Epilogue

Six Months Later

Ryder touched the back of his wedding ring with his thumb and lightly stroked it. The weight felt foreign, but it had been a matter of hours since Langley had slipped it on his finger. They'd gotten married outdoors at sunset, and although it was dark now, the ambassador's Palm Beach estate, especially the exterior, was lit up like Times Square. And filled with about the same amount of people.

In a minute or two, he'd have to go back to mingling, but Ryder needed a break. He thought he was well-hidden in the shadows of an outdoor pavilion, but Griff found him anyway .

"There are too many people," his buddy groused.

"I know." Ryder estimated there were eight hundred guests. Coming home from a mission and immediately being surrounded by this enormous crowd made him edgy, and he'd needed to keep his focus on Langley to make it through the ceremony.

"How long do you think we can hide?"

Ryder shrugged. "You can get away with it longer than I can."

"True, but—"

Stony arrived and gave Griff a hard stare. "Teammates are supposed to have each other's backs, asshole."

"I am looking out for you, dude. You have a hot blonde who wants you for a no-strings-attached fuck. I didn't want to get in the way."

Rowland clearly didn't buy the innocent act. "You know I'm not interested in her."

"No, you're interested in throwing your career away on some chick you met in Puerto Jardin." Griff had a whole lot of Boston in his voice when he said that.

Ryder shifted, trying to determine if he needed to play peacemaker, but Stony went chill. "I made the decision to leave the Army before I ever saw her. "

"It was a damn stupid decision and now you're making another one."

"Griff has a point," Ryder interjected. "You're going to turn up on the doorstep of a woman who didn't tell you where she lives and believes you're a gunrunner. That's not the smartest idea you've ever had."

"She'll call the cops," Griff added.

"No, she'll shoot me herself." Rowland's lips curved.

"For fuck's—"

"Ryder," his mother called as she approached and they went silent. When she reached his side, she said, "You need to cut in."

He turned his attention to the dance floor. If he'd been asked, Ryder would have wagered that the orchestra hired for the reception wouldn't know a polka, but they were playing Roll Out the Barrel and it wasn't only his family out there hopping around. "Cut in on who, Ma?" he asked.

"Your father's dancing with Langley. She's going to overdo it."

Ryder searched until he spotted his bride. She'd gotten rid of the veil between the ceremony and the reception, but he found her as soon as the dancers parted. "Dad's going half speed. She'll be fine."

His mother made a noise that was a cross between a snort and a huff. "You were away. You have no idea what Langley went through in physical therapy to be able to walk without a limp. Your dad is going to push her too hard."

He'd been out of the country for five months and had only returned nine days ago. Before his team had left, his parents had met Langley and been concerned Ryder was making a mistake. He'd come home to discover his mom and dad now considered his hellcat one of the family and his mother was more protective of her than she was of him, her youngest son.

"Ma," Ryder said patiently, "Dad hovers over Langley worse than you do. He won't do anything to hurt her." But he kept his eyes on her, making sure he didn't see any sign of pain until the song ended.

His three great aunts—he and his brothers had always called them the gargoyles—waved at Langley and his dad escorted her over to them. "See? You worried for nothing."

That earned him "the look" and Ryder immediately straightened, almost coming to attention. "You need to stop hiding and talk to people," she admonished. "I raised you to be polite." His mom walked away, but the rigidity of her back told him she'd return breathing fire if he didn't get his ass out there and mingle.

"You guys coming?" he asked Griff and Stony.

"No." Rowland shook his head .

"Hell, no," Griff said at the same time.

Ryder was halfway to the dance floor when three of his Polish uncles hollered a song request at the orchestra. " In Heaven There is No Beer! " Immediately, his Italian relatives countered with their own demand, trying to outshout the other uncles. " Tarantella! Tarantella! "

Fucking hell, he'd known his family couldn't stay on their best behavior the entire night. The yelling escalated as more relatives got involved. Before Ryder could figure out how to minimize the scene they were causing, his grandmothers came to the rescue. Nonna and Busia asked for a big band era song, and after a quelling look at their children, danced to Moonlight Serenade . Watching the two eighty-somethings dancing together made him smile. Thank God for the matriarchs.

