Page 7 of Austen

Had restored it himself, back when he’d had time for things like that.

He should restore something else, probably.Air out his head from the tangle of intrigue woven by his we’re-the-good-guys contact—a guy who went by the code name Texas.Texas had been the one to first suggest he sell to the Russians.Keep your enemies close.

Yeah, too close.Now Declan had to fix the mess.

The air cut through his hair, his linen shirt, the shocks terrible as he drove down the rutted dirt road into town.In the two months since the devastating landslide, they’d bulldozed the rubble, reconstructed a road through town, and now as he entered the outskirts, new construction evidenced the rebirth and resilience of the town.

And soon there would be a new trauma center, thanks to Tia Pepper and Doyle Kingston, his new secret weapons.Last he’d seen them, a month ago when he’d returned to Minnesota, they were finally dating too.

About time.

He’d tried to track down Steinbeck, his former bodyguard, who’d left him for the States after being shot a couple months ago.But he hadn’t yet been able to connect with him.Which felt weird.

He had a plan to fix that too.

He slowed as he motored through town, past the new bank and the street vendors, hardy folks who still sold doubles—delicious flatbread filled with chickpeas—patties, and of course, conch fritters.

His stomach growled.But he’d have a decent dinner on the yacht, and Camille would murder him if he filled up.

That’s what he got for hiring a French chef.But he wanted this voyage...Well, he wantedso muchout of this voyage.Nothing could go wrong.

He pulled up to his private dock, waved at the camera, and the gate opened.Driving in, he parked at the small dock house and dropped the keys into the hands of Diego, his chauffeur.“Park her in the garage.They’ll take the Jeep to the orphanage.”

Diego nodded.Good kid.He was one of the oldest orphans rescued out of the terrible aftermath of the hurricane five years ago.Now he had a wife, a kid on the way, a home, and a job.Declan patted him on the shoulder, then headed out to the dock.

The seaplane sat secured, the pilot gassing up, the passengers already out, helping unload their gear.

“Doyle!”

The dark-haired man, dressed in a T-shirt and cargo shorts, loafers, turned and raised a hand.Doyle sported a hint of a beard too.

The woman with him, Tia, also turned.Dark hair pulled back into a messy bun, hazel-green eyes, and a tan, the woman smiled, waved.“Declan!”She picked up a satchel, put it on her shoulder, and reached for a rolling bag, but Doyle grabbed it from her.

Huh.So maybe she wasn’t the boss of him anymore.

Declan came up to her, gave her a kiss on one cheek, then the other.“You look fantastic.”

“All that time on Conrad’s sailboat.”She glanced at Doyle.“And Doyle just had to volunteer as a soccer coach for the last month, so I sat in the sun a lot.”

“Oh no, that’s on her.She’s the one who hooked me up with EmPowerPlay, her family’s charity.I had no choice.”He glanced at Tia, grinning.

Oh yes, definitely together.

“Glad to have you both back.”He reached for one of the rolling bags.

“Just in time for Jamal and Kemar to have their court hearing?”Doyle asked as he followed.

“In a couple weeks.I’m heading up to the Keys to pick up the Jamesons.Hunter and Elise are excited.And by the way, I heard from the Scotts.They finished their home study, so I think we’ll be scheduling Lucia’s court date soon too.”He glanced back at Doyle.“Three down, forty to go.”

“And I’ve landed a couple scholarships for Gabriella and others who might want to go on to college,” Tia said, looking back at them.“But the biggest project is the trauma center.We got Compassion Corp to put up the initial payment—enough to get the plans drawn up and break ground.”

“I knew hiring you two was a brilliant move.”He reached the end of the dock, where Diego waited.

“Ranger is on his way, sir,” Diego said.

“Ranger is still here?”Doyle said, carrying his suitcase to the Jeep, now pulled up in the gravel drive.

“He goes back and forth, but yes, he’s been instrumental in helping organize all the cleanup.”Declan spotted the man now, headed toward the truck.Tall, with dark-brown hair, he dressed in a T-shirt withJones, Inc.written across the chest, a pair of lightweight pants, boots, and he still bore the swagger and build of the SEAL he’d once been.Declan had gotten to know him and his story over a few dinners and late-night street grub.

---