One Bossy Disaster: An Enemies to Lovers Romance (Bossy Seattle Suits)
One Bossy Disaster: Chapter 23

The night is long and frigid and miserable as hell.

Yeah, the worst is over with the storm passing, but it’s no cakewalk as we struggle with the comms, checking our phones every few minutes for signals, holding our breath to see if another ship ever shows up to help.

I leave Dess to comfort Molly while Juan and I take turns manhandling the manual controls.

That was too fucking close.

Every time I close my eyes, I still see her being dragged out of that open door.

Almost gone forever.

And I know for certain what would’ve happened if I’d lost her.

I thought I knew before, but the fear that filled me then, the absolute terror of thinking I was watching her die, confirmed everything.

When the morning light breaks, everyone is exhausted from nothing but brief naps, yawning and rubbing bleary eyes.

We float into the sparkling sunrise, barely alive to tell the tale.

But we are alive.

Despite the odds, we made it.

Destiny unhooks her arms from the sleeping husky in her lap. Her eyes are wide and tired and she looks stiff, her wet clothes mostly dried into a clammy dampness if they’re anything like mine.

Yeah, fuck.

One glance from her is all it takes.

I can’t go on pretending this is something I can just quit the second we’re on land.

Her gaze drifts from me to the window and she smiles.

There’s a magnificent sunrise inching over the horizon.

Beautiful, sure, but after today, the sea will never hold the same magic for me that it used to.

“Any idea where we are?” she asks roughly.

We haven’t spoken for hours, too drained and distracted, running on pure instinct.

As the storm faded and we drifted through the night, we had to keep working.

Juan glances between us and excuses himself, eager to check in with his crew.

We haven’t seen Peter for over an hour, and with George laid up in sick bay, I hope they’re both okay, along with the other guys.

But Dess is still here, staring, waiting for my answer.

“I don’t know,” I tell her, wishing I had a better one to give. “No land in sight. We really need GPS to have any clue.”

She nods glumly and slumps back in her seat.

Bruises bloom across her arms and there’s a big one on her cheek, no doubt from the sea flinging her around like a doll.

I’m aching, too. Battered. Hurt all over.

But I can’t feel my own pain whenever I look at her.

There’s just this soaring relief that she’s alive, and fury at the soon-to-be destroyed motherfuckers who tried to kill her with their games.

“Sorry, Mol,” she says, unfastening the dog’s leash.

Molly sits up and yawns, wagging her tail like it’s just another morning. Or maybe the husky knows how close we came to never seeing another sunrise again.

Fuck, I almost watched them die.

I thought if I survived this, I’d have to go about life knowing she wasn’t in it, and the thought slayed me.

Now, I know.

I’m certain I’d rather die a thousand times than risk anything like that again, and she needs to know it.

“Destiny.”

Her head jerks up and her eyes find mine. Her lips are swollen from the salt.

“Shepherd.”

I take her hand and pull her up.

Instead of pulling away like I expect, she clings to me, her palms skimming over my arms, my chest, my back.

She’s checking to see if I’m all right, or maybe if I’m real flesh instead of a hallucination.

“Hey, hey.” I cup her face in my hands, marveling at how beautiful her eyes are in the dawn.

That green I haven’t seen in ages is back, shining through the blue.

Barely two months.

That’s how long we’ve known each other.

Does it matter?

Fuck no.

In that short time, she’s hooked her way under my skin and in my heart and there’s nothing I can do about it except man the fuck up and accept it.

You don’t keep playing games after staring the reaper dead in the face.

And I try, even as she’s swiping at her eyes.

“Sweetheart, don’t cry.”

She shakes her head. “Don’t. Don’t call me sweetheart unless…”

“Destiny—”

“I remember what you said, Shepherd. When the storm hit, I get it, that was the least of our worries. But now that it’s over… I can’t. I can’t be nothing to you.”

“I know. Fuck, you’ll never know how much I understand.”