The reprieve wouldn't last forever, though, and Ryder switched course toward the bar. He needed fortification before the next incident. He was nearly to his goal when he noticed Brett Taggart was in line. It was tempting to change direction, but he forced himself to join the lieutenant. "Taggart," he said, trying not to grit his teeth.

"Pienkowski." The man didn't sound any more enthusiastic than Ryder had.

As they stood, ignoring each other, Ryder realized their relationship couldn't continue to be antagonistic. With a grimace, he said, "Lieutenant, I know we got off on the wrong foot, but I hope we can put that behind us and find common ground."

"Why?" The suspicion wasn't veiled.

"Because our wives are best friends, and if our animosity causes a wedge between Langley and Sarah, there'll be hell to pay." Ryder's lips quirked. "I'd prefer not to face my wife's wrath."

"You're afraid of your wife?"

"Hell, yeah. Aren't you afraid of yours?"

Arching an eyebrow, Taggart drawled, "Never."

Ryder didn't bother to call him on the blatant lie. "Truce?" He held out his hand.

"Truce," he agreed and they shook hands.

When they both had a bottle of beer, Taggart asked, "You like this bullshit, Pienkowski?" He gestured out toward the throng.

"Call me Ski. No, I hate the bullshit, but I want Langley, and it's part of the deal, lieutenant."

Taggart grunted. "It's Tag. Did you know the commander over all of Special Operations is here?"

Ryder scowled. "Yeah. General Wolfe and my father-in-law are friends from way back."

"Fuck."

"I know. "

Sarah joined them then, her red hair a bright contrast against the dark purple of her dress. "Brett, would you get me a glass of white wine, please?"

The look she shared with her husband made Ryder tense and brace himself.

Sure enough, as soon as Taggart was out of earshot, she rounded on Ryder. "You hurt Langley."

"Six months ago," he said, but she ignored him.

"You made her cry. Langs never cries. She might have forgiven you because she loves you, but I'm not that easy to win over, and I'm keeping my eyes on you. If you hurt her like that again, you'll be dealing with me. Got it?"

"Yes, ma'am." He kept it at that because she wouldn't believe any assurances he gave her.

"About her getting shot—"

"I'll do a better job protecting her in the future," Ryder interrupted.

"Good," Sarah said with a sharp nod. "Make sure you do."

Langley's arrival saved him from more scolding. As her arm went around his waist, she said, "Your great aunts are the sweetest things!"

"The gargoyles? Sweet?"

She frowned at him. "They've done incredible things in their lives. The next time I go to Cleveland, they're going to show me pictures from some of their adventures."

Taggart returned with Sarah's wine and Langley looked up at him expectantly. "What would you like, hellcat?" Ryder asked.

"Manhattan, please."

"Be right back." And he kissed her forehead because her accent was too fucking sexy—okay, she was too fucking sexy—and went to get her drink.

Smiling, Langley ignored the throbbing in her leg. She might have overdone it the tiniest little bit, but she only intended to get married once and she planned to enjoy herself. "The amethyst color looks fabulous on you, Sarah," Langley said.

"And the slit in the skirt is high enough that I can run if I need to." Sarah raised both eyebrows.

Langley's smile broadened to a grin. "That's why I bought an A-line dress without a train and chose one-inch kitten heels." Her wedding gown was beautiful with a sleeveless, illusion bodice, but it wouldn't have been her first choice if she hadn't been kidnapped six months ago. "But we shouldn't need to run tonight. Brett's here," she turned her smile on him momentarily, "we have a plethora of Army Special Forces present, and Dad hired security."

"And some of the guests brought their own bodyguards." Brett's voice was dry.

With a shrug, Langley said, "The royal family doesn't go anywhere without their own security, and foreign heads of state get secret service protection while they're in the US. We have several prime ministers and presidents in attendance."

His face remained expressionless, but Langley had learned to read that special kind of neutral that operatives donned.

"What can I say? My parents know people."

An elderly Taiwanese couple came up to her to say good night. Sarah and Brett excused themselves and Langley thanked the couple in Mandarin for flying out for her wedding, chatting with them briefly before they departed. She had about thirty seconds alone before Ryder returned and handed her the drink.

Smiling her thanks, she took a sip.

"Is it too early for us to get out of here?" he asked, sliding an arm around her waist.

