Val smiled. “He promised to sign the papers.”
“He did?” I asked, surprised.
Marks snorted. “On the condition that he keeps the condo.”
I looked to Val.
She shrugged. “I hope you were serious when you said you wanted a roommate.”
“It’s only temporary anyway,” Marks said. “I’m going to talk her into moving in with me.”
“Fuck off,” she snapped. She smiled down at me. “You just worry about getting well. I’ll take care of everything. It’s perfect timing anyway. You’ll need someone to help you cook and clean.”
Marks looked at Thomas. “You’re shit out of luck, buddy.”
“Can I move in, too?” Thomas teased. He held his breath while he shifted to get comfortable.
Val motioned to Marks. “We should go. Let them rest.”
Marks nodded, standing and patting Thomas’s foot rail. “Hang in there, brother. We’ll hold down the fort.”
“I was afraid you’d say that,” Thomas said.
Marks held out his hand to Val, she took it, and they walked into the hallway together.
“What about Grove?” I asked Thomas. “Any updates?”
He nodded. “Marks said they’re taking care of it, keeping it along the same lines—a mugging gone wrong.”
“What about the witnesses?”
“It’s taken care of. Benny has no clue that Travis will be knocking on his door soon, and Tarou will just think he’s lost his infiltration. The investigation can go on as planned.”
I nodded. Thomas rubbed my thumb with his, and I looked down at our hands.
“I hope this is okay,” he said.
“It’s better than okay.”
“You know what this means, don’t you?” he asked.
I shook my head.
“Matching scars.”
A wide grin stretched across my face.
Thomas held my hand against his cheek and then kissed my wrist. Slowly lowering our hands to the mattress, he settled in, relaxing, as he made sure he could see me until he fell asleep.
Thomas needed me. He made me happy and made me crazy, and he was right: only together did we make sense. I refused to ruminate on what would happen next, to analyze the probability or logistics of a successful relationship, to try to control whether I felt too much. I’d finally found the kind of love that was worth risking a broken heart.
We’d had to find each other to finally understand that love could not be controlled. Predictions, assumptions, and absolutes were illusions. My love for him was volatile, uncontrollable, and overpowering, but…that was love. Love was real.
EVEN THOUGH YEARS HAD PASSED since the last time I had half-unpacked boxes lying in every room, the organized chaos still made me smile. Memories of moving into my first condo in San Diego—even the first volatile months—were good ones, and they had carried me through the stress of training in my job as the newest Intelligence Analyst at the NCAVC in Quantico.
Just six months before, I had applied for my dream job. Three months later, I had been transferred. Now, I was wearing a robe and fuzzy socks, unpacking the sundresses I would be wearing if I were still in California. Instead, I had to promise myself not to adjust the thermostat—again—and I was sure to keep near the blazing fireplace in my bedroom.
I untied the belt of my robe, letting it fall open, and then lifted my heather-gray FBI hoodie, reaching down to feel the thick circular scar on my lower abdomen. The healed wound would always remind me of Thomas. It helped me to pretend he was close when he wasn’t. Our matching scars were a little like the feeling of being under the same sky—but better.
A car engine grew louder as it pulled into the drive, and headlights raced over the walls before extinguishing. I walked across the living room and peeked out the curtains next to the front door.
The neighborhood was quiet. The only traffic was the car in my drive. Nearly all the windows in the neighboring houses were dark. I loved the new house and the new community. A lot of young families lived on my street, and although the door experienced regular knocking and I’d seemed to be fielding daily requests for chocolate or cheese sales from the local school kids, I felt more at home than ever before.
A dark figure stepped out of the vehicle and grabbed a duffel bag. Then, the headlights came on again, and the car backed out and drove away. I rubbed my sweaty palms on my hoodie as the shadow of a man slowly walked toward my porch. He wasn’t supposed to be here yet. I wasn’t ready.
He climbed the steps, but hesitated when he reached the door.
I turned the bolt lock and pulled the knob toward me. “It’s over?”
“It’s over,” Thomas said, appearing exhausted.
I opened the door wide, and Thomas stepped inside, pulling me into his arms. He didn’t speak. He barely breathed.
Since my transfer, we had lived on opposite sides of the country, and I had become accustomed to missing him. But when he’d left with Travis a few hours after supervising the delivery of the rest of his belongings to our new home in Quantico, I’d been worried. The assignment hadn’t just been dangerous. Together, Thomas and Travis had raided Benny Carlisi’s offices, and organized crime in Vegas would never be the same.
By the look on Thomas’s face, it hadn’t gone well.
“Have you been debriefed?” I asked.
He nodded. “But Travis refused. He went straight home. I’m worried about him.”
“It’s his and Abby’s anniversary. Call him tomorrow. Make sure it’s done.”
Thomas sat on the couch, dug his elbows into his thighs, and looked down. “It wasn’t supposed to go down like this.” He breathed as if the wind had been knocked out of him.
“Do you feel like talking about it?” I asked.
“No.”
I waited, knowing he always said that before he began a story.
“Trav’s cover was blown. Benny and his men took him underground. I panicked at first, but Sawyer got a location on them. We listened while they beat Travis for a good hour.”
“Jesus,” I said, touching his shoulder.
“Travis got some good intel.” He laughed once without humor. “Benny was making a grand speech and giving him everything, thinking Travis was about to die.”
“And?” I asked.
“The stupid son of a bitch threatened Abby. He began detailing the torture she would endure after he killed Travis. It was pretty graphic.”
“So, Benny’s dead,” I said, more of a statement than a question.
“Yeah,” Thomas said with a sigh.
“Years of work, and Benny won’t even see the inside of a courtroom.”
Thomas frowned. “Travis said he was sorry. We still have a lot of work to do. Mick Abernathy has contacts with a lot of bosses besides Benny. We can work the case from that angle.”
I raked my fingers gently through Thomas’s hair. He didn’t know that Abby and I had a secret. She would be handing the Bureau everything she had on her father in exchange for keeping her husband home and out of trouble. Abby had agreed to give it to Travis by their anniversary, and he would furnish that intel to Val, who had been promoted as the new ASAC in San Diego.
“I promised you I’d be finished unpacking by the time you got home,” I said. “I feel bad.”
“It’s okay. I wanted to help,” he said. His mind was elsewhere. “I’m sorry you couldn’t be there. This was just as much your moment as it was mine.” He looked up and touched the stretched fabric of my hoodie that covered my protruding belly—the second unplanned thing to ever happen to us. “But I’m glad you weren’t.”
I smiled. “I can’t see my scar anymore.”