“Then what am I?” She looks up at me, tears dousing the sparkle in her eyes. “Before all this happened, you told me you wanted me to leave Home Shepherd. You thought we should never see each other again. What changed?”

I hesitate, but I can’t hold back the growl boiling up my throat.

“Almost losing you.” I drop my forehead against hers. “Destiny, goddammit. I almost watched you slide out that door. It fucking murdered me.”

Now, I’m the asshole who’s trembling in her arms.

She steps back, searching my eyes, still in my embrace. Just far enough away so she can see my face.

So she can read the emotion there, the sincerity.

Can’t she see I’m offering her all of me?

Everything.

Because that’s all she’ll be to me.

It’s too late to go back now and carry on with denials. This lie that we could ever walk away, that what we have needs a time limit because we’re too wrong for each other.

I’m officially done trying to bullshit myself into believing it.

“I love you,” I say. Full stop. “Dess, I fell so damn hard, so fast. When I think about how quick it’s been, I still don’t understand it. I never will, and I’m okay with that. No one’s done what you did to me, woman. I’d rather drown forever than ever let you go.”

“Don’t say it unless you mean it.”

“I mean it, sweetheart. Just didn’t want to accept it before.”

“Shepherd.” She takes a shaking breath and a tear tracks down her face.

I brush it away, hating myself for being the reason behind it.

I never want her to cry again. Especially not because of me.

“This is real,” I tell her. “I can’t go another minute without telling you.”

Her eyes glisten and her lips quiver.

“I never should have thought about letting you go in the first place. Never should have thought it’d protect you.” It’s pouring out like venom from a wound. The most honest words I’ve ever spoken, wrenched from my chest. “The best way for me to protect you was always to stay with you. I know that now.”

If I let her go, there’s always another door, another flood that might take her away even if it’s not literal.

How could I let that happen after this?

If she’ll have me, I’ll make sure nothing ever harms her again.

And I’m going to bring the full weight of justice down on Adriana Cerva until she’s flatter than a crêpe.

If she’d only fucked with me, that would be one thing. She isn’t the first and she won’t be the last.

But she dragged Destiny into this, and if it wasn’t for me, she’d be dead.

If it wasn’t for me, she wouldn’t have stepped on this damn boat to begin with, and none of this would have happened.

Now, I know there’s no safer place for her than right by my side, where I can protect her.

“I don’t need an answer now. You’ve been through a hell of a lot,” I say, touching her face. “Still. I had to tell you right the fuck now.”

“O-okay.” The beginnings of a smile touch her face.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” she repeats, leaning up to kiss me.

It’s all I need.

Her lips taste like salt, tangy and wild. At first, her mouth is gentle, asking a question I can only answer with assurances.

Yes.

Yes.

Fucking hell, yes.

The kiss changes, charged with energy that crackles across our skin. I put everything I can’t say into the kiss, telling her how glad I am that she’s alive.

How much I want her.

How much I need her.

This is only the kind of kiss you get after a near-death experience.

It’s electric, heart-torn, messy and biting and hands down, the best ever.

Her lips take my entire soul.

When I break away to breathe again, I’m actually dizzy.

Too spent and exhausted for words.

There’s just Destiny Lancaster and her arms, her small hands on my face, her mouth on mine.

We both gasp for air at the same time, and I still want to kiss her again.

Again.

I’m a shameless addict.

A convert to her love.

I’ll worship her for the rest of her life, if I can be a part of it.

And I know—I know what this means. This feeling, so vast and intense, tears me apart.

Her hands are in my hair. My hands are on her waist, her back.

Yeah, I’ll never recover from this.

I might spend the rest of my life craving her, and I don’t even care.

I’d keep kissing her until one of us passes out, too, if it isn’t for the interruption.

Radio static.

The Coast Guard.

Canadian Coast Guard.

I lunge for it. “This is Shepherd Foster, owner of this vessel. Can you see us on radar? What’s our location? Over.”

There’s a rustle, maybe the sound of surprise and the man speaks again, giving us the exact location. We’ve drifted so far we’re just off the coast of British Columbia, not in US waters anymore.

