“Thank you,” I whisper.
He doesn’t turn around, but I feel his hand squeeze my knee.
“Anytime, sweetheart. I mean it.”
We stay until the sun is fully up, until the spectacular colors have faded into ordinary daylight, until the world below has started to wake. Then Stone kicks the engine to life, and we wind our way back down the mountain.
When we pull back into the clubhouse lot, the others are starting to stir—I can see lights in the kitchen, smell coffee brewing through an open window. Stone kills the engine and helps me off the bike, steady hands on my waist.
“You should eat something,” he says. “Maggie’s probably got breakfast going.”
“Okay.” I start to turn toward the building, then stop. Look back at him.
He’s still straddling the bike, helmet dangling from one hand, watching me with an expression I can’t quite read. The morning light catches the silver in his hair, the lines around his eyes, the quiet intensity that drew me in from the very first day.
“Stone?”
“Yeah?”
“Next time the nightmares come, take me on another ride.”
His smile is slow and warm and real.
“Count on it.”
26
JOSIE
My days become a blur of FBI debriefs and recovery.
Agent Pilkin is thorough—hours of questions about what I saw, what I heard, what Caruso and Ivan said during their “questioning.” I give her everything, every detail I catalogued during those terrifying hours, and watch her expression sharpen as she realizes how much intel I managed to gather.
“You’re remarkable,” she tells me at the end of the last session. “Most people in your situation would have been too terrified to think clearly. You turned your captivity into an intelligence-gathering operation.”
“I’m a lawyer,” I say with a shrug. “We’re trained to observe.”
What I don’t tell her is that focusing on those details was the only thing that kept me sane. Cataloguing information gave me something to do other than imagine all the ways I might die.
Stone insists on being present for every debrief, sitting in the corner with his arms crossed and his eyes never leaving me. Hedoesn’t say much—this is federal business, not club business—but his presence grounds me.
He’s been hovering lately, making sure I eat, making sure I sleep, making sure I don’t overdo it. It’s sweet. It’s also driving me slowly insane.
“I can shower by myself,” I tell him when he follows me toward the bathroom.
“I know.”
“Then why are you?—”
“I can’t help it.” He runs a hand through his hair, looking frustrated with himself. “You’re gonna have to give me a few more days. Every time you’re out of my sight, I start thinking about?—”
My irritation fades as quickly as it came.
“Boone.” I close the distance between us, taking his face in my hands.
“I let you out of my sight for a second, and they took you. If I’d followed you in—if I’d been faster?—”
“Then they would have waited for another opportunity. This isn’t your fault.”
