Chapter 42 Noah
NOAH
The drive back to The Sundown felt like something out of a fever dream.
We’d just cleared the courthouse steps, Dom still smoothing down the front of his suit and muttering about how Montana judges had a flair for theater. And Maya was right there beside me, her hand clasped tightly in mine.
The hearing had gone sideways and back again.
Mrs. Appleby had shown up as a character witness, describing Maya as the kind of woman who didn’t just bake pastries but gave people reason to come in from the cold. And yet the judge had looked at her like she was part of a well-rehearsed act.
Even when Dom held up the marriage license, the county attorney squinted, clearly convinced we’d just handed him a forged hall pass.
“Marriage alone isn’t a guarantee of stability,” the judge had said in a measured tone. “But the commitment shown here today carries weight. Bail is granted.”
We didn’t cheer. We just stood there, stunned. And when I finally wrapped an arm around Maya’s shoulders and led her outside, I swear I didn’t start breathing again until we reached the truck.
Now, with her tucked against my side, all I could think was that she was my wife.
Her name was on the certificate. There was no ring on her finger yet, but her heartbeat was under my hand as she curled closer to me, worn out but still fighting.
Dom was at the wheel this time.
“You okay, Mrs. Lucas?” I murmured, my thumb brushing across the top of her knuckles.
She looked up and gave me a tired smile that still managed to knock something loose in my chest. “You’re asking me that?”
I shrugged. “If you ever regret this, you can always file for the big D.”
She swatted my arm. “You take that back, husband. That word is banned.”
Then, just to make her point crystal clear, she kissed me. I shifted, giving her one hell of a kiss back.
Dom cleared his throat from the driver’s seat. “Oh, for God’s sake, get a room,” he muttered. “Preferably one without me in it.”
Maya laughed against my mouth. “Sorry, Counselor.”
Dom muttered something about being underpaid and emotionally scarred as he squinted at the road sign for Buffaloberry Hill. “I swear, if I’d known I’d be third-wheeling a honeymoon, I would’ve stayed back and written the appeal from the porch with Reko.”
“Liar,” I said, grinning into Maya’s hair. “You love this.”
“I love winning,” he said. “The rest of this? Free trauma. Oh, and for the record, we got lucky just now.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in luck, Dominic Powell,” I shot back.
He paused. And even from behind, I could see the gears turning.
“Well,” he drawled, “let’s just say the universe flipped a coin. Could’ve gone either way. But it was late, the judge wanted his dinner, and someone probably told him that Harlow tried smuggling Maya over the county line. Judges hate intercounty messes. It gets political real fast.”
He had a point. Still, I wanted to believe the judge had seen the truth in Maya and me.
“He ruled in favor of love, Dom,” I said. I couldn’t stop myself.
He groaned. “Seriously, you two. I think you need a more sentimental lawyer.”
Soon, we passed a familiar stretch of road, the trees bowing inward like old guardians. And when we rolled past the battered sign—Welcome to Buffaloberry Hill—I let out a breath.
It wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. But she was back. In this town. In my truck. In my arms.
That counted for something.
Back at The Sundown, Reko greeted us at the door like he’d been holding down the fort. Which, technically, he had. The moment Maya stepped inside, his ears perked, his tail wagging.
“Hey, buddy,” Maya said, crouching to run a hand over his head. “Did you miss me?”
Reko gave a low huff. He even barked at Dom when he came in behind us.
“Hey, what was that about?” Dom called, his hands raised. “I didn’t do it. I just rescued her, okay?”
Reko didn’t look convinced.
Dom shed his coat and headed for the kitchen. “You two, go make out in the corner or whatever. I’m cooking tonight.”
“You cook?” Maya asked, halfway through untying her shoes.
“Only when it’s a dire emergency. Like newlyweds forgetting to eat.”
We didn’t argue. We just crashed on the couch, our fingers still tangled. Maya was tucked under my arm with her head on my chest. We didn’t say much. But we didn’t have to.