I take a second to look out the salt-splattered windows.

There’s nothing to see but water and a small fishing vessel to our right, just a dot on the horizon.

Destiny has her hand over her mouth, just as shocked as I am.

“We’re stranded. Our ship was damaged from the storm,” I say, keeping my eyes on her. I never want to stop looking at her now. “How soon can you assist? Over.”

“Affirmative,” a voice comes back. “Stay put and we’ll send someone out for you as soon as possible. Over.”

Help is on its way.

Fucking finally.

I hold out my hand to Destiny as she presses against me, her body so warm.

I rest my chin against her.

Molly, just as exhausted, snuggles against our legs.

Dess laughs, light and free as I kiss her head.

When Molly stands up and mushes her leathery nose against my cheek, I kiss her, too.

The relief is too real, humming in my veins like blood after a hard run.

We’re alive.

We’re together.

We have time.

Mostly, we have a chance to sort out what the hell we’re truly meant to be.

It takes the better part of the day to get us back to Seattle, and it’s evening by the time the plane from Vancouver lands.

I take Destiny and Molly back to my place without asking.

No discussion, no argument, no emotional firestorm over what this means. We’re all just too soul-drained to care.

We fall down in my bed together the instant we’re through the door.

My gut rolls with phantom motion, still feeling like we’re trapped in that storm.

Dess has the same far-off look in her eyes.

I run my fingers through her hair, and she digs hers under the hem of my t-shirt so we’re skin to skin. We allow ourselves this bliss, this peace, for what feels like hours and it’s still not nearly long enough.

Molly sleeps in a grumbling heap of long legs and fur at the end of the bed.

Goddamn.

I never thought I’d have them here again—especially not like this—but I couldn’t bear it if she left me now.

“What do we do next?” she whispers in the darkness.

“We belt Adriana with everything we’ve got. One good sleep and I’ll be ready,” I tell her.

We sleep with that thought hanging over us, my legal machinery already moving in the background.

The lawyers will go to war without me lifting a finger, but it doesn’t feel like enough.

Leaving a woman who tried to murder us to a mundane arrest warrant and years behind bars doesn’t begin to touch the hell she put us through.

Of course, I don’t want an open confrontation. Not until I’m positive Dess has fully recovered from her ordeal.

It’s two more slow days staying in, making phone calls, and listening to the softly pattering rain like whispers from another world before we talk through our decision.

We set off in the morning and arrive at Adriana Cerva’s townhome just outside Medina.

It’s the typical plush, upper middle crust sort of dwelling you’d expect. A fitting space for someone who’s done well, but never well enough when there’s an endless appetite for Chanel and Prada and regular trips to warm beaches.

No doubt it’s all from her daughter’s mudslinging, and it’s predictably tacky as hell. Her entire moral compass is based on its price tag, and I imagine it extends to her daughter, too.

Meghan is only valuable as long as she makes money for mama—and lots of it.

Fuck, if only I’d noticed how off things felt at the restaurant.

There’s so much I should have done differently.

Still, the stakes are too high today to dwell on the past.

Destiny slips her arm through mine.

We’ve had a few difficult conversations, but they’ve all revolved around the immediate future. What’s going to happen with Adriana, how we’ll prevent my attorneys from having cardiac arrest when they find out what we’re doing, what we’ll tell the cops.

Honestly, I’m giving fewer fucks about Adriana’s fate by the minute. I can’t wait until this is over so we can talk about the future.

“Ready?” she asks in the back of the limo.

“It’s all I’ve thought about since we came home,” I say, helping her out of the vehicle.

Except the knowing look we share says that isn’t true.

Destiny has taken up infinitely more real estate in my mind than revenge, no matter how well deserved.

We thought about calling ahead, but the last thing we wanted was to give her a chance to prepare, let alone run.

Destiny also talked me into letting her come along for the ride. If I’d had my way, she’d never go near the woman again, but she insisted this was the only way to do it our way, and not just mine.

