Chapter Twenty
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The morning light bled over the horizon, soft and gold, washing Crossfire Creek in a kind of hush that felt too peaceful for what they’d just come through.
Brenna leaned against the SUV, her boots dusty, hands scraped, and mind still catching up. The sirens had gone silent. The gunfire had stopped. Gary was in custody. Beck was alive.
They all were.
But the echoes hadn’t quieted yet.
Now, the place was swarming with the chaos that came at the end of an op.
The bomb squad was inside Timberline, and the CSIs had arrived to process the exterior while they waited for the all-clear to get inside and start gathering whatever they could find.
Both county cops and Crossfire Creek deputies were on the scene.
Just on the other side of the road from where she sat, Harlan, Beck, Garrett, Cal, and Colt stood in a tight circle with Noah, voices low. A debrief, probably.
A Crossfire Ops thing.
One she had excused herself from. Oh, Noah and the others had tried to include her, but she’d said she needed to catch her breath. Which wasn’t exactly a lie. Breath catching was a high priority right now. That and tamping down some of the raw nerves that were still jangling just beneath her skin.
She let her gaze drift past the Crossfire Ops team to the EMTs still working. The six hostages were scattered across the grass and pavement, wrapped in blankets, bandaged, dazed.
Two had already been loaded into ambulances. One with a broken arm, the other still fighting through the fog of a likely concussion. Neither injury appeared to be life-threatening.
Gary was heading to the hospital, too. In restraints. And after that, straight to jail once he recovered from the bullet she’d put in his knee.
Brenna pulled in that much needed breath and let it out slowly.
It was over.
It had been a nightmare, one more in a long line she’d carry with her. But it could have been worse.
A hell of a lot worse.
Brenna groaned under her breath when she saw Naomi heading her way.
The woman moved slowly, one arm wrapped around her middle. A fresh bandage covered the side of her head, clean and tight, a stark contrast to the blood and chaos from earlier.
Naomi didn’t have her usual edge. No sharp words. No fire. Maybe she, too, was still catching her breath.
She stopped a few feet away and looked at Brenna with tired eyes. “Thank you. For stopping him.”
Brenna opened her mouth, about to say she was just doing her job. But the words caught. This hadn’t been a job. Not really.
Naomi leaned against the SUV beside her with a quiet wince. “I didn’t know,” she went on. “That he’d snapped like that. That he hated Strike Force so much. He never talked about it. Not once.”
Brenna nodded and let her keep talking. Sometimes people needed to hear themselves say it.
Naomi’s voice cracked. “He killed Jared.” Her breath hitched. “That bastard killed him.” Tears spilled down her face, and this time she didn’t fight them.
Brenna stared ahead. “Yeah.”
In her mind, she added the rest. Crossfire Ops would dig into it. So would the cops. There had to be a trail from Gary to Jared’s uncle. Money had probably changed hands.
And if it had, they’d find it.
A car pulled into the lot, tires crunching over gravel. Brenna looked up and let out another low groan.
Wallace.
Great. Yet someone else she didn’t want to see right now.
He parked fast and jumped out, slamming the door behind him. His eyes scanned the group of hostages until he spotted one of the hostages that Brenna knew was his sister. She was wrapped in a blanket, seated on a stretcher.
Relief washed over his face for a split second. Then it twisted into something sharper.
He turned toward Brenna and Naomi, his voice cutting through the morning air. “I heard what happened. I came to check on her. And you—you were wrong. All of you. It wasn’t me. It was Gary. The whole damn time.”
Brenna stood, but didn’t rise to meet his anger. “You had means, motive, and opportunity,” she said. “We would’ve been reckless not to include you on our list of suspects.”
Wallace shook his head, jaw tight. His eyes burned as they moved to Naomi.
“This is on you,” he snapped. “You probably put the idea in their heads to begin with.”
Naomi flinched like he’d slapped her. Her mouth opened, but whatever she’d meant to say died in her throat. She looked at him, stricken, then looked away.
