Chapter 14
Mia
I woke wrapped in Coop’s arms, my back pressed into his chest, his breath warm against my neck.
For a moment, I kept my eyes closed, letting myself exist in this space between sleep and reality where everything felt safe.
Where the tender ache between my thighs and the stubble burn on my throat were the only evidence of where I was.
Then memories of last night flooded back, heat pooling low in my belly.
Three times. We’d made love three times, each one different but equally intense. The first had been desperate, six years of separation exploding into pure need. The second, slower, like we were trying to memorize each other all over again. But the third…
My pulse quickened, remembering it. He’d woken me in the middle of the night, his hands already mapping my body in the darkness.
No words, just touch and taste and the kind of connection that made everything else disappear.
He’d taken his time, drawing it out with his fingers and mouth between my legs, flicking and sucking on my clit until I was begging, until every nerve ending felt electric.
When he’d finally pushed his cock into me, he’d held perfectly still, our eyes locked in the dim light, and whispered my name like a prayer. Like I was something precious he’d thought he’d lost forever.
The way he’d moved then, slow and deep and devastating, had unraveled something inside me that had still been wound tight without my even knowing it.
Each thrust deliberate, controlled, his eyes never leaving mine, even when I tried to hide in the curve of his neck.
He wouldn’t let me. He’d held my face, made me look at him, made me see the raw vulnerability in his expression that matched my own.
And he’d called me Kitten.
The pet name had returned last night—first during our conversation about my accident, slipping out naturally like it had never been gone.
Then again between our lovemaking, when I’d curled into him the way I always used to.
Each time he said it, my heart had done something complicated and painful and wonderful all at once.
I’d forgotten about that silly little term of endearment.
Or maybe I’d made myself forget, packed it away with all the other memories that hurt too much to examine.
He used to tease me about how I’d curl up when I was comfortable—legs tucked up, head nestled into whatever soft surface I could find.
Like a cat, he’d always said, amused by my need to burrow into comfort.
And when we’d argue, when my temper flared over something stupid, he’d call me his feisty kitten until I couldn’t help but laugh, my anger dissolving into grudging amusement.
God, how had I forgotten? That pet name had made me feel cherished in a way that had nothing to do with being diminished or patronized. It had just been…us. Our thing. I had no idea how much I’d missed it until I’d heard it again.
But what had really enthralled me, what had kept me hanging on Coop’s every word, was hearing about Garnet Bend.
His voice had painted pictures in the darkness, and my photographer’s eye had automatically translated them into images.
The way he described the morning light hitting the mountains.
A tiny town in Wyoming with a population that could fit in a single Seattle high-rise.
Wide-open spaces where you could breathe, really breathe, without feeling like the world was pressing in on you.
It was crazy that we’d both ended up in Montana.
After he’d left, life in Seattle had been hard.
Every street corner held a memory, every coffee shop a ghost of what we’d been.
Then after the accident… The city that had once felt exciting became suffocating.
All those people, all those buildings towering over me, creating canyon-like streets that triggered my claustrophobia even in open air.
I’d fled to Billings, thinking smaller would be better. And it was, compared to Seattle. But even with only a tenth of Seattle’s population, Billings had started feeling too crowded lately.
But Garnet Bend… The way Coop described it, Garnet Bend sounded perfect.
Pawsitive Connections with their therapy animals. Al Pacacino. The name had made me giggle, Coop grinning at my reaction like my laughter was a gift. I could picture it perfectly—the alpaca’s haughty expression, the way it would tilt its head just so, creating the ideal portrait angle.
Resting Warrior Ranch, where soldiers who’d been broken by war could find peace. Space where they could roam, where the weight of what they’d seen and done could ease just a little. I understood that need for space, for room to exist without walls closing in.
His friends sounded like characters from a story, but the kind you desperately wanted to be real.
Beckett, who trained security dogs, but whose kitten, Chaos, had zero respect for his authority.
I’d giggled at the image of this tough military guy being bossed around by eight ounces of attitude, imagining the composition—large man, tiny kitten, the contrast that would tell the whole story.
I’d also shoot Audra in the picture, the woman Coop told me about, whom Beckett had fallen in love with recently when she’d shown up out of nowhere.
Lark, who ran the whole Pawsitive Connections operation with compassion and efficiency, who understood that sometimes healing came with four legs and unconditional love.
Travis, the tech genius who’d found ways to be useful to his team without leaving his house, working through whatever demons kept him isolated but not alone.
Every word had painted a picture of a place where broken people could find wholeness. Where trauma was understood, not judged. Where community meant something real, not just proximity.
“I want to see it all,” I whispered before I could stop myself, the words escaping into the morning air like a wish I couldn’t take back.
The body behind me went completely still, then Coop was rolling me onto my back, looming over me with an intensity that stole my breath. His eyes searched mine, and whatever he found there transformed his expression into something fierce and protective and absolutely certain.
“You will.” He cupped my face, thumb brushing my cheekbone with reverent gentleness. “We’re going to get out of this alive, Mia. Both of us. I’m going to take you to Garnet Bend and show you everything. Every single thing I told you about.”
“Coop—” Somehow I didn’t mind calling him that now. He’d told me that’s what they called him at home in Garnet Bend.
Coop wasn’t the enemy. Coop was part of all the elements that made up Ryan Cooper.
“If this is fate’s fucked-up way of giving us a second chance, I’m not losing it. Not losing you. Not again.”
His mouth crashed down on mine, the kiss desperate and promising and everything I wanted to believe in. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, feeling the solid weight of him anchor me to this moment, this hope, this possibility of a future I’d stopped letting myself imagine.
My body was tender from last night, muscles deliciously sore in ways I’d forgotten they could be.
