Total pages in book: 14
Estimated words: 13384 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 67(@200wpm)___ 54(@250wpm)___ 45(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 13384 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 67(@200wpm)___ 54(@250wpm)___ 45(@300wpm)
Rad is doing bad things too … But for the right reasons.
I tell myself.
He climbs back into the car, blood-spattered. “We’re leaving. Now.”
“Who were they?” I gasp.
“Men who thought they could take what we have,” he growls. “Men who thought they could take you, angel. But that’s never happening. Never.”
He reaches over; his hand trembles. He cradles my face and talks in a husky, unflinching voice. “Most people would call us strangers. But the second I saw you—hell, just even in a damn photo—I knew you were the one for me. I knew you were my everything. Things will never be simple between us …”
“Who needs simple?” I cut in.
He smiles. It reaches his eyes, making him look almost boyish.
“Amen to that.”
Later, I sit on the back porch of our safe house in the woods. Our safe house. Drinking hot cocoa made for me by my father’s killer. The man I should hate most, in this world. He sits opposite, cleaning one of his guns, his big hulking hands handling the small pieces with surprising gentleness.
“This would make a good photo,” I admit. “The quiet after all the craziness.”
He smiles at me. “Then get your camera, beautiful. I won’t stand in the way of your art. Ever.” He lifts his phone. “Or just use this”
I shoot him a disgusted glance. “Never, I am staying old school.” I grab my camera and snap the shot.
Then he winks and says, “I’ve got another pose you might want to capture.”
He walks into the house, giving me a moment alone with nature, the quiet all around us. Rad will do anything to protect us, protect me, and what we have. I am feeling a little less conflicted these days. Not more sensible, definitely not more sane. But, yes, less conflicted. More assured of my path in life. The things I hold dear. Maybe contented is taking it too far.
He returns, seeming a little sheepish. Not the cocksure Rad I know and have come to love.
“The second I left your apartment, after I … told you.” He swallows.
I step forward, place my hand on his chest, feeling his powerful heartbeat. “We’ll never be normal,” I tell him. “And that’s okay.”
He smiles, places his hand atop mine. “I went straight to buy this. I wanted a reminder of what we could have had. Never dreaming I’d be so lucky to get a second chance … actually be here today with you, like this”
He takes a ring box from his pocket.
I gasp and step back as a wolf howls from somewhere deep in the forest.
“I want to protect you for the rest of our lives,” he says huskily. “I want to be there for you, angel. To support you. To help you thrive. To be your Daddy… sometimes,” he winks, “in and out of the bedroom.”
I laugh in delight, tears prickle my eyes.
He lowers himself to one knee. “Mara Rogan,” he says, opening the ring box. Showing a big, beautiful diamond set within a white-gold band, with a red decal as if hinting at our bloody beginning.
“Wait, wait,” grabbing my camera, “I have to capture this moment…sorry, you were about to say…”
“Will you marry me?”
“Yes,” I whisper. Then I raise my voice, let the whole forest hear, let my soul sing in pure joy. “Yes, yes, yes!” I yell to the broad sky.
He cheers, sliding the ring onto my finger, looking happier than I would’ve thought possible the first time I saw him glaring from the shadows in that wedding photo.
“I love you,” he says fiercely, and pulls me in for a kiss. A sweet kiss.
“I love you too,” I tell him, meaning it with every shimmer in my full, full heart.
EPILOGUE
MARA
Three Months Later
In my darkroom, I pick the photo from the chemical tray and pin it up to dry, then smile. I remember the day we took it, just a week after the wedding. We were at the ocean, Rad reclined on a deck chair, eyes closed, a soft smile on his face. I snapped it when he wasn’t looking. No glare. No fierceness. Just him, the inner, unprepared for the world, Rad. Just that serene, contented happiness that soothes me like a balm every day. I should call it my Rad balm.
Three months on the West Coast. Three months of laughter and love and my body setting alight with desire every time Daddy takes me to the bedroom …
Or kitchen. Or study. Or the second bedroom, just to mix it up.
Or even, and this is my favorite, out into the woods.
I smooth my hand over my belly, walking through the house. We’ve got a view of the sea and quiet for miles around, peaceful, scenic countryside.
When I see his car approaching, I get a tingle in my belly. Not just because I do every time. He’s working as a security specialist, earning good money, and I’ve managed to earn my own place as an art gallery assistant.