Tucking her legs up to her chest, she shrugged. “It was the start of my goodbye to you. Selling my stuff, closing up the WSP, giving my car away, getting out of my rental agreement. That was all part of your death, you see, and I felt like if I talked to you about it, I was starting the process—and I couldn’t bear that. But I shouldn’t have lied to you. I should have had more courage—”
“I love you.”
Lydia looked over at him and wiped her eyes. “Oh, Daniel… I love you, too.”
* * *
Sitting beside his woman, Daniel heard her say the words, but not with his ears. No, the magic she spoke resonated much deeper than that. And when she reached for him, he went to her like they were out of time: in a desperate rush.
Putting his arms around her, he drew her up against him, and she held him back, and they…
Kissed.
Their meeting of the mouths was the kind of thing that happened when you were trying to figure out whether the nightmare was over—and the truth was, he knew that this was just an intermission, at best. But he had learned something recently.
Don’t argue with the gifts that you were given.
Maybe they weren’t precisely what you wanted. Maybe they weren’t even anywhere near what you’d prayed for. But to turn down a blessing just because your à la carte wasn’t what you had demanded? What a way to disrespect fate.
Assuming this was all real—and it sure as shit felt that way—he was going to take this respite, this restart, and cherish it for as long as it lasted.
Daniel eased back and brushed a lock of hair off Lydia’s cheek. “I’m sorry about all the drama.”
And God, didn’t that cover more than just what had happened in that cave.
They talked some more. Were silent some more. And spoke once again.
And then there were no words.
Just love.
Tucking her against him, so that her head was under his chin, Daniel stared across their bedroom. Deep in his chest, he had the instinct that this was the eye of the hurricane.
The storm was going to come back for them. Though they were reunited, the churning wheels of destiny were still grinding against them, and the winds of suffering were going to batter them once again.
But was anything more powerful than them being together?
No, he thought. Not even death.
It was with that conviction that he closed his eyes. “Shh…” he whispered. “We’re safe.”
“Yes,” she said softly. “We’re together so we’re safe.”
The next thing he knew, he was stretching out with her pressed against him. Soon, he was falling asleep, and so was she. Maybe they would meet in their dreams.
Practice for when he wasn’t here any longer.
Forever, in the mind, in the heart… in the soul.
EPILOGUE
THE NEXT MORNING, Cathy Phalen sat at the desk in her study and watched on her computer monitor as Daniel drove Lydia off on his Harley. Neither of them were wearing helmets, so the glow on their faces, which had nothing to do with the cold, was easy to see.
Struck by the moment, she followed their progression as they passed in and out of the views of various cameras, the images shifting, the reality staying the same. Diagnosis: true love. And she was happy for them.
As her hand went to her lower abdomen, they passed through the final checkpoint at her main front gate… then they roared off. The last video she had of them was of Lydia turning her head to the side and laying her cheek on Daniel’s back.
She hoped they would enjoy the good days ahead, however many of them there were. Whatever had happened, whatever conflict had occurred, had clearly resolved itself—and she wouldn’t be surprised if she had to talk to Chef about a wedding cake.
Gus would have been great at that ceremony, as a best man, she thought. Maybe even the officiant. Then again… Gus was great at everything.
Tucking her feet under her seat, she pulled his fleece even closer to her. She had expected him to call her when he received the document she’d asked Daniel Joseph to witness and had one of her guards deliver, but he hadn’t. Perhaps he was getting his own legal counsel to look it all over. That’s what she would have done if she were in his position—that’s what she would have advised him to do. If he’d asked her for advice.
She really wanted to hear his voice. One last time.
She really wanted to tell him that he’d been right. She had been too rich for too long, and had gotten in the habit of everything—and everyone—going her way.
And she really wanted to explain that she had taken care of Rob’s ashes properly, and placed them in the back meadow in a very good spot—which was a strange confession, and maybe proof that she hadn’t yet learned the full lesson of not using people to her own advantage. Why would Gus want to hear that she’d paid her respects to the father of her child?
God… she missed him. Somewhere, along the line, her business partner had become so much more to her, but she had been too busy being a created persona that the real person underneath had lost out on someone who had been one of a kind…
Her eyes were still on the monitor, on a static black-and-white image of the landscape across the county road from her gates, when her cell phone rang.
Reaching out without looking, she turned the screen over. And rolled her eyes.
But if she didn’t answer, he was just going to keep dialing on his end.
Swiping to accept the call, she said, “I already told you, Gunnar. You need to talk to Gus. He owns Vita-12b now, not me. I even sent you a copy of the goddamn paperwork.”
She thought again of that document. Gus had told her she needed to appoint someone to take over her business affairs—so she had. Who else could she have left Vita to? And the fact that he had accepted another job before he got the envelope she’d sent him had been a funny punch line, hadn’t it.
“I would talk to Dr. St. Claire,” that European accent drawled, “if I could. But he’s missing.”
Cathy frowned and sat up properly. “I’m sorry?”
“When I couldn’t reach him following our conversation, even after many, many phone calls, I sent a representative to his address. His car was in the drive, but the back door was open. My agent went inside—there had been a disturbance in the front room. Blood and scuff marks on the carpet.”
Cold terror tightened Cathy’s throat. And then she felt an anger that went into her marrow. “Gunnar, so help you God, if you are fucking—”
“I want to buy that drug. You know this. Why would I harm the owner of record—and then call you to tell you about it? No offense, Phalen, but you are stupid if you believe that.”
Her hand tightened on her phone. “I’ll find him.”
For them both.
“Good luck,” Rhobes murmured. “Nasty business we’re in. I’ve been a target myself of late, and it is not an enjoyable experience. Call me when you have him—or his body. If it’s the latter, perhaps you and I have something to talk about again.”
The call was ended and Cathy shot to her feet.
Her first instinct was to call for her guards.
But she followed through on the thought that came after that.