Chapter 42
FORTY-TWO
brOOKS
“Oh fuck,” I whisper, hauling Briar against my chest and holding her tight. “Oh fuck.”
“I’m okay,” she whispers back.
There’s chaos all around us—Pascal and his team bustling around the apartment, clearing every room, searching for any surveillance equipment that may have been left behind.
Angela Rosseau.
With a fucking gun.
Angela. I should have registered the name when Briar mentioned it months ago, should have realized it was Jean-Michel’s ex and Chrissy’s mother behind all this shit…or at least mixed up in it.
But I had been far more focused on all Briar went through and bridging the gulf between us.
And now Angela had pointed a gun at the woman I loved.
“She wasn’t going to hurt me,” Briar says when I just haul her closer and try to breathe through the panic still coursing through my body.
The door is fucked and we’ll have to find somewhere else to stay for tonight.
“I know you want to believe that, but she’s insane—Attie was shot and Chrissy was almost kidnapped and River was taken, and that was all because of her. And she pulled a fucking gun on you, baby.”
Briar sighs and snuggles closer. “I know.”
I wrap my arms tighter, ignoring the pain radiating down from my shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” she says. “I was dumb. I was thinking about River and opened the door without checking who was on the other side.”
“It’s been a scary day.”
“But even if I checked, I think…”
“What?”
“I think I probably would have still let her in.”
“Briar,” I say, releasing her and leaning back enough to see her face.
Her eyes are earnest and the set of her jaw warns me to brace.
“I know what she put Jean-Michel, Chrissy, and Attie through and I hate that they had to deal with it. I also know the people she keeps company with and how bad they are.” Her hand finds mine and squeezes.
“But I also witnessed the violence she endured, saw the bruise on her face tonight, the way she moved like she was in pain. Whatever her part in all of this is, I don’t think it’s as straightforward as you all think. ”
I smooth back her hair, know that she’s right.
As much as I hate it.
Angela protected Chrissy when she was almost taken.
Marie is convinced that she stopped her from getting hit by a car.
And Briar…well, what Briar went through was hell, but it does seem like Angela buffered her from some of the worst of it.
“I’m not saying she’s all good, but I do know that she helped me, helped us find our way back to each other, and”—she snags the envelope off the island, hands it to me—“if this really does have something on it that will protect us, then she’s helped us again.
So…can we just maybe reserve judgment until we know more? ”
“Yeah, Raindrop, we can do that.”
Her face goes soft and she shifts closer, wrapping her arms around me. “Thank you,” she whispers.
We stay like that—bodies pressed together and standing in the kitchen, waiting for Pascal and his team to search through and clear the rest of the apartment. Aside from passing off the envelope, we’re quiet, and I, for one, am just reveling in the fact that everyone is safe.
And that this shit might finally be done.
“Is River still coming here?” she asks as the activity begins to wane.
“No,” I say, forcing myself to release her. I stride over to the closet, pulling out a broom and dustpan so I can clean up the remains of the chair. “Thorn took her home.”
Her lips twitch.
And for the first time in hours, mine do too.
“It’s about time he got his head out of his ass,” she says.
“I know,” I agree. “Though, almost losing a good woman will do that to a man.”
She catches my hand, fingers squeezing mine tight. “Thank you,” she whispers.
“For what?”
“For fighting for us. For loving me.” A sigh, her head resting against my arm. “For just being here.”
My heart rolls over in my chest, exposing its vulnerable underbelly.
But I know, without a doubt, this woman will protect it, cherish it, fight for it right back.
“Always,” I rasp.
Then, as one, we move to the door and clean up the mess.
The door is fucked, the frame will need to be replaced.
But that’s a problem for another day. For tonight—
“Jean-Michel offered to let us stay at his place.”
She dumps the contents of the dustpan in the trash and looks up at me. “Is that what you want?”
“As long as we’re safe, I don’t care where we sleep.”
Pretty blue eyes hold mine, and I see the answer in those cerulean depths even before she murmurs, “Then I think it’s time for us to go home.”
“As you wish.”
Her mouth quirks. “God, I love you.”
There my heart goes again, so full of love for this woman, of pride and need, of relief that she’s safe and hope for the future we’re going to build together that I have to draw her against me and kiss her with everything I’m feeling.
It takes a while and it isn’t the right time or the right place—case in point, the wolf whistles that come from Pascal’s men as they move around the space—but I don’t care.
Because the woman I love is back in my arms.
And I’m never letting go.
Hours later, we’re back in our bedroom, the estate quiet and sprawling around us.
Exhaustion had me dropping into sleep almost the moment my head hit the pillow and my arms were back around her, and it feels like only moments later before she’s carefully shifting out of my hold.
I expect to hear her pad to the bathroom.
Instead, I hear the soft shush of the door sliding open and then closed.
Worry has me sitting up, pushing out of bed, moving to that door.
She looks over her shoulder at me as I step onto the patio, mouth curved. “Sorry if I woke you.”
I take her in my arms. “You okay?”
“Yeah. I just…it feels strange that this will all finally be over.”
For us, that is.
Angela hadn’t lied about the envelope containing information that will protect us all.
Now we just have to decide how to use it to move forward.
“I know.”
“How do I just live a normal life after all that happened?”
“You don’t,” I tell her. “You live your life.”
“No. Our life.”
I tug lightly at a strand of her hair. “Yeah, Raindrop. Our life.”
Her mouth hitches up. “How do you feel about animal rescue?”
“Considering Tulip and Buttercup are sleeping at the foot of our bed, I think it’s clear that I’m all in.”
“Cats then?”
I shrug. “Or dogs. You know Rory will demand equal representation.”
“Or,” she says, “I could do something a little different.”
“Ferret rescue?”
She giggles and lifts on tiptoe, brushing her mouth over mine. “I was thinking more like…horses.” She waves a hand toward the land, quiet and shadowed and hushed. “There’s plenty of space—” Her eyes come to mine. “Though, if you don’t want the hassle…”
“I think moving the stables to the south side of the property would be perfect, don’t you think? There’s already open space and it’s flat. Plus, it’s not too far from the main house.”
“Brooks,” she whispers.
“This is our future, Raindrop. And you’re going to have anything you want.”
“What about what you want?”
I draw her closer. “I already have it.”
There’s a sharp crack of noise and the skies seem to open up, rain pouring down, soaking us in an instant.
But we don’t rush inside, don’t run from the sudden summer rainstorm.
Instead, we both tilt our faces up to the sky…
And we laugh.
And it’s the best start to forever I can imagine.