McGuire took her hand in his. “Did you think I volunteered to follow you to Virginia because I miss the weather?” He tugged her back. “Perhaps I haven’t made myself clear. What I said on the barge still stands. I want a future. And I want you in it.”
The jittery feeling in her stomach settled, a soothing warmth taking its place. “Then, you’re in luck because I’m right there with you. I just need to tie up these loose ends with the DEA. Figure out if staying with them is even an option.”
“You know you have other choices, right? Not that I’d ever pressure you, but you’d make one hell of a Shadow Hound.”
She snorted, placed the back of her hand along his head. “You don’t feel hot…”
“I’m not delirious. Just, think about it.” He squeezed her hand. “You sure you’ll be okay with Hale as your backup?”
“He saved my ass back in Bogotá. He’s solid. But just so you don’t feel left out…”
She turned, reached into her bag and removed another burner cell. “There’s only one number programmed in that, so don’t lose it.”
He turned it over. “Between you and Savvy, I’m gonna need more pockets.” He blew out a rough breath, stared at her until she thought he’d passed out before he huffed — drew himself up. “Riven, I…”
“Hold that thought. Not because I don’t want to hear it, or that I don’t feel the same, but because if you say anything close to what I’m feeling…” She paused, tried to swallow past the lump in her throat — the cost of holding back how far she’d fallen. That she was stupid in love with him. “I won’t be able to leave, and then it won’t just be cartel assholes who are hunting me.”
“They can all try, but the only way anyone will ever get to you, is if I’m dead.” He slid his hand behind her head, pulled her close as he slanted his mouth over hers, savored the brief moment. “And I’ll wait to tell you how crazy I am about you, just don’t make me wait too long.” He brushed his thumb across her lips. “Now, kiss me, again, before Patch gets back. Then, we’re heading home. Making the most of tonight.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Brotherhood office, Bayou Mamboloa
Two and a half weeks later…
McGuire stood inside Remy’s office, the air conditioning humming in the background as a country song played softly across some speakers. Hues of red and orange painted the room, reflections of the sunset playing across the sky.
His teammates gathered in a semi-circle, arms crossed, gazes centered on the Manila envelope lying cockeyed across Remy’s desk. What McGuire assumed was the reason they’d been called in.
Patch shifted beside McGuire, looking as if just being in town set him off. Had him Jonesing to get back to his shack. The one place McGuire knew Patch still felt at home.
That last word hit him low in the gut.
How he wasn’t sure he had one, anymore. Not without Riven, which was another issue that struck a blow. After talking every night for two weeks straight, she’d sudden gone quiet. The kind that suggested she’d either been sequestered for work, or she’d run into trouble.
The door creaked a moment before Remy walked into the room, looking more than a bit exasperated. He nodded at them, then leaned against his desk, shoulders back, head high.
He thumbed the envelope, eyeing each of them before focusing on McGuire. “I’m not sure what I was expecting, LaSalle, but you look worse than I anticipated. Should you even be vertical?”
McGuire shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m fine, though, is that why you asked us here? To tell me I look like shit? Because you could have done that over the phone.”
“That’s just a bonus. And you do — look like shit.” Remy opened the envelope, handed McGuire the papers. “This is why I asked your team for a quick meeting.”
McGuire grabbed the papers, started scanning through them. He got to the third page and stopped, chest squeezed tight, a dull roar sounding in his head. He looked over at Remy, then handed the sheets to Patch, secretly wondering if he’d read it all wrong.
Patch skimmed over the words, pausing at the same place McGuire had. “Is this a joke?”
He handed the file to Stone and Cross.
Remy laughed. “No joke, and honestly, long overdue.”
Patch coughed. “But it says we’ve been cleared of all charges. That we can reintegrate into the rest of the world, if we want.” He tilted his head. “That we’re no longer ghosts.”
“Yes and no. First, thanks to everything you uncovered with Special Agent Ashburn, your military records have been cleared with your other-than-honorable discharge altered to an honorable discharge. Now, technically, the DoD still thinks you’re dead, and our resident CIA guru, Savvy, thinks that’s for the best, but you’re free to let anyone important know that rumor was highly exaggerated.”
Stone frowned. “What about the Shadow Hounds?”
Remy grinned. “Still active. At least, I’m hoping you all still choose to stay on.”
