Chapter 41
The next morning came with good news—Griff was being discharged. Sarah had spent the night in the uncomfortable visitor's chair, refusing to leave despite the nurses' suggestions about the hotel across the street. She'd almost lost him. She wasn't going anywhere.
Doc had texted late in the evening. In light of the circumstances, the Bureau insisted Sarah take as much leave as she needed to recover.
So she had time. She could stay until Griff made it clear he was ready to move on.
Now she sat in the hospital cafeteria with Doc, both holding cups of coffee that could strip paint.
"This is terrible," Sarah said, taking another sip anyway.
Her mentor studied her with those sharp eyes that missed nothing. "You didn't sleep."
"Neither did you."
"I'm old. I don't need sleep. You're young and in love."
Sarah nearly choked on the awful coffee. "Doc—"
"Don't 'Doc' me. I've seen how you look at him. More importantly, I've seen how he looks at you."
Before Sarah could respond, Zara and Finn appeared, both looking grim.
"That Bureau director, Thomspon, they arrested was the guy who ordered your supe to send you to Montana,” Finn said without preamble, sliding his laptop onto the table.
Zara shot him an exasperated look before smiling softly at Sarah. “Your supervisor had no idea. He truly believed the supposed field exercise was legit.”
“He’s a good guy,” Sarah said, but in the back of her mind, she wondered. Why hadn’t he called? Not a word since the whole Buckley incident went down.
“He’s got to stay clear until whoever’s investigating this disaster gives him the go-ahead,” Doc said, reading her mind yet again. “Standard protocol.”
"It’s clear your direct boss thought the ‘field exercise."
The knot in Sarah’s stomach eased a little. That made perfect sense. Still, the lack of support from her work team only added to the sense that she didn’t belong with the Bureau. Or in Washington. Who would even notice if she left?
Her houseplant. Maybe.
"I personally confirmed that Thompson was on Buckley's payroll," Finn explained. "We traced payments going back five years. He was their inside man, feeding them information about investigations, identifying threats."
"Like me," Sarah said quietly.
Zara's expression was sympathetic but angry. "You got too close to the money trail. He marked you for elimination."
Sarah stared at the photo. This man, someone who'd taken an oath to protect and serve, had tried to have her murdered.
"They got the right guy," Finn added. "Sentinel’s only contact in the Bureau. We wanted to you to know."
Zara stood, gathering her laptop. "We'll let you process this. But Sarah—you should know you have options now. The Bureau owes you more than they can ever repay."
“Don’t we all?” Doc added. She sketched Sarah a jaunty salute. “Justice for Marcus and for James.”
Finn paused at Doc's shoulder on his way out. "Have you told her yet?"
"Told me what?" Sarah asked.
"Nothing that can't wait," Doc said smoothly, but her eyes promised Finn retribution for his lack of subtlety.
After they left, Doc studied Sarah over her cup. "How are you really?"
"Someone at the Deputy Director level wanted me dead." Sarah's voice came out steadier than she felt. "My own agency."
"Only if you stay," Doc corrected gently. "It’s time you considered your options, dear. You don't owe them anything."
Sarah's phone buzzed.
Griff: "Do they have chocolate pudding? I'm dying up here. Need fuel..."
Despite everything, she smiled. "That's my cue."
Doc caught her hand as she stood. "Sarah. Whatever you're planning to say to him—say it. No elaborate strategies. Just truth."
Throat tight, she nodded. She'd resolved for sure last night, watching Griff sleep, monitoring his breathing.
She was going to tell him everything. That she loved him.
That she wanted to stay. That she'd convince Admiral Knight she could be an asset to the team, and if not, she'd find work in Hope Landing.
She'd do taxes if she had to. Whatever it took to stay with him.
Only if he wanted that, too. Of course.
Her hands shook. The million-dollar question.
The elevator ride felt endless. Her carefully rehearsed speech kept rearranging itself in her head. What if he didn't want her to stay? What if their crisis-forged bond didn't translate to real life?
She gripped the elevator rail with her good hand. The words came without conscious thought:
Lord, I've been playing it safe my whole life.
Following rules, staying in my lane, never taking risks with my heart.
