Epilogue
ALICE
Cooper dumped me on my ass, a bright spark of glee in his ice-blue eyes.
My tailbone smacked the mat, but I wasn't even mad.
It had been too long since I'd seen him so carefree.
So happy. If it took tossing me on my butt in the sparring room to put that look on his face, he could do it all day as far as I was concerned.
Let's be honest, I never want to get in a fight again. I'm no pushover, but fisticuffs are not my thing. Even so, after everything that had happened with Lacey, Maxwell, the invasion of the Russian mob—I'd realized that Cooper's training wasn't a joke. I wanted more.
I didn't need to be on his team of scary operatives. I just wanted to know I could protect myself. Protect Petra. If anyone ever tried to put a hand on me again, I wanted to know I could put them on the ground long enough to get away.
As I’d guessed weeks before, sparring with Cooper never stayed all business. Even when we had the best of intentions, once we were sweating, his hands on me, my hands on him—things happened. Good things. Hot things. Naked things.
I wasn't complaining. For the first time in what felt like forever, life was approaching normal, and it was better than I'd ever imagined normal could be.
Lacey, after finding out Maxwell was dead, had gone completely silent for a full day before quietly asking Cooper to find her a residential treatment center. No one was expecting a miracle, but it was a start.
We were still trading off at the office, Cooper working mornings and me afternoons so Petra had time to adjust, though days like today we took advantage of her nap time and left the office to Cooper's brothers.
Axel had gone back to Las Vegas, but Evers and Knox could handle things for a while.
Lily had been coming by each day for an hour or two and Petra had taken to her right away.
She wasn’t attached to Lily the way she was to Cooper and me, but when Lily was at the door Petra ran to her, laughing, arms raised for a hug.
Soon enough she’d be ready to spend half days with Lily, then full days, and we’d transition to the next stage of normal.
The first two weeks after that awful night were anything but normal. It took a while for the FBI to finish with our place, then for the doors to be repaired. We’d spent that time as guests of Winters House.
Cooper had practically grown up in Winters House and took the move in stride. I think after losing his father it was comforting to re-live the best parts of his childhood surrounded by friends who were as close as family.
I won't deny it was pretty sweet, a lot like living in a luxury hotel except without any strangers around. Gourmet meals, housekeeping, a pool and tennis court. Sophie and Aunt Amelia taught us to play croquet. The Winters household welcomed me as if they’d known me all their lives.
Once he was released from the hospital, Griffen joined us at Winters House, though he wasn't quite a ray of sunshine. In pain, refusing to take his meds, and frustrated at the extent of the damage to the ligaments in his shoulder, he growled as often as he used to smile.
He had reason. Griffen had been lucky, considering all the ways a bullet to the shoulder could go wrong, but he’d never regain full use of his arm. If he were a normal guy, he’d never notice the lack. For someone who depended on split-second reaction times, the loss of function was devastating.
Sophie Winters—one of the kindest, most patient people I’d ever met—had offered to oversee his recovery.
Gage’s wife and Amelia Winters’ nurse, she was qualified and didn’t mind putting up with Griffen’s crankiness.
Griffen said he was sick of the hospital, sick of being treated like an invalid, but I think what he wanted most was to hole up in his house and brood. None of us were willing to let him.
Sophie kept reminding us that acting like a prickly bear was par for the course when a big strong guy had his shoulder blown open and refused to take his pain meds. We knew she was right, but it was still hard seeing the normally sunny Griffen so far off his game.
He was better now that we’d all moved home. Mostly. We all knew that unless a miracle happened, his shoulder would disqualify him from most field work. For now, everyone was tiptoeing around the topic.
Griffen’s arm was still in a sling. We had time before anything was official, but Griffen knew what was coming. I couldn’t blame him for being a miserable grouch. If it were me, I’d probably be worse.
The two weeks at Winters House were fun, but the second the FBI said we could go home, Cooper wrangled a bunch of the guys and they moved me into his place for good. Since the furniture stayed with the apartment, it took only a few hours.
Before I knew it, I was fully ensconced in Cooper's apartment, now our home, and my old place had been converted back to the secondary safe room.
Cooper had taken advantage of the re-construction of the doors to have the crew create a secret access from the back stairwell to my old apartment so that if anything ever happened again we wouldn't be stuck with the storage room as our only bolthole.
Personally, I thought it was overkill. With Tsepov out of the picture, it was unlikely we’d face another invasion, but if being overprotective helped Cooper sleep at night, I wouldn't argue.
Cooper had lost his father, had almost lost his mother.
Anything that eased him through it all was okay in my book.
It didn't take the FBI long to determine that Tsepov's remaining men had scattered to the winds, all looking for a better payday now that Tsepov was gone.
We weren't in any danger. Agent Holley had rounded up everyone he could get his hands on and was making a case against the remaining players, none of whom had the slightest interest in the Sinclairs.
