Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

T he Tooth was dark.

London didn’t know exactly what scenario had lodged in her brain over the past twenty-some hours, but maybe, just a little, she’d hoped the team might be . . . what? Waiting for her? With open arms?

“You getting out?” This from her Uber driver.

“No. Can I add an address?”

Probably better to go back to her old house, see if Boo might be there. She owed Boo an explanation anyway.

“Sure,” Uber man, a guy named Felix, said. She told him the address and he keyed it in, and the additional fare came up on her phone.

They drove away from the Tooth, into the night, the lights of Anchorage glimmering against the faraway mountains.

So, okay, perhaps her decision to return to Alaska might be more celebrated in her head than in reality, especially since she’d so dismantled Shep’s hopes and sent him away dark and wrecked.

Who knew what he’d said to Moose and Axel? Although, as Felix drove through the neighborhoods toward her rental home, she dismissed the accusation. Shep wasn’t a guy to bare his pain to his buddies.

Even to her, really.

In fact, the guy was, and had always been, so solid, so put together that she hadn’t really realized how much she’d hurt him over the years until he’d left her in Montelena.

Okay, she’d had a glimpse of the depths of his love when he’d kissed her, but . . .

Yes, the man was a well of emotion behind that steadfast exterior.

And she’d torn him apart. No wonder he’d given up.

Hopefully, those emotions wouldn’t make him turn her away, too angry with her to give her a second—no, probably this ranked as fifth—chance.

“This one?” said the man, and London nodded as he pulled up to the small bungalow that overlooked Cook Inlet. Of all the places she’d lived, this was one of her favorites, the view through the trees of the water, the piney smell that surrounded the yard. Boo’s Rogue sat in the plowed driveway. Another car was parked behind it, a Yukon, and she recognized it as Axel’s car.

Huh .

She grabbed her bag, got out, and confirmed the payment, added a tip, then headed to the door.

Okay, deep breath . Yes, her roommate knew she was alive, but . . . well, that conversation hadn’t quite gone down yet between them, so . . .

She opened the door.

Stepped inside.

Tillie sat on the sofa in the family room, frowning at her phone. She looked up, and her mouth opened. “London?”

London dropped her bag in the entryway. “Hey.” She shut the door. “What’s going on?”

“London!”

She followed the voice to see Boo on the stairs, wearing a pair of leggings and an oversized sweatshirt.

“Hey, Boo?—”

But Boo had rushed down the stairs. “I know I saw you in Montelena, but . . . sheesh, you walked away before I got . . . well, this.” She pulled London hard into her embrace.

“I’m sorry.” Wow, she’d been selfish, and Shep’s words about being cruel rushed back to her. London’s throat thickened, her chest knotted, and shoot , now her eyes filled. “I’m sorry I lied to you.”

Boo held her away. Met her gaze, her own eyes watery. “No, I get needing to hang on to secrets, even wanting to leave the past behind.” She raised an eyebrow. “But that’s over, right?”

Oh, she hoped so.

Boo hugged her again. “I’m just glad you’re back. When Shep came home alone . . .” She let her go again. “Okay. See, everything’s good. The team’s back together. And”—she glanced at Tillie—“we’re heading over to Moose’s because Tillie and Moose are engaged.”

“What?” London turned to Tillie, who’d stood up, still frowning at her phone. Now she pocketed it.

“Yeah. Moose finally asked,” Tillie said. “Long story.”

London crossed the room. “Yeah, but an easy ending. We all know he’s been in love with you for years.”

Tillie met her hug. Behind them, a knock on the door, and London turned to see Flynn walk in.

“Hey, London,” Flynn said. “I didn’t know you were back. Are you going to Moose’s?”

And just like that, everything was back to normal. Her, back with the team. London Brooks, pilot.

Laney Steele, long gone.

“Yeah.” She swallowed. “Um, is Shep going?”

A couple smiles, one from Flynn, the other, Tillie.

“He went home to get his dog,” Boo said. “But he said he’ll be there.”