A few more steps, and here we are.

Dess reaches into her coat pocket and pulls out her phone to reassure herself it’s there while I rap on the door.

When Adriana opens it, her mouth pops open with a wet smacking sound.

She’s wearing purple blush lipstick and a black blouse that’s unbuttoned just enough to show a little overtanned cleavage.

Got to keep up appearances, I suppose, even in the privacy of her own home.

The color drains from her face and she moves to block the doorway.

“Oh, no. Foster, I—”

She never finishes before I storm into a picture-perfect living room that looks like a model showroom, spotless and modern.

“I didn’t say you could come in! What do you think you’re doing?” She spits, finally recovering enough to yell at us as we head for the open kitchen.

She follows, her heels clopping against the polished wood. Her hand strays to her phone.

“Leave now or I’m calling the police. I didn’t invite you in.”

“Call them anytime. The conversation should be riveting.” I throw her my coldest stare.

Her face clouds with uncertainty, and she’s too paralyzed to move.

I give her a tight smile, mindful of the woman on my arm.

For Destiny’s sake, I promised I wouldn’t lose my temper. It takes searching every molecule I am to stay indifferent.

“Why are you here?” Adriana huffs out.

“I thought about coming in a sheet. I figured we could show up as ghosts,” I say slowly. “However, since you never got the news you were hoping for about a sunken yacht tragedy, it wouldn’t have the same effect.”

“Sunken yach—oh. Oh, no. You’re being ridiculous,” she says weakly, her face rippling with shock.

Destiny tilts her head as I cast her a long look.

What’s next is all hers.

And hell, I’m not going to stop her. She deserves her moment in the sun.

“Adriana,” she says, and the other woman stops glaring at me just long enough to look at her. “You must have been so scared when you got the news. I’m sure you’ve been expecting cops any day.”

Adriana cranes her head like a snake, fighting back her nerves.

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t have time for games,” she says stiffly.

“Oh, really? That’s funny. I have to make time for a new game every night, where I hold my dog when she wakes up howling, traumatized from almost being drowned.” Destiny frees her hand from my arm and stalks over to the large table, trailing her nails along the black metal and glass.

I’d bet anything it isn’t used for eating. Just business plans and posing Meghan like a doll for pretty pictures.

My anger returns, thinking about Molly, though I keep it in check.

The husky started howling twice a night the next day after we got home. Her vet tech friend thinks it’s a sort of PTSD, and we’re doing everything we can to help.

I was up with Dess at three o’clock, walking Molly outside for a quick game of tug and a frozen banana ball in the moonlight, before we helped her back into bed and waited for her to fall asleep under a blanket.

Personally, I’m only offended by almost dying.

But the fact that the world-class bitch staring at us tried to send Dess and Molly to an icy unmarked grave…

I take the seat opposite her, gesturing for Adriana to sit down before I say, “Cutting the fuel line. That was fucking low, especially for someone like you. Couldn’t you have at least had the dignity to put a little poison in our dinner?”

Adriana’s chest heaves. She shakes her head violently.

“No, no, you’ve got it all wrong. Jesus, I—”

“Yep. No class whatsoever. Where’d you find the guy who slashed the fuel line, I wonder? Was he sleeping in the dumpster behind your favorite dive?” Destiny’s gaze cuts up and down Adriana’s figure with sweeping derision.

The older woman regains her composure, just enough to flash us a sickening smile. “What would someone like you know about class anyway?”

“Have you met Cole Lancaster?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. “I had the pleasure the other day. We had words. More importantly, he doesn’t take too kindly to anyone who tries to murder his daughter with a technique right out of a cheap slasher film.”

“Oh, yes,” she flings back. “I’m sure he’s thrilled at what his daughter’s been up to.”

Destiny doesn’t flinch.

“He called me on the ship. Dad wanted to know what was going on, but I told him we were fine, in case you were wondering. I’m not the kind of girl who runs off asking my parents to bail me out. I like to take matters into my own hands.”

