Page 82 of Wrecked

She lived in Arizona and had been there her whole life.

It took a phone call and arranging a flight to get her to the hotel.

“I love the sunrises here,” Mira said.

Rebel smiled. “Me too.”

Her eyes were on him and filled with pride and he knew why.

Mira Sharp hadn’t blinked at all when Rebel had taken the plunge last night and shared with her about his past.

She held his hand and tears filled her eyes as he glossed over Tanis and Solomon, but she had known. It was some instinctual thing with mothers. They always knew.

It was there with her in his hotel room that he had spoken the truth.

Rebel had taken a breath and told her of his job as an assassin and she had spoken softly and calmly.

“You do what you must to survive,” his mother said.

“I know that, but now… it’s who I am. I’m not going to change that.”

“Do you only kill bad people?”

Rebel was surprised at the question, but nodded. “I’ve only ever killed bad people.”

“Then that’s something you can live with,” Mia murmured and for the first time since meeting her, she had put her arms around him and hugged him.

A real hug from his real mother.

And that was priceless.

One week later.

Location—Nevada

The Nightfall Drifters Ranch was just waking up when Rebel stepped outside and onto the wide wooden porch that ran the length of the main house.

What still amazed him after the week he had been there were the sunrises. Even in mid-November, the weather was warm and sunny. The nights got down into the fifties, which was different than Northridge, California, but Rebel didn’t mind it.

After the heat of the day, he rather enjoyed the cool nights.

Of course, Crow kept him warm during the night so it was all good.

Thinking of Crow, Rebel glanced back as the screen door opened.

Instead of Crow, it was Rip who stepped out. The screen door snapped shut in the quiet morning and Rip stretched.

“Morning,” Rip said.

“Mornin’.” Rebel could see why Boston was so gaga over Rip.

Rip had black hair with cool blue eyes, the complete opposite of his brother. Where Wrath was a blond hunk, Rip was a dark stud. Both men were powerful and lethal in their own right.

Nothing compared to Crow, though. Rebel recalled the fight in the hotel after they’d attacked them that night. Crow had killed man after man, slicing and dicing. The assassin had even used their own guns and weapons against them.

Seeing how skilled and deadly Crow was, he should have known Crow would live.

“I thought you were dead. I had nothing to lose and I would have killed Jimmy even if he killed me.”

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