Chapter 18 #2
Except, “Where’s your coat?” And then, “And you don’t have shoes on!”
She made a face. “No time.”
He shook his head, then pulled off his jacket, put it around her.
Then he pulled her up into his arms. “You are too much, woman.”
“I think you mean that I’m trouble.” She curled her arms around him and hung on.
“Oh, yes. Yes I do.”
And that’s when Orlando showed up, covered in snow, voices behind him, lights shredding the darkness.
“He saved my life,” Harley told him. “I thought Mars would shoot me dead in the chest and then, out of nowhere, Orlando leaped at him. I thought the gunshot would spook him.”
“Clearly fear isn’t going to keep him from saving his girl.”
She smiled at that. “Except, he’s not a combat dog—”
“Everyone is a combat dog when the person they love is in danger, trust me on this.”
She laughed then, and he was about to lower his mouth to hers again when those voices burst out of the darkness of the forest.
Sully, dressed in his oversized buckskin jacket, carried a rifle, running hard.
Deke and Hudson came next, and Crew behind them, all breathing poofs of smoky air.
Orlando circled, barking as if to say, Look, Dad, I did it!
Trust the dog.
Deke stood at the edge, peering down at Mars. “Think we should just leave him there? Maybe all that shouting will wake up some grizzly who will want a snack.”
Jericho glanced at Sully, who raised an eyebrow.
“I’m not serious,” Deke said and shook his head. “Crew, let’s get down there and get him cuffed. Then we’ll call for rescue.”
“Take your time,” Sully said, almost a growl.
“Any reason we need to worry about Sloan?” Hudson said, looking around.
Jericho stiffened, his gaze scanning the darkness. He looked down at Orlando. The dog stood, alert, his tail wagging. “No. I think Mars was alone.”
“Which means Sloan is after Wilder,” Harley said quietly. But she shivered in his arms, and the cold started to bite through his sweater.
“I’m bringing her back to the house,” he told his brothers. “I’ll leave you all to clean this up. My job here is done. Heel, Orlando.”
The dog fell behind him as he turned into the darkness.
Sully threw him his flashlight. “You might need this.”
Naw, he knew the way. He was going home.
HARLEY BALANCED a box marked “Kitchen” against her hip and nudged open the big oak doors of the Bowie house with her boot. The scent of cardboard and pine cleaner drifted through the grand entrance.
Her brother’s laughter echoed from somewhere upstairs, followed by Sunni’s giggles. They’d probably discovered another box of his childhood treasures that Harley had brought over from her closet in the dome.
“Auntie Hawley!” Daniel barreled around the corner, socked feet sliding on the floor. “Come see my new room! Daddy says I can paint it blue like the sky!”
She set the box on the kitchen counter. “In a minute, buddy.”
“Please?” He wrapped both arms around her leg, face tilted up with that grin that made her think of her father.
She’d had the dream again last night. The one of him on shore.
Except this time, she heard his words. “I’m proud of you.”
She’d woken up with a start, her heart thundering, but a deep sense of calm had poured over her.
Maybe it was just a dream. But it felt like enough.
In fact, she could breathe again, it seemed. And now Gabe was moving in next door—wasn’t that a twist? But apparently, until they tracked down Sloan, Jericho and Gabe wanted everyone where they could see each other.
Orlando came running in, his nails clicking on the hardwood. He’d appointed himself security detail since they’d started moving Gabe and Sunni in this afternoon. Smart dog. Even with Mars in custody, Wilder was still out there somewhere, with Sloan Sorros hunting him.
And she wouldn’t put it past the man to show up here.
“Daniel, I think Orlando wants to play.” Malachi appeared in the doorway, jacket dusted with snow. He reached into his pocket and tossed him a ball. “Go throw it for him.”
Daniel grabbed the ball and scampered out to the great room.
Malachi set a box on the counter. “You’re really going to join the sheriff’s department?” he asked Harley.
“Deke needs a detective. I have my police creds.” She shrugged. “Feels like a good fit.”
“So you’re saying yes to staying?”
Outside, Daniel had donned his winter gear and now chased Orlando through the front yard as twilight deepened. Jericho and Hudson stood talking by the Bowie truck they’d used to move everything. Jericho stood, hands on his hips, watching the fading sunlight slide across the whitened lake.
Like he owned the place or something.