Shit, she’s on fire.

I don’t need to add anything.

I barely knew about the call home she had on the boat.

That’s not going to be a comfortable conversation when we get down to it, after all of this is over.

Cole Lancaster threatened to tear my throat out with his bare teeth twice, and I don’t blame him. I’d like to think the fact that I brought Destiny home in one piece won me some reprieve.

Mr. Lancaster is famous for his temper, and right now, I’m second place in the firing line.

I’ll worry about the fireworks with him later.

Still facing Adriana, Destiny doesn’t back down. Her blue eyes are sharper than swords. There’s no green in them, no softness with her today.

She’s thinking about Molly.

A part of me enjoys seeing her righteous anger unleashed. She’s a little cherry bomb, deceptively small and bright yet so deadly.

Is it wrong to say it turns me on?

“You know what the worst part is?” Dess asks. “If you hadn’t cut corners using a desperate kid from the docks and you’d found someone who was just a teensy weensy bit more careful at covering his tracks, we might have never known. You might’ve been able to claim it was all a freak accident,” Destiny says. “Oh, but then there’s Meghan.”

Adriana’s brows rise, waiting.

“Your lovely daughter sent me a message just before we boarded the yacht, telling me not to. Weird how she knew our plans. Even weirder that she told me not to go with Shepherd right before we got into a really ugly storm…”

Adriana scowls.

She backs up a step like Dess just slapped her across the face.

“What do you want?” she snaps. “If it’s a retraction, fine. I’m convinced. I’ll have Meghan work night and day to scrub away every trace of your little scandal. I’ll… I’ll even pay damages. A reasonable sum we can agree on, I’m sure.”

Poor, devious little witch.

It should be more enjoyable, watching her squirm as it sinks in just how fucked she is.

I’ve met people like Adriana Cerva before. They were as common as crows in Uncle Aidan’s world. Cold-blooded, ruthless, dangerous when cornered, always willing to draw blood to shut you up.

Only, unlike my uncle’s soldiers, I’m positive she didn’t think far enough through the consequences of her actions.

That’s natural when you’ve never had to face any karma before. Until now, she’s gotten away with all the shit she’s pulled.

She still thinks she can bargain her way out of this.

Best of all, she still thinks it’s about fucking money.

I touch Destiny’s leg under the table, just to reassure her.

Let’s bring this home.

Together.

Her foot nudges mine, and I keep my face expressionless as I stare at Adriana.

Her throat works, but she can’t quite clear it.

Her voice comes out gravelly and broken when she says “Jesus, what do you people want? Tell me!”

“Confess,” I bite off like a gunshot.

Again, she shakes her head like it’s falling off, unable to even process what I’m asking.

“Confess what? I didn’t do anything!” she snarls.

“Meghan sent me a message,” Destiny tells her. “The kid you hired to cut the fuel line confessed everything yesterday. We know he came aboard to load food and beverages. We already have the written statement, so you can quit pretending.”

Adriana breathes raggedly through her nose. “That… that doesn’t prove anything.”

Why do they always do this? Deny?

She’s cracking up like a thawing lake.

I can see the fear snapping in her eyes, the panicked way she looks around the room like she’s searching for an escape.

Destiny senses it, too, as she grabs her phone and sets it neatly on the table, tapping at the screen to open the recording app.

“A verbal confession. That’s all we’re looking for, Adriana,” she tells her. “Let it go easy and we’ll get right out of your hair.”

Adriana’s face twists like she’s possessed.

I stiffen in my chair, ready to throw Destiny out of harm’s way the second Miss Cerva looks like she’s about to go full stupid.

The woman takes a deep breath and steps forward, her eyes glinting as she looks over her shoulder at a rack of knives.

Just then, the door flies open.

What fucking timing.

Meghan Cerva stands there with her red hair gnarled, dressed in a threadbare pajama top and shorts that expose her midriff, looking younger and more bird-thin than ever.

Her eyes, the same color as her mom’s, are even wilder.

