Say the Word(150)
Vera, Miri, and the rest of the missing girls were back with their families. Several prominent government agencies had stepped forward to ensure that the victims of the Labyrinth trafficking-ring would receive the best psychological and physical treatment to help them cope with what had happened and, hopefully, learn to move on. As for Labyrinth itself, the club was shut down pending further investigation. The freighter had been seized as evidence in the trial against Judith Ann Covington, which was set for six months from now. She’d been denied bail.
I hoped the aesthetics of her cellblock were to her taste.
Former Senator Andrew Covington was also in jail awaiting trial, as were at least twenty men in connection with the organization – including Santos and three other dirty cops. Footage recovered from Judith’s personal files allowed the FBI to pinpoint exactly which government officials had taken part in those “anonymous” auctions on the fourth floor of Labyrinth. I’d heard at least four senators and two congressmen had already resigned from their posts and were facing federal charges.
Conor told me the FBI had an airtight case, between everything they’d found on the freighter, at Labyrinth, and at the Red Hook brewery. No one involved would serve less than the mandatory 20-year sentence — and Judith might serve up to three times that.
The day after I quit Luster, I withdrew some money from my carefully hoarded savings and bought Mrs. Patel a massive massaging recliner chair to sit in during her long hours behind the counter. It was the least I could do to repay her for saving my life. As I’d anticipated, the old woman huffed and puffed when I’d had it delivered to Swagat and the delivery men wheeled away her ancient, faded maroon chair. But, miraculously, as soon as she’d settled into the plush cushions of her new La-Z-Boy, her glare had disappeared and a smile — a real, actual smile — had crossed her face. She was also thrilled to discover the side cup holder made a convenient holster for her Glock.
As for Bash, well, he was Bash. He was wonderful.
And bossy and sexy and annoying and funny and so many other adjectives it would take me another seven whole years to list them all. I suppose it was simplest just to say that I loved him and he loved me, and, for the moment, we were thrilled to simply be together again.
Things had changed, for the better. I’d gotten my unexpectedly happy ending, complete with my fairytale hero. Everything was perfect. At least, it was until something came along that completely knocked me for a loop.
One change I absolutely hadn’t seen coming…
***
I awoke to the sensation of a pair of lips trailing across my bare stomach, leaving featherlight kisses in their wake. My eyes blinked open and I glanced down to see a familiar golden head hovering over my belly button.
“What are you doing?” I whispered, my voice cracking with sleep.
He pressed another soft kiss to my stomach.
I glanced to my left, the small glowing clock on the bedside table next to Bash’s bed informing me that it was just past 5:00 a.m. “Bash?” I asked, slipping one of my hands into his hair. I watched my fingers weave through the thick strands for a moment, my bleary eyes not registering the sight before me for several long seconds.
I finally realized what was wrong — starting with the fact that there was something shiny wrapped around a very important finger on my left hand and ending with the fact that I was pretty positive it hadn’t been there when I’d fallen asleep five hours ago. My hand stilled as my gaze caught on the ring.
Bash raised his head, his warm eyes cutting through the darkness to meet mine.
“What is this?” I breathed, my eyes flickering from his face to my left hand, which I held aloft as though it wasn’t part of my body.
“I’m pretty sure it’s your left hand,” Bash said, grinning.
The lack of air passing through my constricted throat made my voice rise to a nervous squeak. “And the ring?”
“Oh, that.” He laughed.
“Yes, that.” I glared at him. “Is this a joke?”
His laughter died mid-chuckle. “Why would this be a joke?”
“There’s a ring on my finger, Bash!”
“I’m aware of that,” he said in a patient voice, as though I were a five-year-old who didn’t quite understand what was happening. “I’m the one who put it there.”
“But… what…” I trailed off, dazzled by the large rock on my finger.
“Words, Freckles. Use your words.” He grinned again, his hands skimming up and down my sides in a soothing motion.
“You want to marry me?” I breathed, turning wide eyes to him.
Bash smiled. “Well, I don’t make a habit of putting rings on girls I don’t intend to spend the rest of my life with.”
“But you didn’t even ask me!” I narrowed my eyes on his grinning face. “Maybe I don’t want to spend the rest of my life with you!”
His laughter rang out louder than ever and his grin widened. “Yes, you do.”
“How do you know? Huh?” I teased, a euphoric smile fighting its way to the surface. “You snore. And you hog all the covers.”
“Those are your criteria for not marrying me?”
Damn, I needed some stronger material. “You’re always taking pictures of me without makeup on.”