His dog. London had forgotten about the animal, and, well, Jasmine . Her gut tightened. Maybe he deserved a woman like Jasmine, someone who was there to meet him when he came home. Steady, dependable.

Whatever . London could be steady and dependable.

“Moose just texted and said to hurry,” Tillie said. “Weird.”

“Let’s go,” Boo said.

“Ride with me,” said Tillie. “Then Shep will have to give you a ride home.” She winked.

“I’ll go with you too,” said London.

“I’ll ride with you guys,” Flynn said. “We need to talk about your house anyway.”

They got into Axel’s SUV, and Tillie cranked up the heat as she pulled out. “So, Montelena. Was it beautiful?”

“Gorgeous.”

“I looked it up,” Flynn said. “It has a castle.”

“It does. And a king. And a royal family. And it’s one of the wealthiest countries in the world.”

“Glad you’re home,” said Boo, touching London’s shoulder with hers in the back seat. “The team was a little lost without you.”

Silence, and Tillie met London’s gaze in the mirror. “I just feel better knowing that Moose has you for his copilot.”

Sweet . But the sense of all of it swelled up inside her. Home. Belonging. She could go all in on being London Brooks, no problem.

They got on the highway heading northeast, toward Moose’s place.

“Okay, so Dawson called me,” Flynn said. “The fire report came back. They’re not sure it was arson, but the gas line on your stove had been cracked, filling your house with gas.”

“I smelled gas,” Tillie said. “I couldn’t figure out where, so I went outside.”

“Through the garage?”

“Yes.”

“Because that’s where the fire ignited. Their guess is that the gas from the house seeped out and connected with the pilot light of your furnace. And since the gas from inside had escaped, it took some time to engulf the entire structure.”

“It caught fire not long after I crossed the street,” Tillie said. “Sheesh, if I had stayed inside?—”

“But you didn’t,” London said. “You can’t what-if. It’ll take your breath away. You’re here now, and safe, and all you can say is, ‘Thank You, God.’”

Tillie nodded, and London looked out the window. Thank You, God, for showing up, so many times. Prince Luka’s words returned to her . “The journey—not the ending—is the point of the story. It’s how the characters change and grow and become, right?”

Yes. And all the what-ifs that hadn’t happened were part of the twists in the story. And evidence of the hand of God with her, whether she’d been Princess Delaney, Laney Steele, or London Brooks.

“So, do you think it was an accident, or arson?” Boo asked, leaning up.

“The house was empty a long time while I was in Florida. Maybe the hose just got cold and cracked,” Tillie said.

“Or someone broke in?” This from Flynn.

Tillie’s hands whitened on the steering wheel.

“Axel told me what happened at the courthouse, with Harry Benton,” Flynn said.

“Harry Benton? Why do I know that name?” London leaned forward in her seat.

“His daughter, Grace, was the one who died in the blizzard at the Copper Mountain ski resort last spring.”

“Right. I remember now. She was attacked by the Midnight Sun Killer.”

“And left out in the cold to freeze to death,” Boo said. “Poor Oaken still has nightmares sometimes of leaving her behind.”

“The coroner said she might have been dead before they quit the search,” Tillie said. “It’s the reason why the lawsuit was dismissed.”

“But Benton believes differently. And that’s why he threatened Moose,” said Flynn. “At least, according to Axel.”

“Oh, the man—and Grace’s fiancé—definitely threatened him. Told him that someday he’d watch the people he loved die.”

Wow, London had been out of the loop while chasing her shadow. Through the rearview mirror, she saw Tillie’s mouth tighten.

“I’m so tired of unhinged, angry people taking out their pain on others,” Tillie said quietly.

London nodded, along with Boo.

“Yeah. It got me worried,” Flynn continued. “So I did some sleuthing on Benton. He’s a contractor. And Liam Grant works for him, a mechanical engineer. They own a building company.”

Silence.

They’d turned off the highway, toward Moose’s place.

“So they’d know all about gas lines?” Boo said. “Right?”

“Maybe,” Flynn said. “I checked and there’s no record of Benton or Grant leaving Alaska after the trial. They did check out of their hotel two days later, but their rental car hasn’t been turned back in. . . .”