They’re haloed by red, deeply etched tear tracks.

Dess pushes her chair back as Meghan glares at us, right before her gaze falls on her mother.

“Mom, stop. Stop lying!” Her voice breaks on the force of that word. “Tell them. Just fucking admit it. They have everything and even if they don’t, I’ll… I’ll give them the rest if you won’t. I hate that I ever went along with it, but it’s over. You’re done now.”

“Meghan, Meghan, you’re still sick, aren’t you?” Adriana’s harsh laugh sounds like it scrapes through a cheese grater. “Go back to your room.”

“Not this time, Mom.” Meghan shakes her head, splattering tears on the floor.

When Destiny approaches her, she backs away, throwing her hands out, her eyes still leveled on her mother.

“You’re going to listen to what I’ve got to say for once. You tried to kill them.”

Adriana storms toward Meghan so forcefully I’m under a second away from throwing myself between them.

“You’re such a little mess when you’re off your meds, dear. Go back to bed. This doesn’t involve you.” Adriana flattens her hand against her daughter’s forehead like she’s feeling for a fever.

Meghan swats her hand away.

“Shut up. Shut. Up! I know what you did and you—you can’t lie to me again. There’s no way out of this.” Meghan turns to Dess, who’s standing right behind her, so much sorrow in her eyes. “Mom engineered the whole campaign. She was livid when I got passed up for Young Influencers, and she launched this gross pressure scheme. She coached every video. She wrote the scripts. But I did her bidding and I feel so much ick. I can’t do it anymore. I won’t. If they want a statement, they’ve got mine.”

“Ignore her!” Adriana screeches, pulling at her bleached hair.

Goddamn, what a mess.

I grab my phone and punch a single contact covertly under the table, still ready to step in at a moment’s notice if this boils over.

“When that guy she got to steal the drone blew it, she panicked. She sabotaged the boat to cover her tracks. I swear, I didn’t know she planned anything that awful. Whatever she had coming, I knew it wasn’t good, but oh my God…”

Meghan almost doubles over now with grief, reaching for Destiny.

Like the perfect angel, Dess takes her hands, holding her up.

“There’s plenty of time to sort this out, Meghan. Don’t worry. It’s okay, it’s okay…”

“Get away from my daughter now,” Adriana whispers, contorting into the perfect narcissist.

I only have a split second before she launches herself at them.

Fuck, she’s unhinged, her hair whipping around her face.

I push back from the table, roaring Destiny’s name.

She twists her head, sees Adriana moving, and spreads herself protectively in front of Meghan.

The girl is in pieces, screaming and sobbing incoherently.

I knew there was a real chance this could be a total shit show, but I never imagined this.

It’s like time slows, and my brain does the math.

It knows before I do that I’m not going to beat the rampaging demon.

Not before Adriana grabs Destiny by the hair, tearing her away from Meghan. Her other hand crashes down in a slap that echoes.

That fucking does it.

I’m human lightning, bolting in, crashing into Adriana so hard she spins across the room.

After today, I’d like to think she’ll eventually thank her lucky stars that I don’t pick her up again and chuck her across the room like a piece of rotten driftwood.

Meghan screams, covering her cheek. It’s already red, the fingermarks distinct even in the scuffle.

Adriana struggles as I twist her arm behind her back, pushing until it hurts.

It’s like holding a rabid fisher-cat.

“Dess,” I say urgently. “Sweetheart, are you all right?”

Adriana’s laugh is high and half-insane. “Sweetheart? I fucking knew it.”

I ignore her shit.

“I’m fine,” Destiny says quietly, freeing herself.

My attention shifts to the swaying lunatic in my arms.

“You just had to add assault and battery to your charges, didn’t you?” I tell her.

Just in time.

Thankfully, I don’t have to bother figuring out how to secure her when the door bursts open and Seattle police start piling in. My call worked.

Ideally, I wanted the confession first, though we guessed we had a fifty-fifty chance at best of her caving.

We didn’t expect this fray.

