Page 28 of Guarded By A Savage Shifter

She sold her story to Time Magazine and it made the cover. It was such a big story that it took down eight corrupt politicians and dozens of criminal collaborators all over the US. She had her choice of jobs, but my girl refused them all. She found her passion which was working independently to uncover big complex stories.

I would have followed my girl anywhere on the planet, but I’m glad she chose to stay on my ranch in Montana. It’s been the best year and a half of my life.

Four months ago, we had an adorable baby girl we named Kate and she’s changed our lives for the better. She has my soft brown eyes and her mother’s tenacious personality. I never thought I could love anyone as much as Gracie, but my Kate is really putting that to the test. Sometimes I feel like my heart is so full it’s going to explode.

“The award for international reporting,” the announcer says behind the podium, “goes to a bold, adventurous journalist who changed a country for the better through her daring, fearless work. Through journalism, our winner took down a violent criminal organization, freed an enslaved village, and paved the way for manufacturers to open in the area, which now provides the locals with a better way of life, including the building of new schools and a hospital. For her wonderful international reporting in El Nicanduras, the Pulitzer Prize goes to Gracie Windward.”

I stand up and holler, clapping louder than anyone else as my girl heads to the podium. Tears of pride fill my eyes as I watch her claim her prize.

I’m so proud of her. It’s no surprise that she won. Of course she did, she’s the most amazing woman on the planet.

Every time I look at her, I still can’t believe she’s mine.

“Thank you for selecting me,” she says as she takes the certificate and stands at the podium with a smile. There’s a room full of people, but she keeps looking at me.

“I just did the easy part,” she says into the mic. “I reported on what I saw. The real heroes of this story are the brave people of El Nicanduras and I dedicate this award to them.”

People clap, but no one as loud as me.

“And I would like to thank one more person,” she says with a smile. “I couldn’t have done it without my bodyguard and cameraman, Ryker Dawson. He was my rock out there and he’s become so much more. I love you, baby.”

She blows me a kiss and then hurries off the stage. I’m waiting for her with open arms. Everyone lets out a collectiveawwwas I wrap my arms around her, spin her around, and then give her a loving kiss.

“How long until this thing is over and I can get you back to our hotel room?” I whisper in her ear.

She grins with her cheeks reddening. “Too long,” she whispers back.

I sigh as I sit down at our table, counting the seconds until I can devour my delicious beauty one more time.

EPILOGUE

Gracie

Thirty Years Later…

And that’s when my brave hero stood up, wrapped his hand around Hector Contreras’ neck, and said?—

“Those glasses are really doing something for me,” Ryker says as he leans on the door of my home office, interrupting my writing time.

I laugh as I look up at him. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

He’s looking like he wants to ravage me, and I do not look cute right now. I’m in my thick wooly socks, leggings that are full of cat hair because our tabby always insists on sitting on my lap whenever I’m writing, an oversized sweater I got at a garage sale, and my hair is tied up into a messy bun that’s been slowly falling apart for the past hour. It’s barely holding together.

“Are you almost ready for a break?” he asks as he comes strutting over in his jeans and T-shirt. This man is in his latesixties, but he doesn’t look a day over fifty. He’s still as hot as ever with his big muscular body and sexy brown eyes. He can still get me going at the drop of a hat.

He sits on my desk and my body starts tingling. I know that look and I know what’s about to happen. My body does too and it’s getting all fluttery.

“I need a few minutes,” I say as I tear my eyes off him and look at my laptop screen. I’ve been writing my memoirs about all of the amazing stories and crazy adventures my career has taken me on. It’s been a wild ride and now I’m compiling all of it into a book. “I’m at the best part.”

“Which part?” he asks with a sly grin. “The ice machine?”

My cheeks get all hot as I remember that amazing moment in El Nicanduras when he made me cum for the first time. I screamed so loud they probably heard me at the front desk.

“Not the ice machine,” I say, feeling my nipples hardening as he looks at my breasts. He can’t see much with this baggy sweater covering them, but he’s probably picturing them in his mind. He’s seen them enough times over the decades that I’m sure he can make an accurate mental picture. “When you killed Hector for me.”

“I want to hear about the ice machine,” he says with a grin. “That’smyfavorite part.”

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