Chapter 42 That’s My Fucking Wife （And She’s a Badass）
KADE
The second I see Bergen with his arm around Amanda’s waist, a gun pressed to her temple, the tight knot of terror in my chest threatens to explode into pure rage. But she’s alive. She’s got a look like she’s planning twelve different ways to murder him, and that tells me everything I need to know.
She’s okay. She’s more than okay. She’s magnificent. Even being held at gunpoint in a warehouse, she looks like she’s in control of the situation.
“Amanda.” I say her name, and I watch it hit her. Really hit her.
Her eyes go glassy for half a second. Her breath catches. I can see the tears threatening, see her processing everything. The lies. The eight years. The fact that I’m standing here.
But then she blinks. Hard. Once. Twice.
And just like that, the emotion disappears. Her jaw sets. Her shoulders square. Her eyes go sharp and focused. I know that look. That’s my wife switching into survival mode, compartmentalizing everything she’s feeling so she can deal with the immediate threat first and fall apart later.
God, I’ve missed her.
“You know,” Amanda says conversationally, like she’s chatting with the checkout person at the grocery store and not being held at gunpoint, “this whole dramatic hostage thing would be a lot more effective if you hadn’t spent the last twenty minutes confessing to being a traitorous piece of shit.”
Bergen’s grip tightens. “Shut up.”
“I mean, seriously. You do realize you just admitted to taking bribes from weapons dealers, right? In front of a witness? That’s not great strategy.”
I catch her eye and raise an eyebrow. She gives me the tiniest nod.
Three. Two.
“Also,” Amanda continues, “has anyone ever told you that your tactical vest makes you look like you’re cosplaying? Because you’re really not pulling it off. Trust me, I can read a color palette in an instant. I work in fashion.”
One.
Amanda drives her elbow back into Bergen’s solar plexus at the exact moment I move. He doubles over, gasping, his gun hand wavering just enough for me to get a clean shot.
The bullet takes him in the shoulder, spinning him away from Amanda. She rolls to the side, coming up with her bubblegum Glock and a murder-ready smile.
“Okay, that was fun,” she says, breathing hard but grinning. “What’s next?”
Before I can answer, Bergen’s back on his feet, clutching his wounded shoulder and pointing his gun at me instead.
“You always led with your pulse, Steele. That’s why you’re weak.”
“Weak?” Amanda snorts. “Buddy, you just got taken down by a woman in designer heels.”
“You don’t understand what you’ve cost me,” Bergen snarls, swinging the gun between us. “Years of planning, of building relationships—”
“You mean of betraying your country and getting people killed for money,” I interrupt. “Yeah, real tragic loss for humanity there.”
“Those relationships were worth millions.”
“And how much is your life worth?” Amanda asks sweetly, her Glock trained on his center mass with perfect form. Damn, I taught her well.
That’s when there’s a thud against the side door, like someone’s boot hit it. I look over just as the dented door crashes open and Jake rolls through, rifle raised.
“About time, Jake,” I call out, not taking my eyes off Bergen.
“Sorry I’m late,” he calls back. “Traffic was murder. Literally. Had to take out three guys in the parking lot.”
“Jake?” Amanda’s voice goes up an octave, her head whipping between us. “As in Raven’s Jake? Are you fucking kidding me right now?”
Jake grins. “Tell your sister I said hi.”
“Oh my God,” Amanda mutters. “My family has the worst taste in men.”
Bergen’s getting desperate now, I can see it in his eyes, and desperate men do stupid things.
“You think this is over?” he shouts. “You think killing me solves anything? There are others—”
“No, there aren’t,” I say calmly.
His face goes pale. “What did you do?”
“While you were down here playing villain with my wife, Jake and I cleaned house. Your entire network is gone, Bergen. Every contact, every safe house, every dirty penny you had hidden away.”
“You can’t… That’s impossible—”
Jake chimes in. “Actually, it was pretty easy once we had your laptop password. Hello Kitty Dollar Sign? Really? That’s your idea of top-tier security?”
Amanda snorts. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
“I wish I was. This guy was running an illegal multimillion-dollar operation with the password security of a middle-school girl.”
“You destroyed everything,” Bergen whispers, and for the first time since I walked in here, he looks genuinely broken.
“Yeah, we did. Just like you destroyed my marriage. Just like you tried to destroy her.”
I can see Bergen calculating, looking for an out, an angle, something to salvage from this disaster.
That’s when he makes his mistake. He swings the gun toward Amanda again.
I put three rounds in his chest before he can fully turn.
Bergen drops like a stone, his weapon clattering across the concrete floor.
The warehouse goes silent except for the ringing in my ears.
“Well,” Amanda says after a moment, lowering her gun. “That was anticlimactic.”
“You wanted more drama?” Jake asks, already moving to check Bergen’s body.
“I wanted him to suffer a little bit for ruining my favorite dress,” she says, looking down at her torn and dirty clothes. “This was a Diane von Furstenberg.”
I holster my weapon and move toward her, needing to touch her, to confirm she’s really okay. But she holds up a hand, stopping me.
“Hold on,” she says. “Before we do the whole reunion thing, I need to know. Are there any other massive lies you’ve been telling me? Any other secret identities? Are you an alien? A vampire? A Kardashian?”
“No aliens,” I say solemnly. “I’m just Kade. And Chad. And the Black Power Ranger.”
“Time traveler?”
“Sorry to disappoint you.”
“Damn. I really liked that theory.” She tilts her head, studying me. “So you’re just Kade Steele, international man of bad timing and worse communication?”
“That’s me.”
Jake clears his throat. “Uh, hate to interrupt this touching moment, but I should get the cleanup started.”
He’s already wrapping Bergen’s body in a tarp he found somewhere. Always efficient, Jake.
“You sure?” I ask.
“No sweat. Try not to get kidnapped again,” he adds to Amanda. “It’s a huge inconvenience for my schedule.”
“I’ll do my best,” she says dryly. “But I make no promises.”
Jake chuckles as he hefts Bergen’s body over his shoulder like it weighs nothing. “Yeah, well, you signed the waiver when you said ‘I do.’ Might as well embrace it.”
He heads for the exit, pausing at the door. “Oh, and Amanda? Next time Raven asks where I’ve been, just tell her I was handling some work stuff. She doesn’t need to know about… this.”
“Your secret’s safe with me, for now. But Jake?” Amanda grins. “You better treat my sister right, or Josephine here and I are going to have words.”
Jake pauses, Bergen’s body still slung over his shoulder. “Wait. You named your gun?”
“Of course I named her. After Josephine Baker—dancer, World War Two spy for the French Resistance, total badass.”
“Awwwww.” Jake grins. “That’s actually adorable.”
“Don’t ‘aww’ me. I will shoot you.”
“Noted,” he says, still chuckling as he disappears into the night.
The warehouse falls quiet again, leaving just Amanda and me alone for the first time since my real identity was revealed.
I take a step toward her, then another, watching her face for any sign that she’s going to bolt.
She doesn’t move, just watches me approach with those sharp eyes that see through all my bullshit.
She lets me get close. Closer than I expected. Enough to see the tears starting to track down her cheeks, cutting through the dust and grime. Close enough to reach for her and to rest my forehead against hers.
That’s when she raises Josephine, pressing the barrel under my chin.
Her hands are steady despite the tears. Her eyes are steady, too, even as they fill with eight years’ worth of pain and questions I’m not sure I can answer. We stand there like this, her gun against my throat, the weight of what’s been left unsaid hanging between us.
And for the first time since I walked through that door, I understand that saving her was the easy part.
Earning her trust back?
That’s going to be the fight of my life.