Not that it matters.

After today, we have everything we need to make sure Adriana Cerva enjoys a nice long stay behind bars.

I release Adriana as soon as the cops surround us.

She points at me, her mouth twisted, living proof that some people just don’t know when to shut it. “He assaulted me! Attacking me and my daughter…”

Meghan jumps up and goes into a flurry of denial, giving them a quick, messy version of everything that happened.

With Adriana cornered, we can finally breathe again.

“I think that’s a wrap,” Dess says happily, making a face as she fingers a few torn ends of her hair.

A detective with a craggy face nods at me, then gestures at Adriana. The two cops accompanying him pin her arms behind her back.

“You have the right to remain silent,” he begins, rattling off her Miranda rights. “Anything you say can be used against you in a court of law…”

“I didn’t do it!” Adriana shrieks again as they try to pull her. The woman’s voice could shatter glass. “I’m being framed. It wasn’t me, I swear, I never did anything. Help me, help!”

Stoically, the cop continues reading her rights before dragging her away.

A female officer remains with Meghan, kneeling beside her. She declines a check from EMTs, but they’ll need to get that cheek photographed.

I wish I could say it’s a happy ending, nice and neat.

For Meghan Cerva, it’s only the beginning.

She’ll need a lot of help, gobs of soul-searching, and a metric fuckton of therapy to rebuild her life.

Still, with her mother out of the picture, she’s finally free.

Destiny moves closer, and I wrap my arms around her out of habit.

“Will she be okay? Is there anything we can do?” she murmurs, looking at Meghan. Her sobs have finally quieted.

“I think so. We’ll let her tell the cops if she has any friends or family she can stay with. If she doesn’t, I’ll put her up somewhere safe.”

“God, Shepherd.” Dess shudders against me and I hold her tighter. “Even after all the horrible crap, I didn’t think she’d go psycho on her own daughter.”

“She tried to kill us over a damn contest gone bad,” I remind her. “Psycho is an understatement.”

“But the storm was kind of dumb luck. Do you really think she meant to kill us or just send a message?”

I smile because we’ve gone back and forth over the same question for days.

That’s my Dess, always thoughtful, even when some wackjob tries to off us.

“She certainly wouldn’t have minded if we never made it home.” I pause, lowering my voice so Meghan doesn’t hear. “Frankly, I don’t think she gave a fuck what happened as long as we were out of the way.”

When she looks up at me, there’s a gleam of pity in her eyes.

“I can’t believe I just thought Meghan was snarky and obnoxious all these years. Her own mother… Poor thing.”

I hold Dess closer as we watch an officer escort Meghan out of the apartment.

She’s so quiet now, but with the glossy, hurt eyes of someone who hasn’t processed their life changing in an instant.

“Here,” Destiny says, handing another officer her phone. He bags it and thanks her, telling her he’ll get it back to her as soon as possible.

We travel to the police station to give our statements, and then we’re free to go.

Adriana Cerva now faces a litany of charges ranging from assault, extortion, criminal stalking, attempted homicide, high seas terrorism, and intent to commit fraud.

As for Meghan, I already know Dess will be a friend wherever she can.

When we get back to my place—no question asked, we came back here—she looks at me. It feels like I haven’t slept in weeks.

After Molly comes flying over and we make it through a hundred mandatory licks and paw prints, we settle in on the sofa.

“So, now that that’s over.” The sound of her uncertainty lingers in the air.

I know the feeling.

Our future is still written on blown glass, and if we’re not careful, we could shatter it, but I want that future more than anything.

“It’s over,” I repeat, pulling her into my arms.

I kiss her nose first, memorizing every single one of her freckles that make her uniquely Destiny.

To hell with the age gap, she’s so young and fresh and light.

To think she’d even want to be with a man like me feels like living a miracle.

And if I’m lucky, I’ll worship that miracle every day she allows it.

“It doesn’t seem real. None of it.” She looks up at me. Blue-green eyes, that perfect shade of ocean glass. Freckles. Full lips. Gold hair. I could look at her face forever. “But what do we do now?”