“So they could still be in Alaska?” said Boo.

“Starting gas fires?” London added.

“Dawson put out a BOLO on the car and the men,” Flynn said. “The rental is a Kia Sorrento and has Washington State plates.”

“Like that one?” Boo said, and Tillie touched her brakes. The car sat on the side of the road, dark and lightly dusted with snow, as if it had been sitting for a while.

Tillie slowed and then pulled up in front of it. Flynn got out and shone her light on the plates, came back, her expression haunted. “The plates say Montana, so it might not be them.”

“Or they changed the plates,” London said.

“How far are we from Moose’s place?” Boo asked.

“Maybe a quarter mile,” London said, her mind on her own not-too-distant hike through the woods. She reached for the door handle. “I’m getting out. Just in case.”

“I’ll go with you,” Flynn said. She turned to Tillie. “Maybe it’s nothing. But watch yourselves, ladies. We’ll meet you at the house.”

Tillie pulled away, and London shoved her gloved hands into her pockets. “Are we overreacting?”

“Dunno,” said Flynn. “I came from work, so . . .” She opened her jacket, revealing where she wore a shoulder holster, her issued Glock tucked away.

“Let’s hope you don’t have to use that,” London said. “I’d suggest we use our cell phone lights, but I don’t want them to see us coming. We’ll have to go by starlight.” Moonlight shone through the trees, upon the glistening snow. Tillie’s taillights had disappeared, probably down Moose’s driveway.

“We’ll take the drive in, then cut around to the back of the house, see if we can see anything through the back windows.” She took off toward the driveway at a light run.

The motion-sensor lights had flickered on, a couple of them fading to dark with the passing of the SUV.

“Let’s get off the drive,” she said, and they cut a path at the edge of the trees, down to the house.

“I texted Axel on our drive up, but he didn’t answer,” Flynn said now.

Their feet crunched through the snow, faster now as London picked up her pace despite the deep snow. Flynn followed her, and they skirted the edge of the forest all the way along the property line of Moose’s place. His house rose large and impressive in the night, dark save for the light streaming from the basement walkout sliding door.

“The guys said they were going to watch the hockey game,” said Flynn quietly.

London grabbed her arm. “Let’s just . . . take a look.” She kept low, running from one stand of trees to the next, then finally hunkering down beside the woodshed.

From here, she got a good view of the horror inside.

“Is that Benton?” asked Flynn.

“Yeah, I think so.” London blew out a breath at the sight of Moose and Axel on the floor, two men standing near them, holding weapons. “Call Tillie, tell her not to go in.”

Except, too late, because Tillie and Boo came down the stairs.

Oh no.

Tillie put her hands up, and Boo ran over to someone— ah , Oaken on the floor too.

Moose was shouting, making a ruckus.

“We need to get in there before Benton shoots them all.”

“I’ll call Dawson, get the APD out here.”

London got up. “Do it right now.”

Then she went into the shed, opened the root cellar door, and climbed down the stairs. She opened the hidden door and keyed in the code. The last time she’d tried, she’d broken the latch inside. The door didn’t budge.

Think .

She climbed up to the woodshed and found the maul for chopping wood on a nearby stump. She grabbed it and the sledgehammer.

“What are you doing ?” Flynn said, following her back to the root cellar.

“This is the tunnel to the house.”

London shoved the maul between the frame and the door. She picked up the sledgehammer. “Stand back.”

Then she slammed the hammer into the maul. It made a terrible clang, enough to carry to the house, but the door ripped open.

Flynn shone her light down the tunnel, but London knew the way and ran through it, the air still as clammy and rank as before. She keyed in the code at the far door, then opened it and found herself back in the office.

For a moment she debated turning on the power and lighting up the screens, but she’d seen the situation just fine already. Still, maybe there were more attackers?—

“Is this the tunnel to the sauna?”

She nodded, and Flynn headed in, so London followed her up.

They came out into the sauna room just like before, but now Flynn crept into the box, London behind her. The light from the other room didn’t reach the sauna but illuminated the horror in the entertainment area.

