Page 70 of Defending His Hope
“Found a little somethin’ special.” Raelynn sets a tray on the table in front of us. Four cups of coffee and two chocolate bars. “Don’t tell Ryker I had those in my pack. I’d never hear the end of it.” She winks at me, then nudges one of the bars toward Bettina. “Go on, sugar. Ain’t no one gonna tell you what you can and can’t eat ever again.”
The look Bettina gives her? Pure joy. I don’t care how hungry I am. There’s no way I’m touching the other bar. Bettina deserves both of them.
Before she gets even halfway through the chocolate, Ripper clears his throat. “They’re back.”
“Carla?” Bettina pushes to her feet as the plane door opens. The sisters hold on to one another for so long, Inara has to guide them to a plush couch at the back of the plane so we can take off.
Ryker drops into one of the seats across from us. “Eighteen women. Six men. All under the age of twenty-five. All taken off the streets. Mexico. Canada. Panama.”
“Where are they now?” Wyatt asks.
“With people I trust. In a few days, they can decide if they want to go back home or stay in the United States. Got half a dozen FBI agents on the way from the Austin field office. They’ll show up tomorrow and clean up the rest of the mess that piece of shit left behind. And once we regroup at home, we’ll hit all the other brothels that fuckstick ran and shut them down too.” He drags a hand over his head, rubbing along one of the worst of the scars. “Not sure what it was about this one. But fuck. I’m glad it’s over.”
One Month Later
Wyatt
“We’re here, darlin’.” I shut off the engine and stare at the cabin. For three years, this was my home. But after four weeks in Seattle building a life with Hope, I wasn’t sure I’d ever come back up here again.
Until I came home from a walk with Murphy and she had a suitcase open on the bed.
I panicked, terrified she was leaving me. That she’d come to her senses—despite how many times we’ve said “I love you” since we came back from Salt Lake City.
“Hope? What are you doing?”
She jumps, a nervous laugh escaping her lips. “I didn’t think you’d be home for another half an hour.”
“I missed you. I thought we could grab dinner at that Thai place on the corner.” Murphy presses himself to my legs. He can feel my growing panic. “Are you…leaving?”
Hope drops the sweatshirt she was folding, her eyes wide. “Leaving? Wyatt, I love you.”
“Then…why are you packing?” I’m not proud of the desperate tone to my voice. We have a life here now. Friends. Family. Hope started taking on some small accounting jobs from home, and she and Ripper have been talking about how they can make Hidden Agenda’s investments more profitable. The salary I earn working with Ry and his team is plenty to keep us going—since the man doesn’t charge us a cent for this apartment—and we’ve bought clothes, dishes, throw pillows—even put up a few pieces of inexpensive art.
“Wyatt, look at the suitcase.” Hope’s expression is one hundred percent “I can’t believe I have to explain this to you.”
Flannel shirts. Levi’s. My hiking boots. Cable-knit sweaters for her, leggings, wool caps, and thick gloves.
“You’re packing for the cabin. But I thought we agreed…”
Reaching up to touch my cheek, she smiles. Her bruises have faded, and her sprained shoulder rarely bothers her anymore. “We agreed Seattle was home. Not to stay here three hundred-and-sixty-five days a year. Why can’t we live here…but spend a week up in the mountains every month or so? You love it up there. And even though I don’t ever want to live in a world without Netflix, Dinner Dash, and central heating, getting away from the city from time to time? It’s something we both need. West…um…sort of wired it for satellite internet a few days ago. So we won’t be totally cut off. Just…by ourselves.”
It was the best damn gift anyone’s ever given me. Understanding. Compromise. Love.
Hope stretches in the bucket seat. Ry let me take one of Hidden Agenda’s trucks up here for the week. Both because we decided not to buy a car and because the four-wheel-drive vehicle comes with GPS tracking. I’m not complaining.
“Well, mountain man? You carried me inside the first time you brought me here. Want to do it again?”
Even after a month, Hope still has some pain. A hairline fracture to one of her vertebrae—being dragged down a set of stone steps isn’t good for the spine—healed badly, and some days, she struggles.
“Be honest with me, darlin’,” I say as I scoop her into my arms. Murphy runs ahead of us, circling the cabin so he can use his special doggie door to beat us inside. “What’s today’s number?”
“Only a two. It’s a good day, Wyatt. I’m fine. I just wanted to wrap my arms around you after that long drive. And maybe…” she arches her brows in a way I’ll never be able to resist, “convince you to carry me straight into the bedroom, strip me naked, and show me a little more of the mountain man’s Kama Sutra. We only made a dent in it the last time, and you know me.”
Nudging the door with my foot, I carry her over the threshold. I’ve seen that gleam in her eyes before. “I do, darlin’. You’re an over-achiever.”
“So…?”
The bed beckons. “So, we’d better get started. I want you at least twice before dinner.”
“I love you, Wyatt. Come here, so I can show you just how much.”
Peeling off my shirt, I don’t even think about hiding from her. Hope accepts me. My scars. My occasional foot-in-mouth awkwardness. My intense and overwhelming need to protect her.
We’ve had some bad days. I’ve triggered her more than once. But our love survived a madman with more than a dozen men guarding his compound. There isn’t anything we can’t handle. Together.
