“Yes.”
“Was he sorry?”
“Only that he got caught, baby.”
Tears sprang to her eyes, and she squeezed them tight as emotion clogged her throat. As Dr. Christina had taught her, Gray breathed deep. Once. Twice. Three times. On the last inhale, she held the air in her lungs before she let it go. A slow exhale to a better place.
In spite of their violent deaths, there would be no forgiving.
Not Tom Hood. Not Victor Bodak.
And she would never forget. Not Tara. Not what those men did to her.
What she could do? What Tara would want her to do? Stop assigning guilt where none existed. What happened in the Savannah warehouse, Tara falling victim to Johnson’s plot to exact revenge against Gray for the death of his son, not Adam’s fault, or the colonel’s, or Jackson’s.
Or her own.
Even if Tara had survived, she’d never blame Gray. She had been and always would be a beautiful soul, and heaven had gained one hell of a kick-ass angel.God!She’d miss her friend. Every damn day for the rest of her life.
Jackson too.
And her father.
Her heart clutched. What she wouldn’t give for five minutes alone with the colonel. She’d tell him she loved him. Despite everything. Despite the arguments. Despite the hurt feelings. Despite being left out and left behind too many times to count—she did—she loved him. And now it was too late. He’d never hear her say the words.
It was her biggest regret.
Alive one minute. Gone the next.
Just like Adam. Only the colonel wasn’t coming back to life.
Not in two years. Not ever. She’d seen his body on the news. Watched the bullets slam into his chest again and again. Cried at the coverage of the funeral she couldn’t attend. Adam had held her against him as she wept. Promised her Johnson would pay.
Heart growing a little stronger in her chest, Gray swiped at the single tear that managed to escape. No more crying. Thanks to Adam, Chase, and the rest of the JTT, two of the three men responsible for Tara’s death were dead, fertilizing grass in unmarked graves.
One remained.
The man who started it all, Johnson’s time was coming. Soon. They just had to find Tak and bring him home, then it was lights out for the secretary, and happily ever after for her.
With Chase.
Persistent fucker.
The man operated on one speed and went in one direction. Fast forward and straight ahead. Whether in his heart, head, or hands—when he got what he wanted—he didn’t let go. Ever.
Yeah, he was patient. He would wait for her to say yes to getting married until she was ready, just like he waited for her now.
Didn’t change a damn thing.
She belonged to him. He knew it. She knew it. Everybody fucking knew it.
She rolled her hips, and the feel of him, large and hard, had anticipation licking at her core. A constant throbbing settled deep in her pussy. A need only he could satisfy. She took his palm from her breast, leading him to where she wanted him to go. When his fingers found her wet and ready, he groaned, the sound vibrating over her skin, making her want more.
So much more.
He slipped his knee between her thighs, lifting her leg to spread her open before sliding two fingers inside her. She moaned, pressed her hand on top of his, and rolled her hips, urging him deeper. He set up a stroking rhythm that brought her to the edge of an orgasm faster than she’d ever thought possible, and hot damn, if he wasn’t the most capable-handed bastard on the planet.
She loved him. No denying it.