Boo was bleeding from the mouth, and blood covered her hands and shirt. She knelt above Oaken, who had rolled over onto his side, his hands tied behind him. He bled from a shoulder wound.

Axel lay on his side, as if he had tried to get up and had been kicked, given the welt on his jaw. He glared at Benton, the man’s back to London.

Moose, however, was still struggling, shouting. “Stay away from her. She’s not a part of this! She’s not even a part of the team!”

Maybe he was referring to Tillie, who had her hands up, the other man— right, the fiancé, Liam Grant —holding a shotgun to her chest.

London and Flynn crept out of the sauna into the pool room, huddled in the darkness under the pony wall.

“Can you get a shot off, take down Grant?” London said. Benton stood closest to the door. “I can get to Benton.”

Flynn nodded. “Except Grant is looking pretty spooked. He’s not a criminal?—”

“Now he is.”

“Yeah, but mostly he’s desperate. And that’s?—”

“Dangerous. People do stupid things when they’re desperate,” London said. Like faking their own deaths and forgetting who they are.

But London knew exactly who she was. London, Laney, Delaney—but most of all, the woman who loved her team.

“I’ll provide the distraction—you shoot as soon as the door is open.” London hustled to the door.

Moose was still shouting. “Let her go! Just let her go!”

“Get on your face!” Benton said to Tillie.

As London watched, Moose rolled onto his back, and suddenly, his hands came free. He launched himself at Benton’s feet.

She threw open the door, let out a roar, and dove at Benton.

Behind her, a shot erupted, but she’d already taken Benton down to the floor, pinning him.

“Tillie!”

The shout from Moose nearly shook her hold free, but she closed her eyes and hung on. Focus, London.

Moose was on the man, wrestling with his gun, and she boxed Benton’s ears.

Another shot, and Moose fell back, shouting.

Benton rolled then, and a pain seared through her leg. She jerked, and Benton wrenched free. Heat pooled, and as she rolled, she realized he’d stabbed her. Maybe with a piece of broken television.

Benton hit his feet and headed for the sliding door.

Moose had the gun, rolled, and took a shot.

The door window shattered.

Benton ran straight through it.

Oh no —he wasn’t going to get away to show up and terrorize them another day. London rolled to her feet and took off after him through the shattered door, into the night.

* * *

Shep hadn’t meant to be a jerk. Jasmine was a sweet girl, but when she’d brought pork dumplings over along with Caspian and offered to stay and heat them up for him, he’d had to tell her the truth.

Now he turned to Caspian, who sat shotgun in the front seat, staring at him with those big brown eyes. “I know she’s nice to you, pal, and frankly, knows you better than I do, but . . . the thing is, I don’t belong to her. I belong to London, right?”

Caspian definitely looked better-fed, his dark coat shiny, and he seemed to understand. He lay on the seat now and put a paw on Shep’s leg.

Shep rubbed the dog behind his ears. “But I am going to have to figure out what to do with you. I’m not sure that spy life agrees with having a dog.”

Caspian whined.

“I know. I am hoping that Hazel and Tillie fall in love with you.”

He’d showered fast, and even though he’d found Jasmine in his kitchen with dinner when he came downstairs—note to self, change the door code before he sold the condo to Axel—he’d only be a little late for dinner at Moose’s. Maybe an hour behind everyone, but with Boo and Tillie going to Boo’s house, the party wouldn’t start for a while anyway.

Although, how he was going to tell Moose he was leaving . . . Yeah, here he was, right back to where he’d been a month ago when he’d thought London might be dead.

But she’s not dead, and he was going to make sure she stayed not dead. And home could be wherever she wanted it to be.

As long as it was with him.

His stomach growled. He’d missed Moose’s steaks, for sure. And maybe he should call London just to . . .

What? Apologize? Yes, probably . But also, just to tell her . . .

Shoot . He should have had the courage to stand in faith that God could give him the right happy ending.

Even if it looked different from the one he’d expected.

He looked at Caspian. “Hard to belong to someone who doesn’t seem to want you.” But maybe that was a lie. Wow, he hoped it was a lie.