Such a familiar and longed-for moment, it nearly made her ache with joy. “Definitely.”
“Excellent. I’m hoping you know how to make your mom’s cookies.”
She stared at Malachi, then laughed. “I could probably figure it out.”
They walked outside and she met Hudson as he carried in another box. “This one is marked books,” he said. “Seriously? I didn’t think five-year-olds could read.”
“They’re mine,” Sunni said, coming outside, Gabe behind her.
Gabe took the box. “Someday Sunni is going to be a famous author.” He winked at her.
“Clearly, she’ll have a lot of material,” Jericho said as Gabe went inside.
“When did you get back from town?” Harley asked Jericho.
Jericho smiled. “What you mean is . . . what did Moose say?”
She shrugged. “You’d make a decent PI.”
He laughed. “Yes, Moose said yes.”
She held up her fist. He bumped it. “I knew he would. Bowie’s Copper Mountain’s K9 SAR Service is open for business.”
“Not quite but soon. And it’s just a branch of Air One, so I don’t need my name on it.” He pulled her close by her lapels, bending to kiss—
“Auntie Hawley?” Daniel came running up. “Are you staying here with us?”
Harley turned to face him. “No, bud. I’ll be over at . . . my house.” She met Jericho’s gaze. Smiled. “But I’ll be close. And I’ll come over all the time to play with you.”
“Good.” Daniel launched himself into her arms. “Daddy says you catch bad guys.”
She laughed. “Sometimes.” She kissed him on the forehead, then set him down.
“Speaking of catching bad guys,” Jericho said as Daniel ran off again, “Deke said that Mars started talking. Gave them their storage locations in exchange for some deal Lydia put together. Did you have something to do with that, Harley?”
“I’m going to get to the bottom of who killed our parents, so yes. If Mars has information, I’m ready to trade.”
“Any news on Wilder?” Jericho asked.
“Deke says they’ve been to the crash site, but there’s been at least two storms since the Maverick Air plane went down—there’s no tracks left. Wilder is in the wind.”
“And so is Sloan.” His mouth tightened.
The front door opened, and Malachi came back out. “Hudson says the security system isn’t working. Needs the boiler man.”
Jericho raised an eyebrow. “Me?”
“Well, it’s not me,” Malachi said. “I’m Slick the Salesman.”
Jericho huffed out a laugh, then glanced at Harley. “Don’t go anywhere.” Then he kissed her, quick, sweet. Like it was absolutely the most normal thing in the world.
Maybe it was.
She went back to the kitchen to help Sunni unpack the boxes. Sunni wore an oversize sweatshirt, her hair pulled back, her ankle still in a boot.
“How are your parents?” Harley asked as she pulled out a couple appliances the Bowie home didn’t have—an Instant Pot, a rice cooker.
“Good,” Sunni said. “Dad is healing. I think they’re going to come out and live here for a while until they find Sloan.” She pulled out a mixer.
It felt right that the kitchen would be inhabited by someone who enjoyed cooking for her family. Harley had a feeling she was going to like getting to know her sister-in-law.
“So nice of the Bowie boys to let us stay here. I used to think they were the coolest family around.”
“They still are.”
“What about you and Jericho? Are you two getting married?” Sunni unwrapped a cookie jar.
Harley stared at her, her mouth open.
“Oh, c’mon. We’re sisters now. We can have secrets.” She winked at Harley. “It’s not like he doesn’t have forever written in his eyes when he looks at you.
Forever.
She liked the word. “Maybe,” she said softly.
Harley finished unloading the box, broke it down, and brought it back to the front.
Jericho stood on the wraparound porch, hands jammed in his jacket pockets, breath clouding in the frigid air. Darkness had fallen, the sun nearly gone. He stared out toward the whiteness of the lake, a distant look in his eyes.
She grabbed a jacket and stepped outside to join him. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” he said, then pointed up to the sky. “Look.”
The northern lights shimmered across the sky, ribbons of green and purple dancing between the stars. Below, the dome’s lights spilled through the forest, the trail between houses packed down now, a reminder of why she’d come here in the first place. Why she’d stayed.
Orlando pressed against her leg. She wasn’t alone anymore. She had backup, had people watching her six. A whole clan, in fact.
“You okay?” he asked. “Knowing Sloan’s out there?”
