Coming for You (Dirty, Dark, and Deadly 3)

“One day, Harper. We’ll go back. But for now, we deserve some time alone. Don’t you think?”

I smile as I sit up and buckle in to get ready for the landing. “Tell me about it again, James. I’m lost in the dream of small town family and friends. So tell me again what we’re doing.”

“We’re starting over, lionfish. Two people, one life. We’ve got sixty foot sailboat in Miami. Just waiting for us to set her loose in the Caribbean.”

I picture it. I picture sailing through paradise with my husband. I don’t think about before anymore. I did at first, back when things were still raw and the memory of that night still fresh. My hear hurt for Nick.

But I let it go. I let him go. He wanted to take that path in life, and it’s not up to me to stop him.

And James is right. Now that Sasha has a new life, we deserve one too.

“We’ll spend every day in the sun,” he says softly as the landing gear detracts and our new life gets close. “And every night we’ll watch it set. We’ll explore beaches, and reefs, and each other. We’ll sail across the ocean in the spring and be in Australia for the summer solstice. We’ll see Sasha and her new family then. We’ll see how much happier Sasha is. How she’s moved on. And then we’ll sail back. Or find new places to explore. And when we get tired of that. Or bored. We’ll start talking about the future. Long term plans, Harp. Babies and houses and best friend kind of stuff. When we’re ready to settle, we’ll carve that life out for ourselves when it’s time. But don’t rush it. Don’t be too eager to get the happy ending, Harper. Because getting there is the fun part.”

“Yeah,” I agree as the plane touches down. “It’s the journey that counts. Not the destination.”

“Unless the destination is bed. With you.”

I press my face into his neck and take him in. He might be crazy. And he’s definitely dangerous. But I like him this way. And I can’t think of a single regret for how we got to be in this moment right now.

Harrison taxies down the runway as I look out the window at Florida. After we stop, and Harrison’s crew opens the jet to let us out, James has to lower his trademark shades down his face.

Because we walk right out into the sunset.

Epilogue Two

Sasha - Ten years later

Denver International Airport

“Miss Aston?” The man is tall, wearing a dark suit, and has the look that screams government.

And suddenly, ten years of manners and settling are washed away. “Who’s asking?”

“I’m Special Agent Jax, Miss Aston. And I have a few questions for you. Please come with me.”

“Am I under arrest for something?” Fuck. He leads me through a set of double doors, and then another door, and then another door, until I’m three layers deep inside the fucking Denver International Airport. We finally come to a small office, where he waves me in and says, “Please, take a seat.”

I take my seat. Just be cooperative, Sasha, Ford tells me in my head. We’ve covered my tracks well since he adopted me ten years ago. But we’ve always planned for the day when people discover my history is a lie.

“Am I under arrest?” I ask again.

“No, ma’am,” he says. “I just need to ask you some questions, if that’s OK.”

“What if it’s not OK? What if I want to call my dad?”

He sits down at the table opposite me and opens up a folder. “You are Sasha Aston, correct?”

“You know I am. I just got off that plane. So I was checked in.”

“You came from…”

“Peru.” I fill in the blank for him.

“What was your business in Peru, might I ask?”

“I was at an archeological dig. They found bones.”

“Bones?”

“Dinosaur bones. I’m a paleontologist. Well, a grad student. It was a summer internship. Why?”

He looks at me for a moment. “Impressive. And your father is Rutherford Aston IV?”

“Yes.” I swallow hard. Jesus Christ, we are totally busted for something. “I need to know what’s going on. You’re scaring me. Did something happen to my dad?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Stop calling me ma’am. I’m twenty-four and you look like you’re about thirty.”

He eyes me down the bridge of his nose. “Thirty? I don’t look thirty. I’m twenty-seven.”

“What?” I have to shake my head at that. “What do you want, Special Agent Jax? If I’m not under arrest, then I’m leaving.”

He flips the page in the folder just as I stand up, and produces a photograph that steals all my breath away.

“Do you know this man, Miss Aston? Can you identify him for us?”

I shake my head as I study Nick’s face. His perfect face. The blond hair, the brown eyes. The steely gaze. I can picture him smiling at me in that hotel room in Rock Springs. Live your life, he told me. “Never seen him before,” I say, lying right to Special Agent Jax’s face. “Why?”

“Take another look, Miss Aston. How about this one?”

This time, Nick is shirtless. His whole body is covered in tattoos. His chest, his arms, his neck. And when I look closely, even his hands have tattoos on them.

I shake my head again. “No, sir. Sorry.”

“Hmmm,” Jax says. “Well, that’s interesting, Miss Aston. Or should I call you Miss Cherlin?”