Chapter 16
Grant shuffled through the endless stack of paperwork on his desk—no matter what part of the military you belonged to, there was always some kind of bureaucratic bullshit to deal with—and checked his email for the hundredth time that day, hoping for some sort of notice that the investigation was over.
Evan leaned back in his chair. “Nothing?”
“As usual,” Grant said. “I thought Lockhart said it would take a couple days max.”
“Probably just tying up loose ends and covering their own asses before they sign off on everything. You know how they are,” Evan assured him.
A week had passed since the sting, since Grant had been able to hold Everly in his arms. He told himself to be patient, that he knew the drill. But it felt totally different when she was involved. Like a piece of him was missing.
He ran a finger down the sketch that Everly had tucked into his bag before they’d left the cabin. The view of the mountains from the backyard. He’d framed it and put it on his desk like the sentimental bastard that he was.
Noah strolled over and leaned against Grant’s desk. “Just heard from Lockhart. Andropov is awake, but not talking. Maybe soon.”
What more was there to tell? Andrei Andropov, it turned out, had enough cocaine and amphetamines in his system to kill a horse. He’d been admitted to the hospital for detox, and then after that, he was the government’s problem. End of story.
“No word from Mikhail Andropov?” Evan asked. “Not even to check up on his brother?”
“Nope.” Noah rapped his knuckles against Grant’s desk. “Chatter indicates he’s still nestled away in Moscow, apparently too preoccupied with his own business dealings to worry about what his family’s getting up to in the US.”
It really was over, then. The man who had caused this shitstorm was currently handcuffed to a hospital bed, soon to be behind bars. Everly was safe. She could move on with her life. Would she still want Grant in it, now that the crisis had passed?
“Hey. McDowell. Wanna hit up the range for a bit, get out of the office?” Noah asked, interrupting his morose train of thought.
Grant scraped a hand down his face. He really didn’t, but what excuse did he have? “Sure.” He threw a few things into his backpack and followed Noah down to the indoor range that they used for training. Someone had already loaded fresh targets at the end of each lane—STAG tradition.
Grant willed himself to focus as he racked his weapon, willed himself not to think about standing behind Everly, breathing in her sweet scent as he helped her aim the gun.
In the lane next to him, Noah fired in rapid succession, blowing a perfect hole right through the middle of the paper.
Grant followed suit, but the shot went wild, barely grazing the edge of the paper and landing in the back panel.
He fired again and again, but only one of the bullets landed in the center.
“You okay?” Noah’s head appeared around the corner.
Hell, no, he wasn’t okay. Nothing in Grant’s world had felt right for days now. “Just tired,” he replied. They both knew that wasn’t true. STAG could hit a target from a mile away on a few hours of sleep. It was part of the job.
He loaded a fresh target, then emptied another clip. Holes riddled the paper, but none of them landed in the middle.
“Whoa.” Noah entered his booth, surveying Grant from head to toe. “Tell me.”
Grant shook his head. “I can’t wait around anymore. I have to see Everly, to know that she’s all right. I should have heard something by now.”
“You can’t break the no contact order. Lockhart—”
“Fuck the no-contact order. And fuck Lockhart,” he added, Noah gaping at him.
“I’m not sacrificing the woman I love for the sake of adhering to a pointless order.
Everly’s not a terrorist. We all know it.
If Lockhart wants to court-martial me over this, then so be it.
I’m done.” He’d already lost someone because he’d kept quiet and minded his own business.
He wasn’t making that mistake again. He was going to see Everly tonight, even if it cost him his career in STAG.
Noah stared at him, hands braced on his hips, his jaw working. Grant steeled his spine, prepared for orders to stay on post indefinitely, but Noah just shook his head. “Go get her, man,” he said softly. “Go get your girl. I’ll cover for you here as long as I can.”
His heart filled with gratitude. Noah was his captain, yes, but at the end of the day they were all brothers. They’d always have each others’ backs when it mattered most. And right now, nothing mattered more than making sure that Everly was safe.
Grant clapped Noah on the shoulder, then shrugged on his backpack, already heading for the door. Atlanta was four hours away, and he wasn’t going to waste another damn minute.
◆◆◆
Everly shook some kibble into Posie’s bowl, then leaned against the counter and sighed.
House arrest had her ready to climb the walls with boredom.
With nothing else to do, she had used the last few days to pack her remaining belongings, determined now that her life in Atlanta was drawing to a close one way or another.
Lockhart had indeed pulled some strings, as he’d promised.
She was released from questioning under strict orders to remain at home, and even stricter orders not to contact Grant, or anyone else in the military.
The entire thing was overkill, really. Everly sighed.
Just a few more days of this nonsense, and then she would call Grant—hell, she’d drive to Savannah—and then they could figure out what came next.
If he’s still interested, a traitorous corner of her mind whispered.
Everly drummed her fingers against the countertop and pulled out her phone to scroll through the photos from the cabin, as she had done dozens of times over the past week.
There was the view from the screened porch, the rounded mountains rising in the distance behind a sweeping sea of trees.
Posie sleeping in front of the fire. The cabin, standing serene and timeless, as if it had been there as long as the mountains themselves.
And finally, a photo of Grant and her that Mr. Mason had snapped.
Their arms were wrapped around each other.
Everly was grinning at the camera, ready to laugh at some joke that Abel had cracked, and Grant was beaming down at her, as if she were the most precious thing he’d ever seen.
No one else had ever looked at her that way, and no one else had ever made her feel the way she did when she was with him.
Like her soul was complete, and she could be herself without judgment.
He’s interested, she assured herself. After everything that had transpired, she and Grant owed it to each other to at least try.
Deep down, she knew he wasn’t avoiding her.
Colonel Lockhart had promised that Grant would be in contact as soon as the CIA signed off.
But Everly knew from experience that the government didn’t always move quickly, and information could get lost in the pipeline.
Maybe the order had already been lifted, and someone had forgotten to tell her.
Her hand shook a little as she swiped out of her photos, then tapped on the email app. Agonizing seconds crept by while she waited for the inbox to refresh, and… there. Everly’s heart leapt into her throat as she saw the government address at the top of her unread emails.
Posie trotted over to rub herself against her ankles, but Everly barely noticed as she skimmed through the email, then forced herself to slow down and read it a second time.
She was in the clear. Not that she had doubted her own innocence, but a weight still lifted from her at seeing it confirmed. And Colonel Lockhart was copied on the email, which meant that Grant probably knew by now, too.
Optimism rose in her like the morning sun. It was finally over, and she and Grant were free to do whatever they wanted. For all she knew, he could be on his way here right now. She pulled up the phone app to call him.
Ding-dong.
“Oh my God,” she breathed, pocketing her phone.
Only one person would be ringing her doorbell this late in the evening—the one she wanted to see more than anyone else in the world.
Relief and happiness and excitement bubbled up inside her.
Everly’s knees went wobbly, but she managed to run to the door and throw it open, ready to launch herself into Grant’s arms and never let go.
She was greeted with the sight of a gun in her face. “Wanna buy a vacuum now, bitch?”
Oh, she’d made a terrible mistake. A fatal mistake.
Everly tried to back away, tried to run, but iron-tight arms grabbed her from behind, a dirty hand smothering her mouth and nose.
Adrenaline surged through her and she strained, unable to get enough leverage to kick or enough room to bite the hand that cut off her air.
Her last thoughts were of Grant, smiling at her in the sun, before the spurned salesman from last week struck her in the head with the butt of his pistol and darkness slipped over her vision.