Chapter 42
CHAPTER
FORTY-TWO
DEAN
The sounds of firetrucks and ambulances blare through the night, cutting through the sound of the Jeep’s tires on the road. Fear spikes through me, accompanied by the one-two gut punch of guilt.
Please, please don’t be heading for the Wildwood Hotel.
“He’s still not picking up, Dean.” Charlie holds her cell to her head, as anxious as I’ve ever seen her. “I’m calling it in.”
“Fuck.” I never should have left. As soon as I picked up the phone, I should have run the name, verified it.
Red and blue lights flood my car, momentarily blinding me as they speed past me. Turning off on the same exit as the hotel.
If anything’s happened to her…
The gas pedal hits the floorboard, and the car screeches as it picks up speed. The needle pushing past eighty. I’m vaguely aware of Charlie on the phone, the bare details of the situation, her hanging up.
My knuckles are white on the wheel.
“She’s smart, she’ll be okay.” I’m not sure if she’s trying to convince me or her herself. “Dean, slow down. If you wreck us, it’ll take even longer to get to her.”
The car careens onto the off-ramp, and a muscle twitches in my temple.
“Dammit, Charlie.” I’ll never forgive myself for this. Pierce will pay . Anger rises in me like a tide, slipping from the mental shackles I worked so hard to forge.
“Dean, you need to calm down. Talk to me. What’s going through your head?” Charlie asks.
I want to rip the goddamn steering wheel off, that’s what. My therapist would not be impressed. But the person I’m angriest at isn’t Pierce, or the cartel, or the US government, for once.
No. It’s myself.
“You like June. Like, really like her, huh?”
“Shut up, Charlie.”
“No, you need to listen. Your ex was horrible. We all knew it. Bad news. June’s different.”
“Of course she’s different,” I snap, glaring at her.
Charlie rolls her eyes. “You made a mistake, don’t yell at me.”
“Don’t talk to me like that.”
She sighs. “Will you listen to yourself? You’re a mess.”
“You’re the last person to be giving advice on relationships.”
She shifts in the seat, and I regret the barb. She’s my best undercover operative.
It was a coup to even get her to work for me. Unfortunately, she’s great at forging relationships with the turncoats, the get-rich-quick sell-outs, and the dirty cops.
And in this case, June.
June, who’s worth more to me than anything we found under the green waves of the gulf.
“That’s not fair,” she finally says, breaking the quiet, watching me. “I do my job. We all do our jobs. But Dean, sometimes I think there should be more than the mission. Maybe it’s time to put you first. What you want. And if that’s June? If that’s this town and a life with her? The mission will still be there even if you take a backseat for a while.” Charlie turns away, sinking into silence. “We’ll all still be here too. Me and Thompson and Thorne. Not like we have anything special waiting for us.”
My teeth clench.
The hotel looms against the dusky horizon, lit up like Christmas with parking lot lights and garden lighting designed to make it look like a serene retreat. Cascading sirens and emergency lights ruin the effect. They spin relentlessly, all blue and red, converging on the hotel where I left June, left her after—I can’t even think it.
Charlie draws a long breath.
Several paramedics are walking out of the hotel, a stretcher carried between them. Grief tears through me like a hurricane. The force of it skidding across my awareness, and yet, through some superhuman ability combined with years of training, I push it aside.
The Jeep screeches to a stop, and I don’t know if I turn it off, sprinting towards the body in the bag, towards the paramedics.
“How did it happen?”
“You can’t be here, this is an active crime scene.” A uniformed policewoman bars my entry, the yellow tape proclaiming as much pressing against my legs.
“No, you don’t understand, that’s my, my…” I trail off, fishing out my credentials.
“He’s not anybody’s anything anymore,” one of the paramedics says.
“Nasty business,” a second adds.
My head spins so hard it takes a minute to latch onto what they said. He. He . Not her. I don’t dare hope.
“Was there a woman, a woman, is she okay? Where’s the woman?” I grip the officer’s arm, and a look of pity crosses her face.
“Dean, Dean! You’re okay!” June’s voice cuts through the chaos, and relief nearly brings me to my knees.
