Chapter 24
Levi stood on the dock behind Willow's father's house, watching the sun set over Puget Sound. The water was calm, reflecting gold and pink in ripples that stretched toward the horizon. A ferry moved across the water in the distance, its horn echoing faintly. Life here was peaceful and quiet. And to be honest, he still wasn’t used to the …
permeance of the peacefulness. There was an undeniable itch to move, to be active in a mission, to be on alert.
It had been just over five months since his last mission.
He’d gone longer between them, but backing up others had kept him busy.
He looked at the horizon and wondered how Phantom was doing.
What he was doing. Hell, if he were even alive.
He’d taken out his comms device when they’d landed at Willow’s home.
The sensation of being adrift seemed to amplify itself after talking with Lycos and Smoke this afternoon.
Not that he didn’t enjoy the time he’d had here with Willow.
Fuck, he loved that woman more than anyone could love another person.
And that right there … well, it was the reason he’d probably walk away for good.
He’d find something to fill the void being away from Guardian had caused.
Sooner or later, he’d learn what normal people did with their time when nobody was actively trying to kill them.
He exhaled heavily. Damn, it was harder than he'd expected.
He glanced behind him. The house glowed warm with lights on.
Willow was inside, making dinner. Actually making dinner, not heating MREs, but cooking something that involved fresh ingredients and fresh fish.
He smiled because he could hear her through the open kitchen window, humming something.
It was extraordinarily off-key, which made it all the better.
She was happy, and he’d fucking kill to keep her that way.
He turned back to the horizon and crossed his arms, staring into the distance, hoping for something to … hell, he didn’t know what he was hoping. He was staying. For Willow. For both of them.
“Yo, Sunshine. You going to stand out there brooding all evening, or are you coming in to help?” Her voice carried across the deck, affectionate exasperation that he'd learned meant she was smiling.
“Brooding,” he called back. “It's very important to brood. It builds character.”
“You have plenty of character. Get in here and chop vegetables.”
He turned toward the house, taking in the sight of her framed in the kitchen door.
The months of healing had brought color back to her face and strength back to her frame.
The shoulder still bothered her, and it probably always would, but she'd regained most of the mobility. She could lift, reach, and even throw a decent punch when they sparred in the mornings. She’d been a quick study and was learning fast.
Climbing up the steps to the deck, he smiled as he saw into the kitchen. She was wearing tight jeans and one of his T-shirts, and with her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, she'd never looked more beautiful.
Inside, the aroma of garlic and herbs filled the room. Willow handed him a cutting board and knife without looking, already moving on to the next task.
They worked in comfortable silence. A routine they’d developed over the last few months.
Him chopping vegetables with the precision of someone who'd learned knife skills in very different contexts, and her cooking something on the stove that actually smelled good. This was bliss. This was what he’d always craved but never hoped to achieve.
Boring, a part of his brain whispered. He shoved that fucking thought away. Those thoughts came from the part of him that missed adrenaline and the purpose that came from having a mission. He didn’t need that now. He had Willow, and she was more than enough.
“You're thinking too loud,” Willow said, not turning around.
He chuckled. “How can you tell?”
“You get this look. Like you're planning demolitions instead of dinner.” She glanced over her shoulder. “What's wrong?”
“Nothing's wrong.”
“Levi. Don’t bullshit me.”
He set down the knife and leaned against the counter. “I was contacted today by Guardian.”
Her hands stilled on the wooden spoon. “And?”
“And they want me to come back. There's a situation that needs my skills.” He watched her face, trying to read her reaction. “They gave me until tomorrow to decide if I’m in or out. No in between.”
“What do you want to do?”
Good question. What did he want? Five months ago, the answer would’ve been simple: Whatever kept Willow safe, whatever let them have this peaceful life they'd carved out.
But the months of peace had taught him something uncomfortable. He might not be built for permanent retirement. Again, he shoved that thought aside.
“I don't know,” he admitted. “A part of me wants to tell them no. Stay here, stay with you, keep pretending I'm a normal person who doesn't know fifty ways to level a building.”