Dinner was ready half an hour later. And I had no idea what Dom did, but that man pulled off a Montana special consisting of flat iron steak, cast iron potatoes crisped in bacon fat, and his version of cornbread that somehow managed to be fluffy and crunchy.
“Holy hell,” I muttered through a mouthful. “You sure you’re a lawyer?”
Dom smirked. “I never said I was just a lawyer.”
We sat around the table after, coffee cups in hand, Reko sprawled under the table. For a moment, it almost felt like a normal night.
Then, the strategizing began, and reality crept back in.
We sat at the kitchen table. Papers were everywhere, my laptop screen casting a blue glow over Dom’s furrowed brow.
Dom tapped the side of a mug that hadn’t been touched in hours. “Annamaria Belrose. Our least favorite Belrose. She’s the key, not Harlow. He’s too careful. But Annamaria?” He shook his head. “She’s flashy and sloppy. She wants attention more than she wants control. And that’s a weakness.”
I didn’t know her. Never met her. But I’d seen her digital trail, the way some people try to curate their meaningless existence and call it a personality.
I leaned back, a thought threading through the haze of caffeine and exhaustion.
“She lives online,” I said. “There’s got to be something in her socials.”
Dom gave me a sidelong look. “Says the media mogul turned mountain recluse.”
I smirked and reached for my phone. “Social media’s about patterns. When people break them, it means something.”
I pulled up her public account. There was no need to hack. Annamaria liked to be seen.
“Let’s go back to the first heist,” I said, scrolling fast. “She posts selfies like it’s a medical requirement.
But look, starting about four days before the heist, her posts shift.
No face. Just throwbacks, her shoes, her nails, her dog.
Same with two full weeks after it. There’s nothing that shows her face. Not one damn thing.”
Dom leaned over my shoulder. “You’re saying she went intentionally faceless?”
“She was hiding something,” I said. “And not well.”
Dom whistled low. “Look at you. Get this man a ring light!”
“I’m just saying,” I muttered, scrolling back farther to compare. “If she had bruises and wanted to keep up the illusion that everything was fine, she’d go quiet, but not totally. She’d just fill in the blanks.”
“That lines up with the police file.” Dom reached into the folder beside him and pulled out a photo of Annamaria’s face, bruised and puffy.
“Bozeman PD took photos and got a hospital interview, but she was never actually examined. That’s what your lawyer missed, Maya. A gap you could drive a truck through.”
“Even if we know she was hiding it, we can’t prove how she got hurt,” Maya said. “My old lawyer couldn’t. What do we do now?”
Dom leaned back in his chair, cracking his neck like he’d just finished a courtroom slam dunk. “First off, I’m not your old lawyer. I’m the upgrade. High-performance. Handles corners better.”
Maya gave a tiny laugh, one of those weary ones, but it was there. And God, she needed that.
I tapped the table, thinking aloud, “So, who are her people? Her go-to? Someone she might’ve slipped up with?”
Maya shook her head. “She wouldn’t. Annamaria’s proud. She wouldn’t show weakness to her friends, not even if she were bleeding.”
“Actually, I know who’s the girl’s best friend,” I said.
Dom raised his brows. “Diamonds?” His reply was dry.
“Try again,” I said.
Maya’s eyes flicked between us. “Her phone?”
“Bingo.” I pointed at her. “Phones don’t lie. Even the loudest oversharers have one secret stashed in their photo roll or message thread.”
Dom snorted. “Girl’s best friend, alright. It carries every bad decision she’s ever made. And we just need the right one. Let’s hope it’s incriminating.”
“It will be!” I said determinedly.
Dom pointed a pen at me. “And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why you marry a man with a media empire.”
“Former media empire,” I corrected.
He ignored me. “So, how can we get the phone?”
I thought hard, a wicked thing coming to mind, or maybe a not-so-wicked thing. “I know exactly who can get it for us,” I said, scanning Annamaria’s recent posts.
Dom raised a brow. “Legally?”
“Close enough,” I said.
Maya looked between us. “You two are scary.”
I winked. “We’re just getting started.”