Brenna stepped in, not with words, but with her presence. A quiet stand between the two of them. Wallace gave a bitter huff, then turned and walked off toward his sister without another word.
Naomi swallowed hard. “He’ll never forgive me,” she said, almost to herself. “Even though I didn’t know. Even though I lost Jared, too.”
Brenna looked at her, saw the weight in her face. The grief. The guilt.
She tore her gaze from Naomi when she heard the footsteps approaching behind them. The gait was steady and familiar.
Colt.
Naomi noticed him and straightened, brushing quickly at her cheeks. “I should go,” she said softly. “Thanks again, Brenna. For everything.” She turned and walked away, leaving Brenna standing there.
Brenna’s eyes met Colt’s as he crossed the lot toward her. He smiled. That slow, crooked grin that used to unravel her with barely a glance.
Something in her chest loosened.
He was alive. Not injured. Not lost. Not gone. Here. The weight of everything they’d survived pressed down for a second, and then lifted with that one look. The fear, the tension, the blood and smoke and wreckage—it all faded to the edges.
She took in the sight of him. Dust on his camo pants. Shirt torn near the collar. Smudges of dirt on his jaw and a nick near his temple that had already dried. He looked like hell.
And better than she remembered.
He didn’t stop when he reached her. He just stepped in and kissed her. Warm. Steady. Certain. Her breath caught, but she didn’t pull away.
When he finally leaned back, he rested his forehead against hers and said, “I couldn’t help myself. You just looked so damn good standing there.”
She snorted. “I’m covered in dirt, probably blood, and I’m pretty sure I’ve got spiderwebs in my hair.”
He grinned, that same easy grin that had always gotten under her skin. “Still looking damn good.”
She didn’t roll her eyes. She kissed him again.
Brenna barely had time to savor the second kiss before she heard footsteps behind them. Beck and Harlan crossed the lot, both looking worse for wear. Beck had a fresh line of stitches along his temple, red and clean, standing out against the dirt still on his face.
He gave them a crooked smile. “For the record, I’m not a fan of getting stitched up.”
Brenna raised an eyebrow. “You don’t say.”
Colt chuckled, still close beside her. “Bet it builds character.”
Harlan grinned. “Might even improve your bedside manner. You know, give you some empathy when you’re digging bullets out of our flesh.”
Beck shook his head without hesitation. “Nope. Not a chance.”
Brenna laughed, and it felt real. Not just relief or leftover adrenaline, but something lighter. Warmer.
Alive.
Harlan clapped Beck on the shoulder, careful of the stitches. “It was worth a try.”
Brenna leaned back against the bumper again, her arms crossed, eyes on Beck.
He nodded toward her, the hint of a grin playing at his lips. “Gotta say, Brenna, hell of a shot. Right through Gary’s knee. Clean.”
She shrugged. “Wasn’t exactly aiming for clean.”
Beck chuckled. “Still. Impressive under pressure. Remind me never to piss off someone with your skill set when they’re holding a weapon.”
Brenna smiled, the tension in her chest easing another inch. “You were the one tied to a bomb and still yelling at us to leave you behind.”
Beck shrugged, wincing a little. “I’m dramatic like that.”
They laughed, and for a brief moment, there was no blood, no pain, no Gary, no ghosts. Just them. Together.
Still breathing.
Noah made his way over, his sleeves rolled up, dirt on his boots, but his usual calm in place. He stopped in front of them, hands on his hips, and gave a small nod.
“Congrats on a good op,” he said. His eyes scanned the group, then landed on Brenna. “All of you. And that includes you.”
Brenna blinked, caught off guard by the direct praise.
“It’s nice to have a different outcome this time,” Noah added, voice quieter now.
It was.
She didn’t say anything. Because she wasn’t sure she could have survived another Timberline massacre.
Beck clapped Noah on the shoulder, then turned to Colt and Brenna. “Noah arranged to have some rides delivered so we can get the heck out of here. I’m gonna go find something greasy and terrible to eat. Or sleep for a week. Haven’t decided yet.”