“And the other part?”
“I miss it. The work. The purpose. Knowing that what I do matters.” He moved to her, turned her to face him. “But I meant what I said in that hospital. You're the most important thing in my life. All of this is more important. So, if you want me to tell them no—”
“I don't.” She cupped his face in her hands. “Levi, I knew what you were when I fell for you. I knew you weren't going to be happy playing house forever. And honestly?” She smiled. “Neither am I.”
He jerked back in surprise. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I got a visit today, too. Outside the fishmonger’s place.” Her eyes were bright, excited. “From Guardian. Some chick named Charley who claimed to be a COO for Guardian. Said she was married to an explosives expert in the same line of work you were involved in. She offered me a position.”
He froze. The idea of her working for Guardian without him turned him cold, and yeah, he was kind of pissed they didn’t tell him they were approaching her. But then again, she was her own woman and didn’t need his approval to do anything. “What kind of position?”
“Aviation Operations for this region.” She was talking faster now, the words tumbling out.
“They have a fleet based in and around Seattle. Transport, reconnaissance, and some combat support. I called her back to get some more details and ask questions that I didn’t think of when she initially approached me.
They need someone to manage it, maintain the aircraft, and schedule.
It's—” She laughed. “It's perfect, Levi.
Everything I'm good at, everything I love, but without the CIA bureaucracy and getting shot at by cartels.”
Relief and something else, pride, maybe, flooded through him. “You'd be working for Guardian.”
“We'd both be working for Guardian.” She grabbed his hands. “You take jobs when they need your expertise. I run their aviation operations from here. We have this house, this life, but we also have purpose. We're not just sitting around waiting to get bored.”
“You've thought about this.”
“I've thought about nothing else since we talked this morning.” She was grinning now, that fierce joy that made her eyes light up. “Say yes. Take the job. Charley also said that when needed, I could go with you as air support, but it would be on a mission-by-mission basis, and of course, we’d need to decide if I was ready to go back into the field. Right now, I’m not.
I know that. I have a lot of work to do with therapy, both physical and mental, but we can figure out the rest together. ”
He should argue. Should point out the risks, the danger, the fact that working for Guardian meant their peaceful life would be waiting for the call. Waiting for the next mission.
But she was right. They weren't built for permanent peace. They weren't built for normal.
They were built for this. A partnership, purpose, and the kind of life that came from people who'd survived impossible things and refused to stop fighting.
“Okay,” he said. “I'll take the job.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. And you should take yours.”
She kissed him. When she pulled back, her smile could have lit the whole house. “Where’s your comm device?” she asked.
“In the bedroom.”
“Go get it, and tell them you’re back. I’m going to call Charley.”
He blinked. “What?”
“Oh, and tell them if they haven’t booked your flights yet, I want to test out one of their long-range planes.”
“You want to fly me to the next mission?”
“I want to fly you anywhere. Everywhere.” She turned back to the stove, stirring with casual confidence. “Besides, I need to see how Guardian operations work if I'm going to be supervising their aviation division. Consider it on-the-job training.” She looked back at him and winked.
Levi stared at the woman who'd saved his life. Who he'd saved in return, who'd looked at his darkness and decided it was something she could live with. Who was choosing violence and purpose and partnership over safety.
“You're insane,” he said.
“You keep saying that like it's news,” she echoed his words and mannerisms before laughing. “So? Do you want a pilot or not?”
He moved behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, still careful of the shoulder that would always be a reminder of what they'd survived. “I want you however I can have you.”
“Good answer.” She leaned back against him. “Dinner's ready in ten minutes. Go wash up. Pop in that comm device and let them know you’re back. Oh, and maybe shower. You smell like dock and fish.”
He rolled his eyes. “That’s romantic.”
“I try.”
He kissed her neck, her jaw, the spot behind her ear that made her shiver. “Have I mentioned I love you?”
“Not in the last hour. I was starting to worry.”
“I love you, Willow Tucker. Even when you're insulting my hygiene.”
“I love you, too, Levi Rourke. Even when you brood dramatically on the dock.”