“The future, Miss Destiny.”

“Together?”

“Is there any other way?” I’m screwing with her, but I hide the nerves behind my question.

The tiniest hint of a smile curls the corner of her mouth. “After everything we went through… yes, Shepherd. I think we’d better do the rest together.”

I grin like a deranged fool.

“There’s something I need to tell you. I meant to find the perfect place—actually, I haven’t known you long enough to plan it properly, and I want to do right by you, but…”

Fucking hell.

Why am I tripping over my own words?

There’s nothing as right as having her in my arms.

“I know.” She smiles and leans up to kiss me.

The feel of her lips on mine is an explosion, glowing with pure bliss.

“I love you, Destiny Lancaster. You’ve heard it before, but it’s important I say it when we’re alive and well,” I say against her mouth. “Love you, woman. So much I can’t remember life before I did.”

“I know, I know,” she whispers sweetly, pulling back to give me a teasing grin and eyes shining with relief.

Yeah, fuck me, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for this woman.

No pain too great.

No burden too heavy.

No mountain unturned.

It’s not just her body or her mind.

She’s more than walking sunshine and a giving soul.

Like me, she’s suffered, and she knows what to do with it. She’ll feed that energy into fixing the world, and she has the passion to do it, too.

I just want to be by her side while her dreams come true, piece by blazing piece.

Maybe, in time, those dreams will merge with mine.

Her lids lower as she watches me.

Sexy, yes, but so intense it burns me to my core.

My heart doesn’t know what to do with this look.

I just know I feel every booming thud bone-deep every second she looks at me.

Hot intent scorches her eyes, dousing me in flames.

I’ve never doubted her, even when I had my head stuffed up my own ass, thinking she was too young and pure.

Now I know better.

Before she says the words, I know.

“I love you, too,” she tells me. The best fucking words I’ve ever heard, whispered in a voice like music. “So much it hurts.”

“It won’t hurt anymore, sweetheart. Never again.”

Her smile is so beautiful it almost breaks me as I stroke her hair.

Honest to God, I’m floating and I don’t care.

That’s what falling does.

Especially when love takes you down so hard you can’t tell where the sky meets the ground anymore.

We’ve been through so much in one summer.

I reacted like I was allergic to her very presence, attacked her like a creature of pure lust, learned to appreciate her quirky names for cars and otter obsessions, and almost watched her die.

She’s scared me shitless many times.

And yet, this moment right here, this is what kills me.

It doesn’t feel real.

Like any second, some catastrophe might come along and steal her away.

I’m not taking any chances.

I’m making her mine, here and now.

Day one of eternity where I hang up my life as a corporate monk and make time for a new life with her.

“You know I can’t promise what’s going to happen from here,” I say slowly. “But I’m going to do my damnedest to protect you. Don’t care if that means tromping around in the rain after otters or digging a foxhole while your old man tries to blow my head off. I promise you’ll always have all of me, Dess.”

“Shepherd… are you trying to kill me today?” Her voice cracks.

“No. I’m trying to find a way to make it work. It’s all I’ll ever ask for.”

Her hands skim my face, touching my scar.

She feels it sometimes. Kisses it, too.

She just has this way of looking at me like I’m flawless, just as untouched by violence and bad decisions as her, even when I know she’s what holds me together.

I’m a rusty fucking hammer in a princess’ hand, and I love it.

I love her.

So fully and completely and overwhelmingly it’s blinding.

“You’re stuck with me now, so we’d better make it work,” she tells me.

Damn her, I laugh.

That’s my Dess, all sweetness and spice.

I love the little slice of crazy she is, even if I wonder if I’ll ever get used to the weight of those words.

I definitely won’t get used to hearing her say them back.

With too much said and not enough kisses, I shove her fingers through mine and we head upstairs to the bedroom.

Molly twirls around in giddy circles around us before she settles on her dog bed in the corner.

The future I never imagined has only begun.

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