Page 53 of Hawkeye

“Nothing,” Tippon muttered, cradling his broken hand as well as the restraints allowed. “The money was with the boss, and the property had already been split. They ran because they knew it was over.”

Cipher’s voice came through the speaker on the table—he was back in his clubhouse office, watching via a secure feed. “Phones support it. No contact with any remaining buyer or target after the auction-house operation. The crew leader emptied their accounts before he went into Wynnock.”

Stryker pushed away from the wall. “Any memorial already assigned?”

Tippon shook his head quickly. “Webber was the last one. The boss wanted the paperwork and the girl before we left. There wasn’t another job.”

The mention of my woman tightened every muscle through my shoulders, but I kept my hands still. Josie was waiting at the clubhouse, wearing my property patch and my ring, and remembering the promise she had made about staying awake sent heat through the cold purpose that held me together.

Wraith called before the questioning ended. He and Trigger had secured both units, taken Denison alive long enough to confirm the inventory, and recovered the medal group, watch, service letters, sword, framed photographs, and two boxes of unidentified military pieces. Cipher matched the first items to reports already filed by two families, and no evidence inside the lockup pointed toward another active target.

Stryker looked at me when the call ended. “Anything left?”

“Nothing we need.”

Tippon began bargaining immediately, offering account numbers and names from sales years earlier. The senior burglar shouted through the wall that Tippon had ordered everything, while the courier swore he had only driven the van and never intended to hurt Josie. They had spent years profiting from grieving families, then reached for excuses the moment consequences entered the room.

I walked into the courier’s room first. His face drained when he saw the pistol in my hand, and he twisted against the restraints hard enough to scrape the chair across concrete.

“I never touched her,” he insisted. “Your men stopped me before I did anything.”

“You brought restraints and a hood for my woman.” I raised the weapon and fixed the sight between his eyes. “There was never a version of this where you walked away.”

The shot ended his reply. Stryker handled Tippon while Smoke took the senior burglar, the reports close enough together that the echoes overlapped inside the concrete building. None of the men deserved another minute of our time once the last property was secure and every current threat had been closed.

Bishop and Zero remained behind to deal with the bodies, vehicles, and recovered paperwork. I washed at the deep utility sink until the water running over my hands stayed clear, then changed into clean clothes stored in a closet with other fresh garments, for exactly this purpose.

The clubhouse was quiet when I crossed the compound before dawn. A prospect at the main entrance nodded at me, and I headed toward the residential hall while the promise of Josie waiting in my room put a hard pull through my groin despite the exhaustion dragging at every muscle. I reached for the handle, but the door opened before my knuckles touched the wood.

Josie stood barefoot in her dark red dress with my property vest fitted over it and the antique ring glowing warmly on her left hand. Her gaze traveled over me, and understanding settled across her expressive features, and she opened the door wider.

I stepped inside, closed it behind me, and caught her around the waist. The force of the pull lifted her onto her toes before her arms locked around my shoulders, and I buried my face against the warm curve of her neck. Her body pressed soft and alive against mine, and the last rigid edge of the night began loosening beneath my hands.

Josie held me without filling the first few breaths. Then her fingers slid into the short hair at the back of my head, and her voice moved softly beside my ear.

“The shadow-box backing is finally stable enough for me to reattach the original family lining,” she began. “I still want to add a narrow support strip beneath it because the old mahogany shouldn’t carry the weight alone. You won’t see the new material once the box is upright, but it’ll keep the replacement backing from pulling at the joinery.”

I tightened my arm around her and guided her toward the bed while she continued explaining the adhesive she planned to use and why the medal ribbons needed separate support. Her words gave my mind somewhere clean to settle after hours of watching men lie through blood. I stripped off my boots, removed my cut, and pulled her down with me as I collapsed across the mattress.

Josie settled partly over my chest, one shapely leg sliding between mine while the leather carrying my name pressed beneath my palm. My cock hardened at the feel of her, already picturing the red dress and vest on the bedroom floor when I woke, but exhaustion had sunk deeper than hunger. I closed one hand around the back of her neck and held her exactly where I needed her.

She kept talking about the original lining, the faint impression left by the first mounting board, and the tiny adjustment that would let Maren display the box safely again. The tension across my shoulders eased one breath at a time while her ring rested against my chest and her voice filled the dark room. I fell asleep with Josie wrapped around me, my road name across her back, and her quiet words still moving against my skin.

EPILOGUE

JOSIE

Although I’d been twenty-one for eight months and lived in wine country, tonight was the first time I’d ever been to a vineyard. The winery sat above Sable Canyon with the auction tents open to the vines and the evening air moving through white lights strung over the courtyard. Inside the main room, paintings leaned in careful rows and paddles waited on the chairs. A long dessert table held glazed tarts and small layered cakes with sugar work that caught the light.

Jacqueline had already claimed two plates. At eight months pregnant, she didn’t apologize for eating whatever she wanted. I took a tart and stood with her at the end of the table where the crowd had thinned.

“If anyone asks, I only had one,” she murmured.

I laughed under my breath. “Your secret is safe.”

Her gaze dropped to the sparkling water I’d set down on the table next to us, then back to my face. “Yours too?”

I put my free hand over my still-flat belly. “Good guess.”