Epilogue

Unexpected

Lanie

The wine was flowing, the DJ was hopping, yet I couldn’t get past the feeling of doom and gloom. And it had only grown worse when I caught Waverly taking a phone call after the wedding. Whoever she was arguing with was getting the backside of her stormy attitude. I’d never been unlucky enough to be in the path of her ire, and I sure as hell never wanted to. When she gruffly said, “Give them an hour,” my hackles rose higher.

Give who an hour?

“Can I have this dance?” Noah skimmed his fingers along the back of my arm. He’d been doing that more. Touching me. Not in the “I’m your friend and fellow FBI agent” sort of way. No. This was more intimate, more personal.

And it was freaking-me-the-fuck out .

Noah and I had a past, if you could even call it that. More like one drunken night, an––almost––tumble between the sheets, except before our clothes could come off, he killed any chance of a future with his whispered, “This is a mistake.” So I was extremely confused as to why the sudden interest.

“Sure.” I held out my hand.

No words were spoken as he spun me around the dance floor. Song after song, he held me close and I let him. I was a glutton for punishment, I suppose. No one had ever come close to securing a place in my heart the way Noah did…or had. Probably never would. I was destined to be that lonely cat woman with seventeen four-legged furballs to keep me company.

“I told you an hour.” Waverly’s raised voice drew my attention and it wasn’t just mine. Everyone in the room stopped what they were doing to see what was going on.

To my utter shock, Agents Hendricks and Harty stood at the entrance of The Cottage, the hall where the reception was being held. It wasn’t actually a cottage, more like one of those gigantic homes you’d find in a mountain living magazine. But it served its purpose.

The two DEA agents looked unnerved as they searched the crowd. When their eyes landed on me, I knew the churning in my belly hadn’t been indigestion. Something was very wrong.

“What the hell is going on? You can’t just barge in here. This is my wedding for fuck’s sake.” Koen stepped in front of our RAC.

“Stand down, Agent Banks.” Hendricks raised his hands in front of him in a placating manner. “We need to talk to Lanie. The timing couldn’t be helped.”

It had been months since our undercover operation took down the West Virginia side of Los Tredos. The production and sale of Tranq Dope had come to a grinding halt after we arrested Brandon Little. As far as I knew, he was still behind bars awaiting trial. So what the hell could be so important that they had to interrupt a wedding?

I’d had enough. Storming across the room, I nudged Koen out of the way and ignored the tall, dark, and annoying man who’d become my shadow.

“What?” I put my hands on my hips. There was no playfulness in my tone, only bitter resentment. I hated everything about being undercover and there was no way in hell I was doing it again, if that’s what they were here for.

“Lanie. Brandon Little was found dead in his cell yesterday morning,” Agent Harty started. “And we intercepted communication regarding a hit the Bolotov Bratva has put out on you.”

Well, shit. That was unexpected.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Noah raged on my left.

“We want to put you in protective custody. Just for a little while,” Hendricks rushed out.

“No way.” I shook my head. “I’m a federal agent. I can protect myself.”

“Are you willing to bet your friends’ lives on that fact?” Harty added.

Damn. Low––but accurate––blow. Good thing I knew exactly the place to go.

“I’ll disappear. Go somewhere no one would ever dream of looking for me.”

“I’m going with you.” Noah spun me around, his hands gripping my biceps.

“You sure about that, friend?”

“Positive.” He dipped his chin .

“Alrighty then. Let’s pack. We’ve got a hefty drive ahead of us.”

We quickly said goodbye to our friends and prepared to go off-grid.

Like so far off-grid, the grid didn’t even exist anymore. I couldn’t help but smile as we slipped out the front door into the night.

Straitlaced Noah Anderson was about to come face-to-face with the real live Clampetts of Colorado, only worse.

So. Much. Worse.