Page 83 of Fast Justice

With a soft kiss on her shoulder Malcolm withdrew gently and rinsed them both off. He even dried her off, spending extra time on her hair, dropping tender kisses all over her face. But the best part was when he gathered her close once more and carried her to his bed, where he drew her into his arms and pulled the covers over them both.

Boneless, utterly relaxed, she draped herself over him, her body all but melting into his. She yawned, head on his solid shoulder, his heart beating inches below her cheek. Today had been a nightmare in so many ways. She was so damn lucky it had ended this way.

“I knew you’d come for me,” she whispered in the darkness, breathing in the scent of soap and the man she loved more than anything.

Even in the bleakest hour when all seemed lost, she’d known that whether she was alive or dead, Malcolm would find her. That he would take care of her, no matter what. It had given her courage, and also a measure of peace that had startled her.

His arms tightened around her and he kissed the top of her head. “Always, sweetness. I’ll always be there for you.”

She smiled against his skin, the vow reverberating deep inside her, like the pitch of an internal tuning fork. “I love you.”

He made a gruff sound that might have been a groan of gratitude. “God, I love you too.”

He was finally hers again. But the best part was, this time she was his in return.

All of her, body and soul.

Epilogue

“Shall we say grace?”

At Pops’s question that wasn’t a question at all, but rather a command, Mal reached his left hand out to Gram, and his right to Rowan. Meeting her gaze, he gave her a little smile as they all joined hands around the old wooden table that had been in the house since before he’d come to live there, and bowed their heads.

“Heavenly father, thank you for the food before us, the family beside us, and the love between us,” Pops said. “Amen.”

“Amen,” everyone chorused.

“Oh, I love that,” Rowan murmured, smiling over first at Pops, then Mal.

She squeezed his hand before letting go and he slid his onto her knee, pushing the hem of her skirt a few inches up her bare thigh so he could sweep his thumb over her silky skin. She darted a warning look at him and grabbed his hand, but he kept it right where it was. Any excuse he got to touch her, he was taking it.

“One of my favorites,” Pops said. “Short and sweet. So, Rowan,” he said as he helped himself to the bowl of mashed potatoes. “I understand you’ve been through a tough time lately. How are you doing now?”

Mal mentally winced at Pops’s blunt question and squeezed her thigh gently in silent apology. Pops had a big heart, except he wasn’t always necessarily tactful in his delivery.

But he should have known Rowan would handle it with grace and poise. “That’s one way to put it, yes,” she answered evenly, not seeming at all offended. “I’m doing pretty well, I think. It’s been an eventful and trying few weeks, but I was fortunate to have Malcolm there to stand by me through everything. I don’t know what I would have done without him.” She gave him a private smile, her heart shining in her eyes, and it filled his whole chest with warmth.

The eight days since the incident had been a whirlwind of interviews, appointments and meetings with various agency personnel and other investigators. Montoya and Nieto were both still in the wind, despite an ongoing manhunt.

Though Rowan had faced most of this past week alone while Mal was with his team, she’d done so bravely, facing it all head on. And at night, it was his privilege to hold her close in the darkness, be there for her through the bad dreams and the insomnia.

The Ruiz trial was scheduled to begin in another month, and Mal had managed to get the weekend off to bring her up here. He’d wanted to get her away from everything, but also to meet the people he loved the most, besides her and his teammates.

“Well we’re just glad everything worked out and that Malcolm has brought you here to visit us,” Gram said, shooting her husband a warning look and jabbing him in the ribs with a sharp elbow.

“What?” Pops said, all surprised innocence. “What are you jabbing me for, woman?”

“It’s her first visit, John, and that’s hardly dinner table conversation, let alone the kind of question to be asking her right now after all she’s been through.” Smoothing out her expression, Gram turned a warm smile on Rowan. “Sorry about that, dear. You just ignore him and talk with Malcolm and me.”

Rowan hid a grin behind her napkin, covered a chuckle with a cough before lowering it back to her lap, clearly having figured out who really wore the pants around here. Pops liked to think he was head of the household, but only because Gram allowed him to believe it. “It’s fine, really.”

“Well why can’t I ask her?” Pops argued, glaring at Gram now. He gestured at Malcolm. “He brings her home, that means it’s serious, so I want to get to know her. How am I supposed to get to know her without asking real questions?”

Gram jabbed him again with her elbow, making Pops’s eyebrows shoot up. “Pass the gravy, Malcolm dear. Rowan, try this meatloaf. It’s Malcolm’s favorite.”

“It’s the glaze. She makes it every time I come home,” Mal said, and passed it over to Rowan. “Maybe we can have that conversation later on tonight, Pops,” he said to his grandpa, smothering his own grin. His grandparents were a trip. Almost fifty years together and they never lost their devotion to one another.

Pops scowled and stabbed a bite of meatloaf, shoving it into his mouth. “Didn’t mean anything by it.”

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