Page 131 of Defenders of Jawhara

PJ leaned over, her head next to Keira’s on the screen. “So when are you going to marry her?”

“Annnddd, we’re done.” Tapping a button on the computer, he left the meeting room. He wasn’t interested in talking about his personal life with coworkers still in the honeymoon phase of their own relationships.

“So when are you going to marry her?” Trent asked him as the brothers got their stuff together.

“Not you too.” Slade groaned. He needed to change topics. “Where are we on new hires?”

Travis chuckled, knowing the shift was intentional, but he let it pass. “Brock is liaising with that firm out of Kuwait, and he’ll get you a list later. I’ve got a couple meetings, and I’ll let you know if I think they might be worth interviewing.”

“We need more women. With PJ and Keira providing security for Kam’s wife and Kale’s wife, we need more females onboard ASAP for other assignments. Now. Are we done?”

The brothers both laughed but got up. Trent gave him a mock salute and started backing up, but Travis handed him a bag with a bouquet of flowers in it.

Slade took the bag from him. “Ah, Travis, you shouldn’t have. Really.” Trent snorted.

“It’s not for you, asshole. Since Bethany still hasn’t said yes yet, you need to up your game.” Travis shouldered his bag and glared at him before turning to follow his brother.

Grabbing their empty cups and the flowers, Slade walked back inside. Travis was right, damn him, he did need to up his game. Pouring a cup of coffee into a large mug, he added the prerequisite milk and sugar, tucked the flowers under his arm, and left the kitchen. He stopped first at Jason’s room, but the little boy was still sleeping soundly. The kid was a trouper, that was for sure.

Closing the door again, he headed to their bedroom and found Bethany tangled in the blankets and still fast asleep. He set the coffee cup down, and her nose immediately began twitching, but she had yet to open her eyes. Opening the drawer in the nightstand, he pulled out a small box and climbed back into bed. Leaning against the headboard, he reached over to grab the coffee cup, but Bethany stopped him.

“If that’s for me, don’t you dare touch it.”

He chuckled at her husky tone. “It is, but you better hurry up before it gets cold.”

With a grumble, she sat up and reached for the coffee. Closing her eyes, she took a long sip and sat back, smiling. “I could get used to this.” She opened her eyes and squinted at him. Noticing the flowers, she asked, “What are those for?”

Picking them up, Slade pulled the bag off and handed them to her. “I’ve been informed that if I’m ever going to get you to agree to marry me, I need to up my game.” Bethany sniffed the flowers. “When we first met, we toasted to new beginnings because there’s one in every ending. With you and Jason here in San Diego, I feel like we’re at the start of our new beginning. So, Ms. Bethany Simmons, would you please do me the honor of agreeing to become my wife?” He snapped open the box displaying the engagement ring that he’d presented to her every day this past week, and every time, she’d saidnot yet. She was the reason why he had an influx of gray hairs, he was sure of it.

She took the ring out of the box and placed it on her finger. Holding her hand up, she smiled at the ring. Then, like every other day this past week, she took the ring off, put it back in the box, and started to hand it back to him. With a sigh, Slade reached to take the ring box, already contemplating how he would propose tomorrow, but she didn’t release it.

He stilled. Each with a hand on the box. He didn’t dare move. Her fingers lightly traced over the box, and she ever so slowly took it back. Slade held his breath. She rolled the closed box around in her hand and then leaned over to kiss him.

Slade instantly deepened the kiss, too hopeful to speak. Physically pushing herself away from him, she shifted to get out of bed.

“So is that a yes?” He held his breath.

Standing, she looked over her shoulder at him and smirked. “It’s a maybe. I’ll let you know later.” Walking toward the bathroom, she added, “Tell the Larson brothers good call on the flowers. You could learn a lot from them.” Without waiting for his response, she shut the bathroom door behind her, and Slade smacked his head on the headboard in frustration.

He could hear the shower start in the bathroom and as he was getting out of bed to go start breakfast, the bathroom door opened partway. The predatory smile that came across his face might have had Bethany running if she saw it. Pulling his T-shirt off, he quickly stripped off on his way to the door. Stepping into the bathroom, he could see her silhouette in the shower.

Slade would up his game all right, just like Travis suggested. She’d just given him a maybe, and he fully intended to get a yes before lunch, and he knew exactly how to do that.

EPILOGUE

Two weeks later

Trent Larson stepped into the corporate office for Guardians of the Earth and smiled at the young woman at the reception desk. She was young, cute, and earnest—just the type of girl he usually avoided. And she was on the phone at the moment, so he could evaluate her as he waited.

Her short, brown hair had a no-nonsense style, and she’d dressed in baggy jeans and an even baggier dark-green T-shirt with a peace sign on the front. She was probably a vegan who would talk a guy to death before she’d let him get as far as first base, and about the only upside he could see was that he was betting that she wasn’t wearing a bra. Slim as she was, she wouldn’t need one, and he thought he glimpsed a hint of nipple showing—the only bright point of his day.

She held up a finger, indicating that he should wait for a minute. He nodded and wandered around the open space. The La Jolla, California, location spoke of money, but the place was bare bones—polished concrete floors with no carpet, one desk, one chair that the girl had, and it smelled like the curry house next door. The only décor was posters tacked onto white walls. The place screamed ‘front’ for illegal activity and not a nonprofit eager to hook large donors.

He paused in front of a glossy photo of a boat with the words Stop the Killing! painted on the sides positioned directly in the path of a much larger fishing vessel. Gutsy move, that one. Then again, it could be Photoshop.

He ambled on to the next. Another picture showed a coal mine, but a cartoonist had added crossbones, poison symbols, and headstones in the clouds overhead. Beneath the mine, the earth had also been adorned with the words Stop Killing Me!

“Lot of stopping, lot of killing,” Trent muttered.

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