He released her, then headed for the stairs. Halfway up, he stopped and turned back. She was plating food, humming again, completely off key and at ease in the kitchen of her father's house that had become their house.
Home. This was home.
But so was the work. The missions. The purpose they'd both been built for.
Maybe that was the real miracle. Not that they'd found peace, but that they'd found a way to balance peace with purpose. Violence with love. Duty with desire.
“Willow?”
She looked up. “Yeah?”
“Thank you. For understanding. For not asking me to be someone I'm not.”
Her smile was soft, genuine. “You did the same for me. That's what partners do.”
“Liars and partners.”
“The best kind.”
He found his device, seated it in his ear, and tapped it, holding the pressure for three seconds, which would activate the alarm to get Con’s attention.
“Holy fucking hell, Z. I dropped my drink. That’s alcohol abuse.”
“Hello to you, too. I’m baaaaaack.” He sing-songed that. He totally did.
Con laughed. “Thank God, it has been boring as hell without you. I’ll let the upper crust know.
“If you haven’t booked flights, Willow wants to fly me to the next mission. She’s contacting someone called Charley to let her know, too.”
“Oh, dear God. Not Charley. Do I have to work with her?”
“I don’t know, dude. Above my pay grade. Just get word to Lycos and Smoke that I’m in.”
“On it. And Levi? I’m happy you’re back.”
“So am I, my man. So am I.” He showered quickly, changed into clean clothes, and then came back downstairs to find the table set and food laid out.
“What did Charley say?”
“Take whatever plane I want, just get you to Eastern Europe ASAP.”
“We’re going back to work.”
“We are.” She toed up and kissed him. “I’m hungry.”
“So am I.” He lifted his eyebrows several times.
“That’s dessert.” She pointed to the table outside. “That’s calories, and I have a feeling we’re both going to need them.”
“Have I told you how much I love dessert?”
“Many, many times. Food. Now.”
They ate on the deck, watching the last light fade from the sky, talking about logistics and operational timelines and whether Guardian's aviation insurance was adequate. They came to the determination that it probably wasn’t, at least not for them.
Normal conversation for deeply abnormal people.
After dinner, they cleaned up together—another domestic ritual they'd developed. Willow washed, and he dried. The radio played something jazz that she liked, and he tolerated.
She handed him the last dish, pulled the plug on the sink. Water drained with a gurgle. “You nervous? About going back?”
“A little.” Honesty felt easier now, after five months of learning to live with someone who saw past his walls. “It's been a while. What if I'm rusty?”
“You?” She laughed. “Levi, you disassembled and reassembled my outboard motor last week for fun. You're not rusty.”
“That's not the same as operational work.”
“No, but it shows you still think like a demolitions expert. You see systems, understand how they work, know how to make them fail.” She dried her hands, turned to face him. “You'll be fine. Better than fine. And I'll be right there, flying you in, making sure you come home.”
“My guardian angel.”
“Something like that.” She moved into his arms, and they stood in the kitchen, swaying slightly to music neither of them was really hearing.
Outside, the Sound was dark now, lights from distant shores twinkling like stars. Inside, the house was warm, safe, theirs.
“Levi?”
“Hmm?”
“I'm glad you're going to work again.” She pulled back to look at him. “We needed this. Both of us. Time to heal, time to figure out who we are when nobody's shooting at us. But I think we've figured it out now.”
He tipped his head and smiled at her. “And who are we?”
“Partners. In everything. Violence and peace. Missions and home.” She kissed him softly. “Whatever comes next, we face it together.”
“Together,” he agreed.
He'd spent a decade as Guardian's weapon, as Berserker, believing violence was all he was good for.
But Willow had taught him something different. Had shown him that weapons could choose who they protected, that violence could serve love, that being good at destruction didn't mean you couldn't also build something worth keeping.
They'd built this. This home, this partnership, this future that included both peace and purpose.
“Ready for dessert?” She smiled up at him.
“Always.” She took his hand in hers and led him up the stairs. Tonight was theirs.