Life moved fast.
But in the moment, this place, everything was perfect.
Mostly.
“Dad would be happy,” Ford said quietly behind her.
She turned. He wore a white oxford, rolled up to the elbows, and a pair of trousers, held Scarlett’s hand, but his gaze was on Gerri. “He’d be glad to know that she’s safe. And that we’re together.”
She nodded, her throat thick. “I miss him.”
Ford swallowed, his eyes glistening. “But this was his vision for us. To be doing what we were made to do, together. To carry on his legacy.”
Tate limped over. “Are you sticking around?” he asked Ford.
“Sorry, bro. Scarlett and I are headed back to San Diego. Her little house just sold and we have packing to do.”
“I thought she was staying in San Diego?”
“I like Minneapolis,” Scarlett said. “And I’m going to work on Ham’s SAR team too.”
“Her little brother is coming for Thanksgiving, so we need to get her apartment set up,” Ford said.
We? Ford could still read her mind, clearly because he grinned. “I’m still living in San Diego. And bunking with a couple of her new teammates in Minneapolis. But not for long.” He winked.
Maybe they should have made more room at the altar. She grinned at him.
Knox came over to them, holding a cupcake. “These are really good.”
“When does NBR-X start back up again?” Ford asked.
“A couple weeks. We have a big finale and then a three-month break. I’m not sure where we’ll land…” He glanced at Reuben, his arm around the shoulders of his pregnant wife. “I think they might need a little room.”
“Nashville is nice,” Tate said. “Glo and I will go back to her mother’s estate—at least until the NBR-X event. After that, well—”
“The White House?” Wyatt said, moving into their conversation.
“Please, no.” Tate laughed. “Although, maybe if we are there, we’ll get to see RJ, right?”
RJ’s eyes widened.
“Yep,” York said, however, and squeezed her hand.
She turned to him, frowning.
“The country needs her if they want to unravel this Crowley mess,” York said, raising an eyebrow.
Oh.
“I’d like to give a toast.” Hardwin’s voice lifted across the room. He was holding a glass of lemonade. “To my bride. But also to her amazing family. I…” He lowered the glass, his gaze traveling over her brothers and RJ. “I wish I’d known your father. But I see the man he was through you all. I see his faithfulness to family, his courage to stand up for what’s right, his tenacity for justice, and his unconditional love in all of you.”
Gerri took his hand.
Hardwin’s voice thickened. “I’ll never be him, but I’m grateful to be in your lives. I know he would be very, very proud of all of you.”
And that shut them all down. RJ’s throat filled, and she glanced at her brothers. Tate looked away, Ford swallowed hard, Knox drew in a long breath, and Wyatt offered a thin grin, nodding.
“Thanks, Hardwin,” Reuben said and held out his hand. “Welcome to the Marshall family.”
York’s hand on her shoulder squeezed.
“Hear, hear,” Wyatt said next to him and drank down his lemonade. Then, “I suppose that means I’ll need to send you season tickets.”
“Center ice, pal.” Hardwin pointed at him. His phone rang in his pocket and he fished it out, looking at the text.
RJ turned to York. “Really? You’d go back to DC with me?”
He touched his forehead to hers. “I told you—turnips.”
“But what about Shelly?”
“Maybe someday, right?” He kissed her forehead just as Hardwin walked up.
“Um, can I talk to you two?”
Tate and the others had moved away from their private conversation, and now RJ looked at Hardwin, then her brothers. “Me?”
“And York.” He gestured with his head toward the door.
They followed Hardwin down the hallway, then into the stairwell and down another flight until they came to the administrative area of the hospital, the general offices. He went in, and the receptionist, a woman in her midfifties, simply pointed down the hall.
He stopped at a closed door and knocked.
The door opened to a suited secret service officer. He stepped aside to let them pass. A few other suited men with ear pieces stood around the room, and two men stood at the window. One was younger—midthirties, brown hair, the build of a warrior. He stood with his back to them, hands clasped as if in parade rest, staring out at the mountainscape to the west.
The other had turned upon their entry and bore the good looks and build of George Clooney, with dark hair, graying at the sides, deep blue eyes, and the winning smile of a politician.
RJ would recognize him anywhere—presidential candidate Senator Isaac White.
“Hardwin!”
She stood there, her mouth agape as White pulled her stepfather into a hug. “Congratulations! I couldn’t believe it when Reba’s people texted me with the news.”
He let Hardwin go, gave him a slap on the shoulder.
“Yes, well, thanks for flying in, Isaac,” Hardwin said. “I know it’s a bit unorthodox, but I thought you should hear RJ’s entire story.”
What—?
“I read your briefing, thank you. And I agree.”
His briefing? Her mouth opened.
Hardwin turned to her. Smiled. “You’re not the only one with secrets. And, by the way, in case you’re wondering, your mother knows that I have a little side job serving my country.” He put his finger to his lips. “But keep your brothers out of it, okay? We all know how intense they can get.”
She stared at him. “I thought you were a bank president.”
“Yes, you did,” he said, winking.
“Right. So, are you still in the game?”
“I’m mostly retired. But still around enough to know that you’re onto something. And here’s where I’m going to step out.” He walked past her, but not until he put a hand on her shoulder. “Your father would be very proud of you, RJ.”
He closed the door behind him.
The senator walked over and shook her hand, then York’s. “Hardwin has filled me in on most of the last five months, as well as your theory.”
“My theory? But how did he—?”
“I might have told him,” York said. “We were sitting up late one night last week, and I told Hardwin the entire story, from the moment you decided to go to Russia to the death of Gustov. And I threw in the information about Kobie and Graham and the bombings.”
“And Hardwin called me,” Isaac said. He pulled out a chair and gestured to it. “RJ, I’d like to ask you for a favor.”
RJ sank into the chair.
York took the one behind her.
The senator motioned to the man standing by the window and he joined them. White set his hip on the table.
“This is special agent Logan Thorne. He’s my director of special investigations, a position we’re keeping on the down-low. But he’s going to head up the investigation.”