"Much too early," Langley said.

"That's what I thought. I love you, hellcat, but today has been overwhelming."

Her heart clenched in her chest before it resumed beating. "The wedding?"

"Marrying you was the highlight of my life." Ryder gently squeezed her waist. "This crowd of people, though…" He shook his head. "You know I'm edgy for a while when I get home, and I haven't been back long enough to completely settle in. This crowd is hard."

After another sip, she leaned into Ryder's side, letting him take some of her weight. "I'm sorry."

Ryder pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Do you think we can sneak off for a few minutes alone?"

An ambassador's daughter didn't sneak away when there were duties to perform. "Let's do it."

Without another word, Ryder took her glass and put it down on a table before clasping her hand and leading her away from the guests. She'd expected to have to hurry to keep up with him, but his pace matched hers and it told her that he was aware of exactly how much her leg hurt her tonight. They were stopped several times along the way, but at last they reached a secluded part of the grounds. The sound of voices, of music seemed distant here.

Ryder wrapped her an embrace and said, "Alone at last."

Langley rested her hands on his shoulders. "We might have five minutes."

"I'll take what I can get." He kissed her slow and sweet. "I needed that."

"Mmm," she hummed. "Me, too."

"How long do we have to hang around? "

It was hard to speak while Ryder stroked her back, but she managed to say, "Midnight."

"Is your leg going to hold up that long?"

"Of course." Langley paused. She didn't have to pretend with him. "It'll help, though, if you stay close at hand so I can lean on you from time to time. It's throbbing."

"I'll stick like glue." Ryder pressed his lips to her temple. "And if anyone tries to dance with you, I'll act possessive and glare."

"That should do it." Even with his hair cut short as it was today, Ryder could appear seriously frightening when he wanted. "When we get to St. Lucia, we won't have to go anywhere or do anything unless we feel like it."

"Another reason to look forward to the honeymoon."

Langley leaned back far enough to see the amusement on his face, and it hit her how much she'd missed him while he'd been away. "I'm glad you're safely home," she said.

His expression became more somber. "So am I. I love you, Langley."

"I know. I love you, too."

Ryder kissed her again, this time with so much feeling, she could do nothing except cling to him.

"Ew! Gross!"

"Yeah, gross!"

They separated and Langley saw two of Ryder's nephews standing there. The little one had his hands over his eyes, but his fingers were far enough apart that he could peek.

Before she or Ryder could ask what they were doing here, the older boy said, "Everyone's looking for you."

"Someone wants to give you toast," the younger piped up, lowering his arms.

Langley shared a glance with Ryder. "Okay," he said, "we'll be right there."

That was all the boys needed. They took off running, the younger of the two shouting, "Grandma, we found ‘em."

"That wasn't five minutes," Ryder complained softly. His arm went around her waist as they walked back to the hub of the reception.

"It's difficult for the bride and groom to slip away at their wedding."

"Yeah." They walked in silence for a bit before Ryder said, "After we return from St. Lucia, the team's having a get together, a send-off for Stony. Think you'll be up to it?"

It was the first time he'd invited her to hang out with his friends. Initially, she'd been dealing with her injury and then Ryder had been off on assignment. To her embarrassment, her throat tightened as emotion swamped her. This felt as monumental to her as their wedding—maybe more so in some ways .

"Of course," Langley said, voice slightly thick. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

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Zofia Parker knows smuggling priceless relics out of a war-torn country is a hazardous job. So it's not a surprise to find herself on the run with the Disk of the Gods, an ancient artifact on everyone's wish list. Losing her passport and phone complicates her escape, but she has an ace in the air, winging his way to her rescue. She might just make it out of this mess alive—if she can stay one step ahead of the government brute squads and ruthless criminals chasing her. And if she can find a way to rendezvous with the ex-Special Forces soldier hellbent on saving her.

Finn Rowland doesn't have time for bogus government charges and a stint in a Puerto Jardinese jail. Not when his woman is on the run. Not when she's in danger. But escaping is the easy part. Finding Zo and getting her out of the country before one of the factions trailing her closes in for the kill will require him to return to the world of covert ops. He's walking a tightrope without a net and one misstep could cost him his life. And the life of his woman.

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