the inbound storm still building on the horizon, as if waiting for the perfect moment to roll ashore.
Bodie gazed out at the water, most of the tension Nick had likely caused his buddy, gone. “I have to hand it to you, Nick, when you commit, you go all-in. This place is amazing.”
Nick settled in beside him, bracing his arms on the railing. “Not quite as fortified as your place, but it feels right. And Sloane loves it…”
Bodie glanced at the glass balcony.
Nick laughed. “She loves most of it. And the wood should be here within a week.”
“Just say the word, brother. We’ll have that tactical nightmare ripped out in under an hour.” He rapped his knuckles on the railing, looking more than a bit anxious.
“Whatever you wanted to say in private, just spit it out.”
Bodie scrubbed his hand down his face. “I’m still unsure if you’re refreshing or annoying, but… I have a buddy in the U.S. Attorney’s office in DC. He just heard that they denied Hill’s deal. The bastard’s going to Leavenworth. Will likely die inside.”
Nick nodded, feeling somewhat hollow at the news. “That’s a great start…”
Bodie sighed. “But there’s always a latent threat.”
“At least, she’s got a team behind her now. That’s more than Hill can say.”
“We’ve got your back, just try not to piss off any other Deputy Directors.”
“I’m retired.”
“I think the word you’re looking for is relocated. Those years have a way of following you.” He clapped Nick on the back, headed for the door. “Another beer?”
Nick grinned, following Bodie inside. The night wore on, everyone finally ambling out as the clock neared midnight. Buck and Tierney left last, both heading down toward the shore, first. What looked dangerously intimate.
Nick locked the door once the trucks had turned onto the road, activating the security system before heading down the hall toward their bedroom, when he caught sight of Sloane standing on the deck.
He slipped out the door, admiring the way her skin reflected the hint of moonshine through the clouds, painting it with a soft, yellow glow.
He moved in behind her, wrapping her in his arms as he kissed her neck, the rhythmic crash of the tide playing in the background. “Did you see the look on Buck’s face when Tierney asked him to show her the shoreline?”
Sloane snorted. “Yeah, he looked like a man about to willingly walk into a storm.”
“Love has a funny way of blurring lines.” He rested his chin on the top of her head. “Standing here, with you, it’s hard to believe Prague was only a few months ago.”
She leaned more of her weight against him. “If you’d told me I’d be living in Raven’s Cliff back then, I would’ve recommended a four-day psychiatric hold. Yet… I can’t imagine being anywhere else.”
“You were the one who said moving here could save us both.”
“I guess I didn’t realize how much I needed this — needed you — until that damn ECHO text popped up on my cell.” She blew out a raspy breath. “Until I saw how the rest of my life would play out without you in it.”
“Then, it’s a good thing I don’t plan on ever letting you go.” He smiled when she swatted him. “In a non-creepy, non-possessive asshole way, of course.”
“Of course.” She turned in his arms and palmed his chest. “I have something for you.”
She placed her hand in his, tugged him back inside and over to the mantel before grabbing a box off the hearth. “Open it.”
He arched a brow, opening the sides before taking out a photo frame. He inhaled, staring at an insanely younger version of them standing back-to-back, the Prague cityscape glowing behind them. “Where the hell did you find this?”
“It was our first mission together, remember? I wanted a tangible memory.”
“I’d forgotten the first one had been to Prague.” He looked down at her. “Kinda feels right that everything’s come full circle.”
“I thought it could live on the mantel along with this…” She dug deeper into the box, removed a bowl of polished river stones with her old CIA badge and his JSOC coin.
Nick grinned, dipped down and kissed her, placing both in the center. “Seems like the perfect place for the past to rest. And now that the mission’s over, why don’t we get started on the next big op.”
“You know the saying. Take me to bed, baby…”
“Or lose me forever.” He turned, hiked her up on his shoulder, loving how she laughed when he swatted her ass. “You’re on.”
The men of Raven’s Security will return in
Raven’s Hunt…
And look for more edge-of-your-seat action in my gripping new series with Jen Talty
Black Hollow.
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Betrayed. Hunted. Left for dead in the Bralorn Backcountry. Four elite Canadian operators survived the kill box—and now they're coming for the man who tried to bury them. Four missions. Four love stories forged in fire. One reckoning.