She met his gaze. “I’m not running. Not anymore.” The words felt right, felt true. “Besides, someone has to keep an eye on your K9 SAR operation.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Just so as we’re clear, you’re not the boss of me.”
She laughed. “Oh no, buddy, I’m just trying to keep you out of trouble.”
His laugh was low, warm. “Right.” He glanced toward her house, where the daisy light glowed in welcome. Yes, she’d turned it on. Probably would always keep it burning.
“So . . . Orlando could use a walk.”
“Oh yeah?” But she laughed as he took her hand.
The snow crunched under their boots as they crossed the space between houses, Orlando trotting ahead, alert even in the peaceful night. Her daisy light cast a warm circle on the fresh powder, and the northern lights painted everything in ethereal colors.
“Gabe wants to be a K9 handler,” he told her, climbing the porch steps. “I told him I’d be happy to work with him.”
“Really?”
“Fresh starts for everyone.” He walked into the house.
Then he headed to the closet and opened it.
Emerged with a sleeping bag roll and the metal box.
“What are—”
“Follow me.”
He led her out to the porch, where the snow sat on the Adirondack chairs. He scraped one off and unrolled the sleeping bag on it.
“Only one?”
“Yep,” he said. He held out his hand. “C’mere.”
She took it and he pulled her to the edge of the deck. Held out the metal box.
“I don’t know who’s in here.”
“Whoever it is, they need to be set free.” He gave her a grim smile. “Time to let the past go.”
She nodded.
Then she took the box and opened it. “Whoever you are, I hope you lived a happy life. And I hope that you’re in heaven.”
Then she shook it out into the night wind.
“Sorta sad, not having anyone to mourn them.”
Jericho took the box from her. Closed it. Then took her hand. “We will.”
Then he stared up at the sky, closed his eyes.
She stood next to him, did the same. The wind sang in the trees around them, the pine scent of the forest thickening.
Thank you, God, for mercy. For second chances.
For bringing us home.
Jericho finally turned her. Then, just like that, he scooped her up.
“What?”
“Just go with it, HT.”
He walked over to the chair and sat in the open sleeping bag, settled her on his lap.
Then he zipped them both up inside.
“I’ve always wanted to do this,” he said, “but I thought I’d get into too much trouble.”
His chest was warm as she leaned into him, his arms secure around her waist. “Well, my dad was a cop.”
“Yes. Yes he was.”
Orlando flopped at their feet with a contented huff. Above them, the lights shimmered like curtains in the wind, stars piercing through the darkness. In the distance, the lights from the Bowie house sparkled.
And here in this moment, she felt her father’s words again. “I’m proud of you.”
Her throat tightened as she settled into Jericho’s embrace. You’d be proud of Jericho too, Dad.
A heat flooded through her, peace maybe. Or hope. She wove her fingers through Jericho’s.
“Is that your way of saying you plan on getting into trouble with me?” she said softly.
His laugh rumbled against her back. “Sweetheart, that’s the story of my life.”
“Aw, you like it.”
His arms tightened slightly. “Maybe I just can’t get enough of the view.”
She tilted her head back, caught the heat in his eyes. “The northern lights are pretty spectacular.”
“Yeah, I wasn’t talking about the sky.”
Orlando’s tail thumped against the deck.
“You know,” Jericho said, “for a couple people who track down trouble for a living, it sure took us a long time to get here.”
“Here? On your lap in the freezing cold?”
“Here. As in home.” He turned her chin gently, and her breath caught at his expression, as his eyes roamed her face, then settled on her lips. “With me.”
The kiss was soft at first, then deeper, full of promises and possibilities. Of things worth staying for. Worth fighting for.
When he drew away, the lights were still dancing overhead, and Orlando had moved closer, his head resting against their legs.
“You know what this means?” Jericho murmured against her hair.
“That I’m in trouble?”
His smile curved against her temple. “Oh yeah. The best kind.” He paused. “I can smell it.”
She laughed, the sound carrying across the snow-covered yard, up to the star-filled sky. Because maybe that’s what home was—finding the person who made trouble feel like belonging. Like forever.
“So, what’s next, JB?” she asked quietly.
“Next . . . we figure it out. Together.”
Yes. Yes they would. Because that’s what you did when God gave you a second chance. When he led you through the dark to find what you thought was lost.
You held on with both hands.
And never let go.