She’d never said she loved him, though.

Aw. This might be another colossal mistake. But it didn’t feel like a mistake, and maybe that’s what faith was . . . moving forward, trusting God, even when it didn’t make sense.

He pulled up to the house and parked his Tahoe next to Axel’s Yukon and a shiny Porsche.

Probably Oaken’s.

Caspian jumped out the driver’s-side door.

The front light flicked on when Shep climbed the steps and opened the door, expecting a kitchen full of his team.

Shouting from downstairs, and Caspian ran past him, barking.

He followed him in and then?—

A gunshot. He froze.

The door to the basement stood open, and Caspian ran down the stairs to more shouting, a scream, the crash of glass?—

Shep scrambled down the stairs after the dog.

The sight stopped him. Tillie, going mano a mano with a burly guy, dodging a punch, landing an uppercut on his chin, then sweeping out his legs and pouncing on him, trapping his arms.

Only then did he see the blood cresting down her face onto her shirt. But the woman seemed unfazed, and she hit the man just as Flynn ripped flex cuffs from Axel’s wrists with a piece of glass from the shattered television.

Axel rolled to his feet. “Help Tillie!”

Flynn grabbed the angry man by one arm, and Axel was right there, grabbing the other arm.

Tillie hit him again, and this time the man stopped struggling.

Boo had picked up Oaken, sat him up against the wall, had shoved a pillow into his shoulder. Blood saturated his shirt.

And Moose had completely lost it, ripping at his leg ties.

Only then did Shep see the shattered glass door.

Moose looked up at him. “She’s out there!” He pointed to the door. “She went after him.”

Caspian, as if understanding completely, took off into the night.

Shep came into the room, slowing. “Who?”

“London!”

He stalled for just a second. London?

Of course, London . Showing up, unexpected. Completely changing his world.

Then he looked at the shattered door and took off.

Bloody footsteps shone in the snow in the pool of light from the house. The illumination reached out enough to show two figures fighting in the night.

London—seriously? But he could recognize her anywhere, fast and tough as she dodged a man swinging at her. She returned a blow and staggered.

Staggered? Oh no . Her blood darkened the snow.

The man rounded on her, and Shep’s entire body nearly exploded when he connected, a right hook to her face.

Her gorgeous, beautiful face ?—

Shep tasted only justice as he roared, running full-out toward them.

The man tripped her up, and even as she rolled, landing on her back, he was on her.

Hands to her throat, pushing her into the snow.

Shep’s feet crashed through the broken snow, but Caspian reached them first. He caught the man’s jacket, growling.

The man punched the dog, who let go, whining.

And that turned Shep to fire.

He launched himself at the man, caught him, and they rolled through the snow.

The man hit him, but Shep was right there with years of bottled-up anger, the violence banked for this exact moment.

One punch and the man staggered back.

Shep hit his feet. Then charged. The hill caught them, and suddenly they were sliding toward the river.

The roiling, dark, lethal river. Shep pushed the man away, rolled onto his stomach, kicked hard into the embankment.

The man kept sliding, shouting?—

He splashed into the river.

Shep rolled over, breathing hard.

The current grabbed the man, and he shouted, panicking as the cold shocked him.

Shep got up, scrambled down to the edge. Icy chunks settled near the shore, but the man had fallen deeper, floating now some ten, then fifteen feet away.

“Help!” he shouted at Shep. “Help!”

Shep turned back to the house, to London and his team. They’d spilled out of the house, Flynn with London.

“Help!”

He glanced at the man in the water. Shoot ?—

“Swim!” Shep plunged into the water, the temperature like knives to his skin, and oh, this was stupid, stupid ? —

“Shep!”

He turned and spotted Axel, now wading out into the water, his arm outstretched.

The man was swimming now, fighting the current. He made it to a boulder, clinging hard. Shep grabbed Axel’s hand, and in a moment, Moose ran up.

He stood on the shore. “What the?—”

“He’s going to drown,” said Shep, and for a second, he saw that truth play in Moose’s eyes.