She tumbles into my arms, smelling like burnt hair, but I don’t care.
She’s safe. Good god, she’s safe.
I hug her close. Her arms come up around my waist, squeezing me back, and a sudden wetness coats my cheeks.
“Of course I’m okay, are you okay?” I manage, bewilderment prickling my awareness. I pull away from her, checking her perfect, beautiful face, eyes scanning the body I treasure.
“I’m—” she swallows, “I’m really tired. And somehow, hungry again. And tired of being shot at. Like, really fucking tired of being shot at. But I’m okay. I am.” Her mouth purses, and she closes her eyes. Her body goes soft against me, and my heart swells. She still trusts me.
“You said fucking.” Why is that the thing I latched onto?
“I did. Sorry.” She winces. “Fudging adrenaline.”
“Thompson?” I ask.
“They slipped something in his food, he’s on the way to the hospital. He’s going to be okay.” Her throat bobs.
“You’re okay, holy shit, you did great, June.” Charlie appears next to the ambulance, relief clear on her face.
For a moment, June’s eyes narrow, irritation leaking out of every pore. Charlie takes a step back, a look I’ve never seen on her face before—uncertainty.
I nearly intervene, but I stop myself. They need to work this out, and no way anything I say is going to help.
“I’m sorry,” Charlie says. It comes out like a question and my brows shoot up.
I’ve never heard her say that before.
“I’m sorry,” she repeats. “I used you. I did what I had to do, but I know you’re hurt.”
“Charlie…” June shakes her head, “it’s okay. I understand why you did it. But you know you’re buying the next round of margaritas. And the queso. And the fajitas. And you still owe me a whole girls’ night. How am I supposed to browbeat the rest of the faculty once you leave?”
Charlie tips her head back, laughing, a real laugh, one I rarely hear from her. “You’ll have the Santu Espiritu to hold over their heads now. They’ll be lucky to keep you on staff.”
June grins, radiant despite the glow of police lights.
I exhale a massive breath in relief. Lucky. I was so damn lucky. Should I press it? She nuzzles into my chest, and it tightens at her simple gesture, at how she finds comfort in my arms.
“Pierce got away. Pierce is gone.” Her forehead scrunches up, and I smooth it out with my thumb.
“I’ll deal with it later. Charlie,” I call out, “Call it in. We need to let them know Pierce is still in play. Who’s the stiff?”
“Russian. The one I hit the other day.” There’s a feral light in Charlie’s eyes, and her phone’s already at her ear. “Should have tried harder.”
I make a mental note to stay on Charlie’s good side before turning all my attention back to June.
“The important thing is that you’re okay.” I can’t seem to stop touching her. She is okay. She’s here, in my arms. I’m never letting her go. “You come first. Always, June. I never should’ve left. I’m sorry. If I hadn’t left, they never would’ve gotten this close.”
I capture her face, my mouth finding hers, pressing a kiss to it. Her fingernails dig into the fabric of my shirt before I break the kiss.
“Stop it.” She holds up a furious finger, and her eyes sparkle with tears. “I took care of it. I can take care of myself.”
“I know you can, June. You’ve showed me that so many times. So,” I paused, staring into her beautiful eyes, “you’re not mad at me? That I ran off and left you vulnerable?”
She throws her head back, a bark of a laugh sounding. “No, you left me as safe as you could while you went off to save the world. You don’t control Pierce, you didn’t make him do that. You’re going to have to work on this blaming yourself for everything nonsense if you want to be with?—”
“June, I…” She needs to say it. I need her to say it.
Her eyes press closed, her mouth a thin slash. “I know I’m assuming a lot, but…”
“No, I want that. I want to be what you need.” I draw her close, sealing her mouth with mine.
A rousing cheer goes up around us, and her hands fist in my shirt. When we pull away, there are a few whoops from the crowd. And Charlie’s grin stretches from ear to ear.
“What I need right now is about three days straight of sleep.”
I raise an eyebrow, a mischievous grin curving my lips. “Is that all you need?”
She stands on her tiptoes, breath ghosting against my ear. “No.”
Picking her up, I swing her against my chest, and she gasps before laughter trickles out of her as I carry her to the Jeep.