In the ultimate irony, the ballistics report confirmed that while the bullets that killed Maxwell came from Tsepov’s weapon, Tsepov had been killed by his own men.
In the end, Andrei Tsepov had enough money and ego to wreak havoc in all of our lives but not enough skill to hold onto the top-notch men his uncle had commanded.
The second-rate team of goons backing him up had been a disaster and ultimately, his demise. I felt badly for Agent Holley—all that time building a case and all of his witnesses ended up dead—but the Tsepov empire was dust. This time, the good guys won.
Cooper hovered over Petra and me even more than usual those first few weeks after Maxwell and Tsepov died.
We both hovered over Petra, bizarrely relieved the first time she shoved her dinner off the high chair tray and pitched a fit, demanding cookies.
If she did that every day it would get old, but it was reassuringly normal to see a three-year-old turn up her nose at vegetables.
Petra asked for Maxwell every day. We’d followed the guidance of the company therapist and told her Maxwell was dead and she would be staying with Cooper and me. I’m not sure exactly how much she understood about Maxwell, but her eyes had lit up at the news that she was staying with us.
It was a lot of change—for all of us—but the good far outweighed the bad. The good was better than just good, it was the best. Our nap-time sparring sessions case in point.
I got to my feet on the mat, dusting off my rear end, and threw my shoulders back, lifting my chin in Cooper's direction with a cocky toss of my hair. “You're not going to do that again.”
“You want to bet, pixie?”
“I'm not a pixie,” I said without heat. I'd never admit it, but I secretly liked it when Cooper called me pixie. Next to him, I felt like a pixie.
We squared off against one another, balanced on the balls of our feet as we waited for my signal.
This time, I remembered a move he’d showed me the day before and somehow managed to execute it perfectly.
I stepped into him, pressing my knee into the side of his, gripping his forearm and counterbalancing exactly right until he fell on his back and I landed on top of him.
Straddling his waist, I shook my hands in the air, wiggling my hips and singing Another One Bites the Dust. Silly, considering it was the first time I’d taken him down, but I was celebrating anyway. Who knew when I’d manage it again? Probably never.
Cooper’s grin stretched wide, his hands closing over my hips as he flipped me on my back, settling between my thighs and rising over me. I had a feeling the sparring part of our session was over. Fine by me.
Raising my legs, I hooked my ankles behind his back and settled into the mat. I could stay like this all day, Cooper’s body covering me, damp with sweat, strong, and vital, and mine.
There was a part of me that still couldn't believe it was Cooper between my legs. Cooper looking down at me.
Cooper. I’d never imagined I could be this happy. I was holding onto it with everything I had.
Cooper's eyes were blue flame as he lowered his head, his lips brushing mine, raising to skate across my cheekbone, the hollow of my neck, butterfly kisses so light they set a fire everywhere they touched. Teasing, building the need inside me until I was squirming beneath him, my mouth seeking his.
I reached for him, letting out a growl of frustration when he caught my wrists and held them over my head, pinning me motionless beneath him.
“Cooper,” I breathed, “stop teasing.”
“Never,” he rumbled, balancing his weight on an elbow as he reached with his free hand and pulled something from his pocket. He settled himself back between my legs, his weight comfortable against me, never too heavy. Just enough that I felt connected to him, like I was exactly where I belonged.
A black velvet box loomed in front of my eyes.
He'd had that in his pocket? Sneaky, sneaky man.
I saw the box, should have known, but I still wasn't expecting it when he flipped it open and the icy fire of diamonds hit my eyes.
The ring held my gaze like a magnet.
“Are you serious?”
He pulled the ring out of the box and pressed his lips to mine in a hard kiss. “I've never been more serious, Alice. I told you, this is forever. I want to make it official. I want you to be my wife.”
“Are you sure?” I didn't really need to ask. This was Cooper. I'd stopped wondering if he meant it when he said he loved me. I knew he did, knew that this man meant what he said, and he would love me forever.
“I've been ready to make you mine for ten years, Alice. I don't want to wait any longer.”
“I don’t want to wait either, Cooper. Let’s get married.”
I held up my hand and he slid the ring on my finger.
Of course, it was a perfect fit. This was Cooper.
He knew everything about me right down to my ring size.
The ring was gorgeous, sparking fire on my finger.
Not small, but not so big it would overwhelm my pixie-sized hands. “You have good taste, Cooper Sinclair.”
“Obviously. I fell in love with you, didn’t I?”
Tears pricked my eyes. This man. How could he be so arrogant and so sweet at the same time? Because he was Cooper, and he was all mine.
“Soon, Alice,” he ordered. “No June wedding. We can do it at Thanksgiving when everyone is here.”
My family would be in Atlanta for the holiday along with his and the entire Winters clan.
Perfect.
“Whatever you want, boss,” I said, and sank my fingers into his thick, silky hair, pulling him down for a kiss.
The first kiss of the rest of our lives.
The first kiss of our forever.
Turn the page for a sneak peek of Griffen’s story, Stolen Heart!