But You brought me through bullets and bear spray to find this man, this team, this purpose.
Please give me courage now. Not the courage to face assassins—You already gave me that.
But the courage to be vulnerable. To say what's in my heart.
And please... if this is Your plan, let him want me to stay. Let this be real. Let this be right.
The elevator dinged. Third floor.
Your will, not mine, she added quickly, the way her father had taught her. But Lord, I really hope Your will includes Griff.
She stepped out, took a deep breath, and headed for his room.
She found him sitting on the bed, fully dressed in jeans and a Knight Tactical t-shirt someone had brought him. He looked great. Alive. The bandage on his head was smaller now, and his color was back to normal.
"Hey," she said, hovering in the doorway.
"Hey yourself." His smile made her knees weak. "I'm getting sprung. Doc says she's driving us to her place. Apparently, I'm not allowed to be unsupervised for 48 hours, and the team’s heading back to Hope Landing in an hour."
"That sounds like Doc."
An awkward pause. They both started talking at once.
"Sarah, I need to—"
"Griff, I want to—"
They stopped, laughed nervously.
"You first," he said.
Sarah's courage fled. All her rehearsed words scattered. On the bedside table, she spotted two evidence bags. Her father's cross. Tank's tags.
"They returned our things," she said instead of everything she meant to say.
Griff picked up the bags, something shifting in his expression. "Yeah. The nurse brought them an hour ago."
He opened the bag with Tank's tags, running his thumb over the raised letters. Then her cross, the silver gleaming in the morning light.
"Sarah—"
"I want to stay."
The words burst out, completely unplanned.
Griff froze. "What?"
"I want to stay. With you. With the team.
In Hope Landing or wherever." The words tumbled over each other now that the dam had broken.
"I know we've only known each other a few weeks, and I know your life is dangerous, and I know I'm not trained for field work, but I can learn.
I'm good at learning. And I can help with the financial stuff, the analysis, the—"
"Sarah—"
"I'll talk to Admiral Knight. Make a presentation about why Knight Tactical needs a forensic specialist. I've already started a PowerPoint. Seventeen slides about cost-benefit analysis and—"
"Sarah—"
"And if he says no, I'll find other work. There's got to be accounting firms in the area. Or I could go independent, work remotely. I'm very good with Excel, despite what you think, and—"
"You want to stay?" He crossed to her in two strides.
"Yes."
"With me?"
"Yes."
"Even though I can't work Excel?"
Despite everything, she laughed. "Even though."
"Even though my job involves people shooting at me?"
"I'll buy better bear spray."
“Not necessary.” He scrunched up his face. “You realize my team is insane."
"They're perfect."
"Even though—"
"Griff." She pressed her hand to his chest, feeling his heart racing as fast as hers. "I love you. I decided last night, watching you sleep, making sure you were still breathing. I'm done playing it safe. Done settling for normal. I want this. You. The team. All of it."
The big hand that covered hers trembled. "I guess prayers do get answered."
"What prayers?"
"I spent all night trying to figure out how to convince you to stay. And praying to the Lord to help close the deal." His thumb traced her knuckles. "I had a whole speech planned. Seventeen reasons why Hope Landing is amazing. Eighteen reasons why you belong with the team. Nineteen reasons why—"
"Why what?"
"Why I love you."
Her breath caught. "You do?"
"Sarah, I fell for you way before you bear-sprayed me.
I loved your quiet courage. Your determination.
That only sealed the deal, because only you would fight back that hard.
I loved you in that mine shaft, in Charleston, every terrifying moment since.
" He pulled her closer. "I didn't think I deserved you. "
"You don't get to decide what I deserve," she said firmly. "I do. And I deserve someone who'll tackle senators for me."
"Fair point."
They stood there, holding each other, her father's cross and Tank's tags on the table beside them—witnesses to this moment.
"So what now?" Sarah asked.
"Now we go to Doc's. You make your seventeen-slide presentation to the Admiral about why he needs you."
"How did you—"
"The team may have mentioned he's interested." Griff grinned. "But I wanted you to decide to stay for us, not for a job."
Sarah pulled back. "They knew?"
