He blinked.

  "Morning, sunshine," Marks said.

  Thomas immediately looked to his left. His features softened, and a tired wide grin formed. "Hey." He pulled my hand to his mouth and kissed my knuckles. He relaxed his cheek against the pillow.

  "Hey."

  "Thought I'd lost you."

  I wrinkled my nose. "Nah."

  Sawyer stood. "I'm going to head out. Glad you're both all right. See you at work." He walked over to me, kissed my hair, and then strolled out.

  "Bye," I said.

  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."

  Tho
mas stood and wrapped me in his solid arms. "Now that I'm finally here, you can just look at mine for the next eleven weeks--give or take a few days--until you can see yours again."

  We walked, hand in hand, across our living room, and Thomas led me through our bedroom door. We sat together on the bed and watched the flickering fire and the dancing shadows on the stacks of cardboard holding picture frames and trinkets from our life together.

  "You'd think we would have figured out a more efficient system for this by now," Thomas said, frowning at the boxes.

  "You just don't like the unpacking part."

  "No one likes to unpack, no matter how happy that person might be to move."

  "Are you happy to move?" I asked.

  "I'm happy you got this job. You've worked toward it for a long time."

  I raised an eyebrow. "Did you doubt me?"

  "Not for a second. But I was nervous about the ASAC position in DC. I was beginning to sweat getting settled before the baby arrived, and you didn't seem to be in a huge hurry for me to get here."

  I wrinkled my nose. "I'm not thrilled about your hour commute though."

  He shrugged. "Better than transcontinental. You dodged the part about not being in a hurry for the father of your child to be around."

  "Just because I'm learning to allow for a few variables doesn't mean I've given up on having a master plan."

  His eyebrows shot up. "So, this was the plan? For me to go crazy from missing you for three months? For me to take the red-eye to be here for every doctor's appointment? For me to worry that every phone call was bad news?"

  "You're here now, and everything's perfect."

  He frowned. "I knew you would apply for this position. I psyched myself up for the move. Nothing could have prepared me for you to tell me four weeks later that you were pregnant. Do you know what it did to me, watching my pregnant girlfriend move across the country--alone? You didn't even take everything with you. I was terrified."

  I breathed out a laugh. "Why didn't you tell me all of this before?"

  "I've been trying to be supportive."

  "It all happened exactly the way I'd planned," I said with a smile, incredibly satisfied with that statement. "I got the job and took just enough with me to get by. You got the job, and now, we can unpack together."

  "How about, when it involves our family, you plan with me?"

  "When we try to make plans together, nothing happens the way it's supposed to," I teased, nudging him with my elbow.

  He put his arm around me and pulled me close to his side, placing his free hand on my round stomach. He held me for a long time as we watched the fire and enjoyed the quiet, our new home, and the end of a case that we had both worked on for a few years shy of a decade.

  "Don't you know by now?" Thomas said, touching his lips to my hair. "It's somewhere in the unforeseen when the best, most important moments of our lives seem to happen."

  Thank you to Kristy Weiberg, for not only being one of my biggest cheerleaders, but for also introducing me to Amy Thomure who is married to FBI Agent Andrew Thomure.

  Andrew, I appreciate your patience as I asked what you probably thought were odd questions, but you never made me feel that way. Thank you for all your help!

  As always, thank you to my incredible husband, Jeff. I couldn't list everything you do on a daily basis to keep the house running, to get the kids to various places they need to be--on time--and on top of everything else you do behind the scenes. You are my savior, and I would not be able to keep the hours I do without you.

  Thank you to my children for understanding my strange hours and for their forgiveness when Mommy says for the hundredth time, "I can't. I'm working."

  Thank you to Autumn Hull of Wordsmith Publicity, Jovana Shirley of Unforeseen Editing, Sarah Hansen of Okay Creations, and Deanna Pyles. You are all such valuable members of my team, and I appreciate the tremendous effort you put into helping me complete this novel.

  To authors Teresa Mummert, Abbi Glines, and Colleen Hoover, who allow me to vent and celebrate, be random, and ask silly questions--You are my home base, and I would be lost in this life without you.

  Thank you to Selena Lee, Amanda Medlock, and Kelli Smith for being a constant source of encouragement and laughter. Kelli, thanks for allowing me to borrow your husband's name! I can't wait until we're all together again. Your company (with Deanna) truly makes up some of the best days of my life.

  Thank you BIG to Ellie of Love N. Books and Megan Davis of That's What She Said book blogs. Without their help in the last two months, I wouldn't have been able to concentrate on finishing this novel. Thank you for doing all the heavy lifting on the A Beautiful Wedding Vegas Book Event, and thank you for stepping up to help without hesitation!

  Last but never least, thank you Danielle Lagasse, Jessica Landers, Kelli Spears, and the awesome MacPack for the amazing support and for spreading the word about my work!

  JAMIE MCGUIRE was born in Tulsa, Oklahoma. She attended Northern Oklahoma College, the University of Central Oklahoma, and Autry Technology Center where she graduated with a degree in Radiography.

  Jamie paved the way for the New Adult genre with the international bestseller Beautiful Disaster. Her follow-up novel, Walking Disaster, debuted at #1 on the New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestseller lists. Beautiful Oblivion, book one of the Maddox Brothers books, also topped the New York Times bestseller list, debuting at #1.

  Novels also written by Jamie McGuire include: apocalyptic thriller, Red Hill; the Providence series, a young adult paranormal romance trilogy; Apolonia, a dark sci-fi romance; and several novellas, including A Beautiful Wedding, Among Monsters: A Red Hill Novella, and Happenstance: A Novella Series.

  Jamie lives on a ranch just outside of Enid, Oklahoma with her husband, Jeff, and their three children. They share their thirty acres with cattle, six horses, three dogs, and a cat named Rooster.

  Find Jamie at www.jamiemcguire.com or on Facebook, Twitter, Tsu, and Instagram.

  PREORDER HAPPENSTANCE: PART THREE

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  Jamie McGuire, Beautiful Redemption

  (Series: The Maddox Brothers # 2)

 

 


 

 
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