Page 84 of Guarded from Sabotage

EPILOGUE

2 Months Later

SARAH

I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect day.

In early June, Lake George hasn’t hit full tourist season yet, so the sidewalks are peppered with a mix of seasoned locals and visiting families. Having spent the first part of my life here, I immediately notice the difference between them—the locals walking quickly towards a set destination, while the tourists meander down Canada Street, pausing every couple of minutes to peer into another storefront.

In another month, the village will be overrun by tourists visiting from downstate and central New York and Montreal, the sidewalks thick with chattering families and giggling teenagers and college students ready to celebrate the summer. It’s still nice, but I much prefer this calmer Lake George, the one that feels more like home.

On a day like today, withrealspring finally officially here, we can walk around in T-shirts and shorts without getting chilled. People who aren’t from upstate New York don’t understand how long it really takes for the last remnants of winter to fade and for the truly nice weather to arrive.

But today, it has. The sky is a clear, brilliant blue, without a single cloud to block the sun from kissing our skin. There’s a light breeze coming off the lake, just enough to keep it from getting too hot. Convertibles cruise down the street with the tops down, and all the restaurant patios are open.

The weather would be enough to make me smile, but I have so many more reasons than that.

My family. My friends. Rambo.

And most of all, Dante.

Always the protector, even in a small village like this, he’s walking close beside me with his arm wrapped around my waist. His gaze is alert as he scans our surroundings, not just looking at the variety of stores and attractions, but also searching for any possible threat. I wish he could relax a little more, but this is who he is.

He’ll never not be on guard, not after what he’s been through in the Army, and especially not after everything that happened with Tamara. Just like I’m probably always going to have some small hangups—meeting new people is harder than it used to be, and I still don’t love going places alone. And that’s okay. Like Dante says, some of the things that happen to us leave scars, and while they may never fully go away, we can learn to live with them.

With Dante supporting me, I can get through anything—nightmares, cracked ribs, the panic attack when I left Blade and Arrow for the first time alone—and come out stronger because of it.

And I’ll always be there to support him, too. Maybe I can’t be the big, strong protector, but I can protect Dante’s heart. I can reassure him when the guilt sneaks in, or when he has his own nightmares of his lost teammate and the terrible things he saw in the Army. I can be there for him when he wants to talkabout a stressful case, or his worry about his sister’s high-risk pregnancy.

She’s fine, and so is the baby. That’s one of the reasons we came out to New York, so we could see Dante’s new niece, Rosalie. Two weeks early, she’s tiny but absolutely perfect, and I’d be lying if I said my ovaries didn’t twinge when I held her.

Maybe one day. Maybe Dante and I will move beyond being mom and dad to Rambo, and become parents to a baby of our own.

I hope.

“What do you want to do next?” Dante glances down at me, smiling. “Ice cream? The wax museum? The other arcade?”

“Well…” Slowing, I step to the side so a couple pushing a stroller can move past us. “The weather is so nice, I think we should save the wax museum for another day, in case it rains. And I’m still stuffed from lunch…”

He turns me in his arms and brushes a soft kiss across my lips. “Whatever you want to do is fine with me.” He grins. “I already got to do the two things on my list. Visiting Fort William Henry and testing out the shooting gallery.”

Laughing, I say, “I think you shocked everyone in the arcade. Even the employees looked surprised.”

One of the mainstays at the Playland Arcade, the shooting gallery is an old-timey scene set with targets that move when you hit them. If the shooter’s good, the gallery buzzes with activity and noise with each successful shot.

When Dante tried it, he nailed each one. Effortlessly. Three times in a row.

By the third time, most of the people in the arcade were watching and cheering, myself included. I wish I had a video of it, because he looked so sexy—all intense and quietly dangerous—and now I’m seriously considering taking him up on the offer of shooting lessons.

“I couldn’t help showing off a little,” Dante admits, and his cheeks go pink. “Not that it was hard; I could have made those shots in my sleep. But it was pretty fun.”

“You looked sexy, too.”

“Oh?” His eyes darken. “Really? Sexy, you say?”

“Yes.” I go up on my tiptoes to kiss him. “Very sexy. All intense and dangerous. I’m rethinking those lessons you offered.”

“Anytime, beautiful.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “If you want to learn, I can teach you.”

---