"Apparently. Axel almost spilled yesterday but Ronan shut him up."
"Those sneaky—"
A knock interrupted. Admiral Knight himself stood in the doorway, looking amused.
"Ms. Winters. Hawkins. I hear you're being discharged."
"Sir," they said simultaneously.
"Ms. Winters, about that position we discussed—"
"We haven't discussed—" Sarah started.
"We're discussing it now." The Admiral's expression was all business, but his eyes crinkled with warmth. "Knight Tactical needs a financial specialist. Someone who can follow money trails and work with the team in the field. Interested?"
Sarah's mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
"I... I have a seventeen-slide presentation about why you should hire me."
"I'm sure you do." Now he was definitely fighting a smile. "Email it to me. Consider it a formality. The job's yours if you want it."
"I want it," Sarah said immediately.
"Good. Report to Hope Landing next Monday. Griff can show you around." He turned to leave, then paused. "Oh, and Ms. Winters? Excellent work with the bear spray. Not many people can take down our Ghost."
He left. Sarah turned to Griff, who was grinning.
"Did that just happen?"
"A hundred percent. Welcome to Knight Tactical," he said. "Where everything's made up and the PowerPoints don't matter."
She kissed him then, right there in the hospital room with morning light streaming in and their whole future spread before them. When they broke apart, she reached for the evidence bags.
"These belong to you," she said, holding out Tank's tags.
"Negative. Tank's tags are yours. You finished his mission." He touched the tags gently. "He would want you to have them."
Sarah nodded, fastening them around her neck. Then she picked up the evidence bag with her father's cross, her heart hammering.
"I have something for you," she said, pulling out the silver cross.
"Sarah, that's your father's—"
"I know what it is." She held it out to him. "Dad wore this his entire career. Mom gave it to me when she died. She said I'd know when I found the right person to share it with."
Griff's hands stayed at his sides. "I’m not worthy of that."
"Negative, Captain Hawkins. You are." Her voice shook slightly. "You came back to faith through this mission. Through Tank. Through us. Dad would have understood that journey—he had his own dark nights of the soul."
"Sarah—"
"Please." She stepped closer. "You saved me. You walked back into faith to do it. Let me give you something to remind you that the Lord is still there, even when things get dark."
Griff's eyes were bright with unshed tears, but he stopped protesting.
She reached up, fastening it around his neck herself. "You're exactly who my father would have wanted to wear this. A warrior who protects others. A man who found his way back to God. The man I love."
The cross settled against his chest. Griff's hand came up to touch it reverently.
"Thank you," he whispered, pulling her close. "I'll honor it. Honor him."
"I know you will."
Leaning into him, Sarah ran her thumb over the cross at the base of his throat. "Tank would think this is crazy. Me with his tags, you with my cross, both of us alive when we shouldn't be."
"Tank would think this is perfect," Griff corrected. "He always said God works in mysterious ways. Pretty sure bear spray qualifies as mysterious."
They stood there for a moment, looking at each other. Tank's tags gleamed against Sarah's chest. Her father's cross caught the light against Griff's. Two legacies, two faiths, two hearts finally finding their way home.
Sarah saw everything in his eyes—the grief that was finally healing, the faith that was slowly returning, the love he'd been too scared to voice. And she knew he could see the same in hers—the courage she'd found, the family she'd gained, the future she was choosing.
"We're really doing this?" she whispered.
His hand came up to cup her face, thumb brushing away a tear she didn't know had fallen. "We're really doing this."
Doc appeared in the doorway, shattering the moment with perfect timing. "If you two are done with your romantic declarations, I have a car waiting. The Admiral wants to brief you both at my farm before he flies out. Something about Sarah needing to sign liability waivers."
"Liability waivers?" Sarah's voice climbed.
Griff grinned. "Standard Knight Tactical paperwork. Includes acts of God, acts of Axel, and bear spray incidents."
"They have a waiver for bear spray?"
"They do now," Doc said primly. "Legal was very thorough."
As they left the hospital together, it hit her. A feeling she hadn’t experienced since her parents were alive.
Home.
Not a place, but a team. A purpose. A man sent from Heaven to complete her.
Finally.