Harlan smiled. “Do both. In that order.”
They exchanged quick goodbyes, then headed off together toward one of the five Crossfire Ops SUVs that arrived about a half hour earlier.
Noah stayed, and he looked at Brenna. “You know,” he said, “if you want back in, we could use someone like you.”
Her heart skipped.
“I know you’ll need time to think it over…” Noah went on.
“I’ll take it,” she said. The words were out before she could think.
Colt glanced at her, surprised. So did Noah. Then both of them smiled.
Noah gave her a nod and patted her arm. “Come by the office in a couple days. I’ll get you squared away.” He turned, already walking, but tossed one last thing over his shoulder. “Welcome back.”
And then he was gone.
Colt stayed by her side after Noah walked off, his hand brushing lightly against hers.
He tilted his head and gave her a look that was both warm and teasing. “What do you say we find some greasy food to celebrate not getting blown up?”
Brenna smiled. “Yes. Absolutely yes.”
They walked toward the SUV, the morning sun rising behind them. The adrenaline had faded, replaced by something steadier. Calmer.
Alive.
Once inside the SUV, Colt leaned over and kissed her. Slower this time. No panic. No tension. Just quiet certainty.
When he pulled back, he looked at her like he was trying to read something behind her eyes. “Didn’t expect you to say yes to the job so fast,” he said. “Figured you’d need some time to think it through.”
Brenna settled into the seat, fingers curled lightly in her lap. “I thought I would too,” she admitted. “But this op… it reminded me how much I miss being part of a team.”
He nodded, watching her carefully. “Is that the only reason?”
She looked at him. This was the time for truth. No more dancing around it.
“No,” she said. “I want to work with you. I want to be with you.” Her voice was steady, but her heart beat hard in her chest. “I’ve spent years trying to forget what I lost. But I don’t want to run from it anymore. From you.”
Colt didn’t speak right away. He just reached over, took her hand, and laced their fingers together.
“You’re not running,” he said. “You’re home.”
And for the first time in a long time, she believed it.
Brenna looked down at their joined hands, her fingers curling tighter around his. The warmth of his touch steadied her, but her heart was pounding again, different this time. Not from fear. From something deeper.
She drew in a breath. “I’m about to take a risk that scares me.”
Colt looked at her, brows lifting. “I just watched you shoot a man’s kneecap without flinching.”
Her lips twitched, but the nerves in her chest tightened. “This is different.”
She forced the words out, each one tugging something loose inside her. “I’m in love with you.” The silence stretched a second too long, and her throat started to close. “I know it’s probably too soon. I just—”
He stopped her with a kiss. Firm, steady, grounding.
When he pulled back, his voice was low, certain. “We’ve known each other for nearly a decade. It’s not too soon.”
Brenna swallowed hard. “The timing sucks.”
He smiled. “We’re alive and celebrating. I’d say the timing’s just right.”
He leaned in and kissed her again, slower this time, like he wanted to memorize everything about this moment.
When he pulled back, his thumb brushed gently over her cheek. “I’m in love with you, too, Brenna.”
She let out a shaky breath and leaned into him, her head resting against his shoulder. The future suddenly didn’t feel so heavy. So uncertain.
It felt… possible.
“Let’s go home,” he said. “Greasy food, maybe a shower. Definitely some sex. What do you say?”
“Yes,” she answered without a shred of hesitation.
“Yes to all of them?” he asked.
“To all,” she verified.
He grinned. “Then, home it is.” He started the engine and drove away from Timberline.
Home, she thought. Not just the place. The person.
She didn’t know what would come next. Missions, risks, scars that would never fully fade. But she wasn’t facing any of it alone anymore. She had a team again.
She had him.
Brenna smiled. It was time to start living like she meant it. Time to stop looking back.
The road stretched out in front of them, wide open.
And this time, she was ready.
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