Epilogue
Raven
We're just going riding. A game of pool seventeen states away, with maybe the odd bar fight thrown in. Four-and-a-half thousand miles after some last-minute changes to Declan’s plan. Three weeks there, three weeks back.
I can’t imagine a better holiday. Not least because we’re upgrading the cockroach motels to something with more class, courtesy of the bank balances we’ll have when Kurt’s finished fencing the diamonds.
With nothing pressing for the crew, Kurt signs off on it.
It’s not like he could stop me anyway—I’ve earned it, as he reminds me himself.
He seems a little distracted, truth be told, which is probably related to the black box he has to deal with.
But he gives me a peck on the cheek, clasps Declan’s arm, and tells us to let him know when we’re ready to ‘get back to work.’
Before we leave, Declan and I go shopping for phones.
I get Tasha to give me everyone’s number, and my first call is to Cole to check in on him.
He’s doing much better and will be out of hospital in days, and back in LA.
But we’ll have left by then. Declan scowls in the background while I’m talking to him, then takes his own turn, catching up like they’re good friends. Men are strange sometimes.
Shit, sometimes? Scrub that.
Declan takes me to see Camilla.
It’s not a trip I look forward to at all—I don’t expect her to ever forgive me. But Declan assures me he smoothed everything over, and she’s ‘dying to meet me.’
Without me bringing a gun this time.
I’m as nervous as hell, but actually it goes much better than I feared, and Sara is a delight. She calls me Auntie, which makes Camilla smile and Declan laugh out loud while I blush.
I still feel guilty over following him then turning up at his sister’s with a gun, but at least it lets me set that burden down.
Declan and I have a conversation about it, and I come clean as to why I did what I did.
He understands. He takes the blame because he left to go to Venice Beach, and tells me all about that too.
The woman in his apartment? His FBI handler.
I believe him. He believes me. The air is clearer for the heart-to-heart, and that night it’s different: gentle, but no less passionate, slower and quieter. Partly because Sara’s asleep in the room across the hall.
The next day, Declan makes a stop at the Superior Court clerk’s office, filing a form to officially change his name from Maddox to Hale. I didn’t ask him to; I think he’s doing it for him as much as for me. But I like it. One less thing to get straight in my head.
Eight weeks for it to process, and we’ll be gone for most of that. In the interim, I’ll just call him Hale, with the occasional ‘asshole’ and ‘you bastard’ thrown in, most likely.
Four days later, packing light and with a couple of panniers strapped to our bikes, we ride out of LA, heading for Golden Shores on the Arizona border. We take it gently, talking on comms kits Tasha set us up with, and only racing half the time.
The days go by, the miles running easily beneath our tires. The nights are passionate, the mornings when we check out a little embarrassing depending on how much noise Declan made me make.
The Million Dollar Highway offers twenty-five miles of the most dramatic scenery with sheer cliff faces, no guardrails, and high mountain passes. I’ve never ridden it before but always wanted to, and doing it with Declan is the best part.
The end of it is in Ouray, where there are hot springs.
Even in August, at this elevation the days are cool and the nights are cold, and though the tourists are here in force, we spend an hour or two soaking away the aches of the road.
Most of that time I spend clinging to Declan’s back as he carries me through the water, his hands roaming when no one is looking.
Eureka Springs in Arkansas is built on steep hillsides, streets that loop and switchback. The kind of place two bikers fit in easily with good roads in every direction, decent food, and interesting bars where we manage to avoid getting into fights.
From there, we head to Memphis, and Declan walks into a Tattoo shop, eyeing some designs with a thoughtful expression.
“I want to get a raven,” he tells me. “On my shoulder. Matching yours.”
“Get Tasha to do it when we get back.”
He nods slowly. “I suppose I could wait that long. She does good work.”
“Maybe I should get a skull in the middle of my chest.”
His eyes narrow. “Do you know what happens when you provoke me?”
“No?” I ask innocently.
We go back to the hotel and he shows me.
We arrive in Atlantic City three days before the 9-ball tournament Declan found.
He buys me a bikini that’s barely there and during the day we hit the beach.
He spends half the time with his arm around my waist and laughing, and the other half glaring at men who stop to check me out.
In the evening we hit the bars, getting in some last-minute practice.
We’re both good; neither of us is good enough.
The whole thing is farcical, really, but it was never the point. The trip was the point.
It’s an elimination tournament, with enough people that we don’t even see each other for the first two rounds. Then round three, I check my opponent, and it’s one Declan Hale.
Someone’s getting knocked out. It won’t be me.
There’s a crowd watching, officials around, other players. Lots of tables and noise.
Declan leans in close as he chalks his cue, voice low. “You know, we never resolved that wager from our very first pool game.”
“That’s because you cheated and claimed a victory you never earned.”
“True, but a bit late to object. How about we have another wager?”
“Uh-huh.” Something tells me he’s been planning this for the last four-and-a-half thousand miles. “Terms?”
“If you win, I’ll fuck you gently,” he says, then pauses to blow a little excess chalk off the tip of his cue. “If I win, I tie you up and fuck you any way I please.”
And he says it in that damn sexy voice, too.
My breath catches, and I have to steady myself on the edge of the table. Nipples tightening, stomach clenching, heat pooling.
Declan gives me that sadistic little smile of his and leans back. “Your break.”
Cheating bastard.
He’s got ropes in his panniers. Even though he hasn’t had them out yet, I know they’re there.
He’s made sure I know they’re there.
How am I going to be able to focus enough to play now?
Declan’s watching me, half amused, half with heat in his beguiling, pale blue eyes.
I am so going to lose.
Can’t wait.