Page 118 of Perfect Order
I lean over to accept his kiss, even as my mind briefly touches on the memories of what happened when I got released from the hospital. Then I can focus on nothing but the heat of his lips.
And I damn well know my sister would approve of that and the three-carat ring sparkling on my left hand he slid on there for my birthday—almost two years to the day I found my sister’s murderers.
After I was released from the hospital, it was a media circus with the press insinuating I was living my sister’s life for glory—nothing more. There was a resurgence of the story about Beckett’s past, that I truly did hack in for that information. And despite the very vocal protests that wasn’t the case, we all stood together to fight that battle once again.
Thorn was out of his mind that what should have been him strolling in to declare the matter open-and-shut, wasn’t. He argued with the New York State attorney general about the fact that yes, while I did technically live my sister’s life, I did so with the knowledge of the key people who were instrumental in that life—as well as key people in the US federal government. Mentally, I gave him a high five for reminding the AG of his most salient point. “She didn’t accept any monies that weren’t hers to begin with.”
But the AG wouldn’t let me off scot-free. “It’s a horrible circumstance, and I appreciate the justification. But all of you should have had encouraged Ms. Miles to go directly to the police. At the very least, come straight to me.”
“And wind up dead?” I argued myself in his office, peeling away my shirt barely two weeks after I was shot with a wince—deliberately exposing where the bullet from the gun Linus shot me with left a plate-size bruise. “The police closed my sister’s death with a nominal investigation.”
“I’ve reviewed their files, Ms. Miles. They believed they had the correct information.”
“And they were wrong. Even if it had been me lying on that ground, there’s no way this would have been open-and-shut. If it wasn’t for the fact the company I own has extensive classified contracts with the federal government, setting off the need for certain agencies to investigate my own ‘death’ and choosing to keep that information I was alive quiet, my sister’s killers would still be on the loose. Your nose is just out of joint because you weren’t one of the ones in the know.”
His face turned a lovely shade of puce, but I plowed on. “No one in local law enforcement was acting as though Kylie’s death was more than a simple mugging. And by not realizing they had the wrong sister, it was almost too late to stop them a second time. A third time. A fourth time.”
He winced at my harsh words that were no less than the truth. Still, he tried again. “I am obligated to defend the law I too was sworn to uphold as it’s written.” Thorn began spouting words to defend my choices. He held up a hand. “But there are mitigating circumstances I can and will take into account.”
And he did.
Our two years has evolved with love, healing, with spurts of uncomfortable reality thrown in. Wildfire Records spent the first few months publicly supporting my actions and mourning the loss of one of music’s greatest voices—earning my eternal gratitude and devotion to Kristoffer Wilde. The attorney general was of course stressing the fact I should never have taken justice into my own hands, leaving the agency out of it. But in the end, we all accomplished what we could to seamlessly transition Kylie from front-page news to allow those of us who loved her most time to grieve. It’s given us time to restore emotional order to our lives when we’ve barely had any in almost eighteen months.
I was more pissed off because the agency didn’t have my back—all due to the fact Thorn never cleared our mission since I was dead. “What the hell do you mean we weren’t sanctioned?” I shouted at him in his office in an undisclosed location in the Metro DC area.
“You were dead. You said it yourself the first day. You’d signed your own death certificate. What the hell was I supposed to do,Q?za?” Thorn growled. “Besides, you’re not the only one who has to pay.”
“Aw, you poor baby. Did the director take a bite out of you too?”
“The hell with you, Leanne. Next time, I’ll leave you dead.”
I walked around his massive desk and gripped one of his massive biceps. Knowing his wife as well as I do since she helped me design the specs for my office in Saratoga Springs, I felt no qualms about leaning up and pressing my lips against his cheek. “No. You’d do exactly the same thing. Thank you, Parker—for everything.”
He grumbled under his breath before he flung out an arm. “Get out of my office and let me get back to the donkey work I’ve been assigned.”
As soon as I reached an open terminal just outside his office, I logged in and wrote a detailed report to the director informing him that if it wasn’t for the dedication of my boss, not only would I have been assassinated but Dioscuri would be compromised. After sending it off, I left.
Parker called me two days later to thank me, but he informed me that for the good of public relations, “Your public punishment has to remain,Q?za.”
“Absolutely.” I’m still not certain how I kept my tone serious.
“I’m not kidding! The director is dead set on using one of us to make an example.”
“Oh, I believe you, Thorn.” The minute I hung up, I laughed my ass off.
“What’s so funny?” Kane asked from the doorway as he made his way over to the couch in my home office.
I loftily told him that since the director knocked my personal clearance down a peg that, “It will only last until Thorn needs me to install an update on Dioscuri. Just watch. Then everything will be restored back to the way it was.”
“You’re too full of cock and sass,” he declared, wrapping his arms around me.
I snuggled my hips against his. His shaft stirred to life, causing me to purr. “Not nearly full enough.”
Those were the last words I spoke for a while that night.
And a few weeks later, I was proven right when Thorn texted me with a critical software update. My work life went back to normal with the exception of my informing Thorn I was permanently done with being a field operative. “From that standpoint, consider me still dead.”
Even years later, I can still hear his laughter ringing in my ear—such a rare, sweet sound.