But when he settled between my thighs, when I felt his cock hard against me, that soreness became irrelevant.
I wanted him again. Wanted the connection, the closeness, the confirmation that this was real.
He slid his hand down my side, fingers tracing the curve of my hip, and I arched into him, ready to lose myself again—
The sound of engines shattered the morning silence like gunfire.
Multiple vehicles, their approach unmistakable on the gravel road, growing louder with each second.
We both froze, Coop’s entire body going rigid above me. His head snapped up, and I watched the transformation happen—lover to warrior in a heartbeat. The tenderness in his eyes hardened to tactical assessment. The gentle hand on my hip became a weapon-ready fist.
“Oliver’s back.” His jaw clenched.
We scrambled out of bed, throwing on clothes with the efficiency of people who’d gotten too used to danger. My hands shook as I pulled on jeans, the fabric rough against skin that still held the memory of Coop’s touch. The contrast was jarring—from safety to threat in seconds.
“The cameras,” I said, the words tight with returning fear. “What do we do about them? They’re going to know we messed with them.”
“We put them back where we found them. Exactly where we found them. Oliver’s men will check them first thing, probably assume the lightning surge from last night’s storm fried them.”
“They’ll replace them?”
“Without a doubt. Probably today.” He pulled his shirt on, muscles rippling with controlled tension. “Which means we’re back to only talking freely in the bathroom. I’ll make sure to keep that area clear.”
I nodded, trying to shift my mind-set from the woman who’d spent the night rediscovering love to the woman who needed to survive this hell.
Thoughts about Garnet Bend, about meeting Al Pacacino and watching Chaos terrorize Beckett, about meeting Coop’s friends and finding a place where I could finally breathe—I had to lock them away where they couldn’t distract me.
The middle of hell was no place for hope.
“Hey.” Coop caught my chin, tilting my face up to his. “We’re going to get through this.”
“I want to help.” The words came out before I could second-guess them. “I can’t just sit here being scared. Tell me what I can do.”
He studied me for a moment, concern clear in his eyes. “Mia, you don’t have to—”
“Yes, I do. I promise I won’t have another breakdown. Please. I need to feel useful.”
He brushed his thumbs across my cheeks. “You are useful, and your breakdown wasn’t unreasonable after what you’ve been through.”
“Look. I’m here, there’s no way around that. We might as well put me to any good use we can.” I gripped his wrists, squeezing gently. “Please. Let me help you.”
He was quiet for a long moment, clearly torn between protecting me and recognizing my need for agency. “The Gathering tomorrow. Oliver’s got something planned beyond just showing off weapons to buyers.”
I suppressed a shudder, remembering Oliver’s pale eyes cataloging me like inventory. “Something’s off about the whole thing.”
“Yeah. And unfortunately, we won’t know what it is until it happens.” He moved closer, his voice dropping even though the cameras were still disabled. “I need to document who shows up. These buyers—they’ll be careful, probably using aliases, avoiding photographs.”
“I could help with that.” The idea formed as I spoke. “My background—photography, design—I’m trained to notice faces. Details. The way light hits different bone structures, unique proportions. I could memorize them, help identify them later for authorities.”
Understanding crossed his face, followed by admiration. “That’s… Mia, that’s brilliant. But it could be dangerous if they notice you watching—”
“They won’t. I’ll be the scared toy, keeping her eyes down. But I’ll be studying them. Especially anyone you point out.”
I moved away from him, sitting down on the bed to put on my socks and shoes, thinking about how best to do this. How best to categorize the buyers in my mind so I’d remember the most details.
For the first time since this nightmare started, I felt like more than a victim. I had a role to play, a contribution to make that could help bring down Oliver’s entire operation.
I found Coop staring at me, his expression soft with something that looked like wonder.
“What?” I asked.
“You.” He shook his head slowly, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. “Do you have any idea how incredible you are?”
My face flushed hot. “Coop—”
“No, I mean it. Most people would have shattered by now. Hell, most trained operatives would be struggling with what you’ve been through.
But look at you—not just surviving but finding ways to fight back.
To turn this around on them.” He cupped my face again, thumb tracing my cheekbone.
“You’re a warrior, Mia. You just don’t know it yet. ”
Warrior.
Like I was one of them, one of his brothers who’d survived the unsurvivable.
I stood and kissed him, unable to find words for what his faith in me meant. The kiss was softer than before, less desperate but somehow more meaningful. A promise. A partnership. An acknowledgment that whatever came next, we’d face it together.
When we broke apart, his eyes held that same fierce determination I’d seen earlier. We both knew what we had to do.
Coop moved through the cabin with quiet efficiency, replacing the cameras he’d removed last night.
I watched silently as he positioned each one back exactly where they’d originally been.
His jaw was tight with disgust as he handled each device, these electronic eyes that would soon be watching us again.
The morning light slanted through the windows differently now, harsh instead of golden. But something fundamental had shifted. I had shifted. I wasn’t just the traumatized woman trying to survive anymore. I had a purpose. A plan. A partner who saw me as a warrior.
Coop took my hand, squeezing it once before letting go. We couldn’t afford obvious displays of real affection now, not with Oliver back, not with whatever twisted plans he had for the Gathering approaching.
But that single squeeze said everything. We were in this together. We would survive this together.
“Ready?” he asked.
I thought about Garnet Bend. About therapy animals and mountain views, about second chances and the family of broken warriors Coop had found. About the future we might have if we could survive.
“Ready.”
He nodded, his expression shifting into the cold mask of the arms dealer Oliver expected to see. I let my shoulders curve inward, becoming again the cowed woman who belonged to a dangerous man.
We had work to do.