But Moose was built like Shep, and after a moment, his mouth tightened and he walked out into the water, grabbing Axel’s arm, making a human chain. Shep went deeper, up to his thighs now, Axel’s grip on him an anchor. The man was only feet away, clinging to the boulder, the water rushing over him, shaking him. He stared at Shep, not reaching for him.

“C’mon, dude. I’m not letting go of my teammate, so you’re going to have to decide whether you want to live or die.”

The man gasped, fighting for breath in the tumult of water.

Shep leaned out for him, his hand splashing down in the water.

“C’mon, Benton!” Moose shouted from shore. “Don’t let your pride kill you! Grab on!”

The man clung to the rock, his gaze on Shep, then Axel and Moose. And then Shep could almost see it in his eyes. The grief, swelling up to crash over him, overtake him.

“I . . . I’m not going to let you save me.”

“Benton!” Moose shouted even as the man let go.

Shep lunged for him, but Axel grabbed him back. The man went spinning out into the current, going down, splashing up, and then disappearing.

Shep let out a word, hitting the water.

Axel yanked him toward shore. “You can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.”

He stared at the darkness. Maybe. But it was his job to try.

Always, to try. So maybe he was walking, a little, in his old man’s shoes.

He struggled out of the current, Moose reeling them in, and then landed on shore, shivering, frozen. “We should look for him.”

“I’m not endangering my team,” Moose said. “Besides . . .”

Caspian’s barks lifted into the air.

London.

Shep pushed past Moose, already heading toward the chaos, running hard through the slick, sharp snow.

London lay in the snow, Boo beside her and shoving snow into the wound in London’s leg. It saturated the white, red and shiny. Tillie had run out, breathing hard, her own head wound bandaged with a towel. She held another towel and gave it to Boo.

Shep dropped to his knees beside London, reaching for her. “What—what are you?—”

“I’m sorry,” she said, grabbing his hand. Her eyes had turned glossy. “I should have followed you. Chased after you. Because you’re right—you know me. You know all of me?—”

“Okay—yes, I do, but let’s get you sorted?—”

“I choose you, Shep.”

Oh. “Listen, London—Lacey—whoever you want to be—I’m in. I’ve always been in.” His grip tightened on hers.

“We need another towel, and where is that ambulance?” Boo said from somewhere behind him.

“I shouldn’t have made you choose. You be who you want. I’ll be?—”

“My hero.”

He made a face. “Seriously?”

“It felt right.” She grinned, tears cresting down along with a groan as Boo tightened the towel around her leg.

“I was going to say, I’ll be here. Still holding on.”

“I love you, Shep. I always have—and I always will?—”

Aw, and he didn’t have a hope of stopping himself from leaning in and unleashing a little of the emotion inside.

“Hey—let’s not get the heart pumping any more than necessary here,” Boo said.

Shep pulled away, met Boo’s eyes. “How bad is it?”

“I don’t think it nicked the artery, but she’s bleeding pretty good,” Boo said.

Moose had Tillie in his arms, holding her, and Axel had fallen to his knees, breathing hard. He looked like he might throw up even as Flynn ran outside.

“Cops are here. They’ve called an ambulance.”

London turned to Shep, grabbed his shirt. “Shep, if you want to stay here and build a life in Alaska, I’m in. Or wherever?—”

“Yes,” he said. “ Wherever . Because wherever is always home with you.”

“Wow,” Axel said. “That’s . . . Shep, I’m impressed.”

“Guys, she’s not going to die ,” Boo said. “I just want to get her stitched up.”

“Besides, been there, done that. Not recommended. Zero stars,” London said.

“What she said,” Shep said, and picked London up, easy, into his arms. “Let’s get you to a hospital.”

“And Oaken—he was shot too,” Axel said.

“He’ll be okay,” Boo said. “It nicked his shoulder.”

“I have to say this is the worst engagement party I’ve ever been to,” Axel said.

No one smiled.

“Really? C’mon, that was funny.”

London looked at Shep, grinning. “It sort of was.”

Moose and Tillie headed to the house. Shep followed them, carrying London, Caspian barking at his feet, running in circles.

