Luke's hand comes up to stroke my hair. "You okay?"
"Yeah." I pull back to look at him. "I really am."
It's the truth. My father's death still hurts—probably always will—but I've made peace with it. And Turner's gone—or in whatever hell Gabriel stuck him. The trafficking network is dismantled. The women are safe.
We won.
"Everything is so different now." I gesture to the paradise around us. "Three weeks ago, I was a deputy sheriff in Montana. Now I'm, what? A vigilante? A criminal? Someone who destroys evidence and lets cartels handle justice?"
"You're someone who saved lives," he says firmly. "You're someone who chose what was right over what was legal. There's a difference."
I tip my head, considering. "Is there?"
"Yeah, sunshine, there is." His thumb brushes my cheekbone. "The law failed those women. The system failed them. We didn't."
I think about that. About my father. About my badge. About everything I gave up. Then I think about the women we rescued. About Emma and Jake and their baby. About Lily and Mason. About Blackthorn.
About Luke.
I look into his eyes, my hand holding his face. "I don't regret any of it."
"Good." Luke's mouth curves into that slow, dangerous smile that always makes my stomach flip. "Because I'm not giving you back."
I roll my eyes. "Possessive much?"
"When it comes to you? Absolutely." He kisses me—slow and deep and claiming. I melt into him, my hands sliding up his bare chest to loop around his neck.
When he pulls back, we're both breathing harder.
"Come on," Luke says, taking my hand. "I want to show you something."
He leads me down the beach to a secluded cove I haven't explored yet. The sand here is softer, the water calmer. Palm trees provide natural shade, and someone—probably Luke—has set up a blanket and pillows.
"When did you do this?" I ask.
"This afternoon. While you were napping." He pulls me down onto the blanket beside him. "Figured we could use some privacy."
I snort. "We have an entire bungalow for privacy."
"Yeah, but the bungalow doesn't have this view." He gestures to the ocean, the sunset, the perfect isolation.
I settle against him, my back to his chest, his arms wrapped around me. We sit in comfortable silence, watching the sun sink lower.
"Hendricks called this morning," Luke says eventually.
"What did he want?"
"To check in. See how we're doing."
Right. I don’t know Hendricks well, but I’m smart enough to know the man always has an agenda. “Any word on Mandy?”
“He didn’t say one way or the other. I offered to loan him a set of handcuffs. Pink and furry, of course.”
I chuckle. Luke’s positive Hendricks has a thing for Mandy. I don’t know how he’s so sure—we haven’t seen her since she disappeared that night at Turner’s compound, though Lily’s gotten a couple cryptic messages from her sister since.
Luke's hand strokes my arm absently. "He also said the Blackthorn restoration is ahead of schedule. We should be able to go home in another week or two."
Home. Blackthorn. It still feels strange and wonderful at the same time.