In For the Kill (McClouds & Friends #11)(150)



He grunted eloquently. “Yeah, whatever. Tonight, we light out of here, find a hotel. Turn off our phones. Stay in bed. For about a week.”

She rubbed her cheek against his. “Sounds perfect. But first, we toast with the champagne that Val ordered specially from France.”

Sam sighed, resigned. “We’re doing the family dance? Then we might as well make it official.”

“Official how?”

“Like this,” he said, digging in his jacket. “I brought it along. Just in case, you know, my wildest dreams should come true.”

He pulled out a small hinged box covered with black ribbed silk and tied with a ribbon bow. Held it out to her.

Sveti slid from her perch on his thigh into knee-deep swirling foam, her smile fading to wonderment. She opened the box.

The ring was part of the set that had been on display at the Hotel Aurelio. Rounded rubies, sapphires, and emeralds embedded in a complicated tangle of burnished coils of gold. It glowed in the dimness, as if it had trapped some of the sunset light and held it for them.

“Oh, Sam.” Her whisper sounded lost.

“I’ve got the earrings for you, too. I’ve been hungry for my cake for a long time.” He waited as long as he could stand before prompting her. “Will you wear it?”

Her nod sent tears flashing down her cheeks.

He paused long enough to kiss them away. Her heat, her salt, her wet. All his to claim, to protect and cherish and treasure.

He pulled the ring out of the box. Managed to slide it onto her ring finger without dropping it into the foaming surf. It glowed on her hand, a perfect fit. Not worthy of her beauty, but f*ck it. Nothing on earth could be. He gathered her close, kissed her wet face. It cracked his heart open, the trusting way she rested her head in his hand.

The surf continued its thundering hum of approval. Stars were coming out. Fireworks exploded from the terrace on the mountainside. The warm yellow squares of lit-up windows signaled approval and welcome, urging them to come in from the cold, which was well and good, but not quite yet. It was too soon to share. It was so sweet, so fine and rare. Vulnerable as a newborn child, powerful as a bonfire.

They could only cling and sway, cradled in the arms of the cove, lapped by foam, ruffled by the wind. Awed and humbled by the vast, unfathomable grace of it. They had found their hearts’ home at last.

And they were welcomed in.





EPILOGUE

Six months later . . .



Rachel gazed morosely through the balcony railing. The party was in full swing, and from her perch on the walkway above, she had a perfect view of the dance floor. Sveti and Sam were lip-locked, swaying to an old ballad about crazy love. The plunging back of Sveti’s ivory bridal gown made her look half-naked, the effect enhanced by the fact that her front was plastered to Sam’s chest. Which was more or less where it had been since they got engaged. On the beach, in front of everyone. Flipping exhibitionists. Like, get a room. Please.

Of course, she was happy for Sveti. And Sam was great. Brave, smart, handsome, blah blah blah.

Misha sank down beside her, having sneaked up on her. Which was creepy-sneaky, but also kinda cool. She was glad to see him. He suited her mood. He had his pissy moments, but he was a good guy.

“You look sad,” he observed.

She shrugged, rebelliously. “I hate how everything has to change,” she said. “Why San Francisco? It’s so far away.”

“Better than Cambodia, or India,” Misha pointed out philosophically. “It could have been anywhere. It still might. Soul Rescue will grow fast, with those two working together. Lots of money, lots of power.” His cool voice had a tone of measured approval.

“Please.” She echoed Tam’s world-weary tone. “It’s not about Soul Rescue. All she can talk about is Sam.”

“That will pass,” Misha observed.

“Yeah, and she’ll be thousands of miles away when it does, saving the lost children. What are you doing here? You were supposed to play video games with Sam’s pinheaded nephew. Weren’t we supposed to be the friendly ambassadors to Sam’s tight-assed family?”

“I tried.” Misha’s voice was long-suffering. “He is afraid of me. He thinks I will stab him if he wins. Not that he ever would. Kev is almost as good as you, but he and Jeannie are herding the little kids out of trouble downstairs. They did something terrible to the cake. The caterers are trying to fix the structural damage with sugar glaze.”

Rachel snorted. That gang could be counted on to make trouble. Kev and Jeannie tried to cover for them, with limited success. But Sveti and Sam weren’t concerned about their wedding cake. They swayed, blissed out. In fact, there was a lot of rapt romantic contemplation happening on that dance floor. Weddings brought it out in this crowd, though Mama could usually be counted on not to get mushy. Seth and Raine were twined together, Seth’s nose buried in her silver-blond hair. Aaro and Nina swayed as close as they could get, with sleeping baby girls draped over their shoulders. Miles swayed with Lara, his big hand cupping her pregnant belly. Little Eamon, Uncle Sean’s oldest, danced with Sofia, undaunted by the fact that she was a head taller than he. Nick and Becca snickered at some private joke and kissed, passionately. Yikes. Way too much PDA out there. Eeeuw.

Sam’s father and sister were trapped in a corner by the decimated dessert buffet, hemmed in by Zia Rosa, who gesticulated wildly as she talked. God knew what story Zia was telling the Petries about them, but it hardly mattered. Any story that Zia might pick out of a hat would scare the piss out of a mere mortal man. Her weirdo family rocked.

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