Inside, Dawson Mulligan had finished cuffing Grant, who sat on the sofa, his jaw tight as Dawson read him his rights. The man looked away, his eyes distant. As if his world had exploded and he didn’t know how to put it back together again.

Shep remembered Grant having that same sort of look back when his fiancée went missing, and later, when they’d found her body. So maybe he’d never recovered. Maybe this was what grief looked like when pain turned to vengeance.

And it occurred to Shep that this could have been him—minus the shooting, but still, a hollowness, even a terrible sense of unfairness that could have dogged his every thought.

Unless .

Unless he hung on to faith. To believing that God was bigger than his grief. And in the end, God had surprised him with so very much.

“London—what—I thought you were dead,” Dawson said.

“Surprise,” she said, her arms looped around Shep’s neck.

Shep shook his head.

Dawson looked at Flynn. “Hello?”

“Sorry,” Flynn said.

“So, what exactly went down here?” Dawson indicated for another officer to haul Grant up.

Moose opened his mouth, closed it. Sighed. “My team . . . got ambushed.” He suddenly seemed taken apart. “I can’t believe . . . Guys, I’m so sorry.”

“He might be going into shock,” Boo said. “Get him some water.”

“Seriously? Look at you all,” Moose said. “This is all my fault.”

He gestured to Oaken, who sat with the pillow to his shoulder, and Tillie, with her sodden towel over her head, and Axel, a little beat up, standing with his hands on Flynn’s shoulders, and London, bleeding in Shep’s arms?—

“What are you talking about?” Shep said.

“If I hadn’t said yes to that stupid reality show?—”

“Stop,” Shep said. “If it weren’t for that show . . . well, we’d all still be . . . maybe less bloody, but God had a plan, even in the crazy. Even when”—he looked at London—“when life seemed unhinged and out of control.”

“Out of bounds.” She smiled at him.

“Moose and Tillie got engaged,” Axel said. “So that’s a win.”

Moose smiled.

An EMT appeared on the stairs. “Where’s the injured?”

“Here,” Boo said.

“Me,” Oaken said.

“Right here,” said Moose.

“London first,” said Shep and carried her up the stairs.

Outside, light bathed the yard, and he walked her right down to the open doors of the ambulance. Set her on a gurney. “She needs some fluids and painkiller, and stitches,” he said to the EMT who’d followed him out.

Shep climbed in behind her.

“Sorry, sir, you’ll have to ride separately,” the EMT said. Not a big guy, but sturdy enough.

Shep looked at London. “I don’t think so.”

“That’s against the rules.”

Shep turned and gave the man a look. “I see this going one of two ways. You could try to drag my body out of here—and you could probably give it a good go—but I promise you, it won’t go well. And in the end, I’ll be the one still standing.”

The man’s eyes widened.

“Or you could close those doors and drive us to the hospital.”

“Let him go,” said Dawson, coming off the front steps. “He’s a rescue tech. He knows what he’s doing.”

The EMT raised his hands.

From the house, Caspian ran out barking, circling Dawson. “Hey, buddy,” he said and rubbed the dog’s ears. “Who do you belong to?”

“He’s mine,” said Shep. “Can you watch him for me?”

Dawson nodded. “No problem.” He crouched in front of the dog, who licked his chin.

Huh . Maybe the dog didn’t belong to Shep after all.

The EMT shut the door. Then he went around to the front seat and climbed in.

Shep sat down on the bench.

“You were a little scary there,” London said. “Sounded like you might actually hit him.”

Shep shrugged. “I said I wasn’t a man of violence. I never said I wouldn’t use it.”

She smiled, her eyes warm in his. “You saved my life.”

“Of course I did.” He caught her hand. “Where you go, I go, London. Or Laney, or whoever you decide to be.”

“Just yours, Shep. Just yours.” Then she reached out and grabbed the front of his shirt, pulled him down, and kissed him. Sweetly, surrendering, giving herself over to him as he wrapped his arms around her and held her.

And right there, right then, he knew what it meant to fly.

* * *