I wanted to give you more with Hope Mountain Hero, but this was part of a multi-author project and we had to stick to a strict word count. Even with that, I went over by…well…too many words. 🙂
Sometime later this year or early 2022, Hope Mountain Hero will be re-released under a new title as a full length (or close to it) book in the AFK world. The plot will be basically the same, but definitely expanded, and I’ll find a way for current owners of Hope Mountain Hero to get the expanded book for a discount.
Until then, please enjoy this bonus epilogue from Hope Mountain Hero!
~~~
Hope
It’s been a week. A long, stressful, wonderful week. Wyatt hates Seattle. Or…at least he hates the noise. He says he’s fine, but Murphy doesn’t agree. The dog hasn’t left his side except to do his business.
We’re safe, though. West works a guy who owns this whole condo building, and within two hours of our arrival, we had everything we needed for the week. A bed, brand new sheets, toiletries, and an entire suitcase full of clothes for me. Oh, and a fully stocked fridge. Even premium dog food for Murphy.
I miss the outdoors, though. West and Wyatt both agreed it was safer if I stayed inside. At least there’s a private balcony. Seattle’s a heck of a lot warmer than it was at Wyatt’s cabin, and I can sit here with the sun warming my skin and drink a cup of very expensive coffee—courtesy of West.
He and Wyatt are in a condo two floors up that belongs to another member of West’s team, and I’m waiting for the guy’s wife—Cara, I think her name is—to come down with lunch.
The knock at the door isn’t unexpected, but it still sends my heart rate shooting up. I rush to the intercom and press the button. “Who…? Who is it?”
“Cara. I’m supposed to say ‘firefly.'”
Wyatt’s code.
The woman standing in the hallway has a nervous smile, and in her hands? A casserole that smells like heaven. “The guys will be another half an hour or so. But I left them with their own lasagna, so this one’s all ours.”
Lasagna. It’s been forever since I’ve had lasagna.
***
It wasn’t thirty minutes. More like three hours. But chatting with Cara over the best meal I’ve had in ages makes the time pass quicker. She’s a chef at a local restaurant, but today’s her day off. Her husband—Ripper—is a computer genius, and he’s sending all of the evidence on the memory card to the proper authorities. And making sure no one ever knows that I’m the one who did Simon’s books.
“So what are you and Wyatt are going to do once you’re safe?” Cara asks. She retrieves two bottles of iced tea from the fridge and joins me on the patio. “You’re welcome to stay here, you know. Ryker doesn’t let anyone live in this building he doesn’t trust. So it’s quiet. Safe. Secure.”
I twist the cap off the bottle of tea and take a sip. A part of me would love to stay here. But Wyatt…
“Hey? What’s wrong?” Cara leans closer, concern in her eyes. “I didn’t mean to pry.”
“No, it’s not that.” Staring out at the city, I run a hand through my hair. I’m free now. Wearing clothes that are mine. With a man who talks to me. Who listens to me. Who doesn’t yell or hit or punish me for every single word I say. A man who risked his life for me. “Wyatt hates the city.”
“So did Ripper.”
“What?” At her nod, I ask, “Then why are you living here?”
“Because this is where Ry is. And this is where he met me. He’s learned how to manage his fear. But it’s still hard for him some days. For me too. You don’t know me, but our histories aren’t completely different. I was on the run too. From two men who almost killed me.”
“I wish there was a compromise.” The waters of Puget Sound sparkle in the sun, and, my God. It’s so beautiful. “A way to live here and have the peace Wyatt needs.”
Cara’s eyes gleam, and though I only just met her, I know when someone has an idea.
“What?”
“Oh…it could be nothing. But let me talk to Ripper and the rest of the guys. Maybe we can work something out.”
***
Wyatt
While Jackson “Ripper” Richards sits across from me, staring intently at his laptop screen, West and Ryker McCabe, a huge, ugly son of a bitch with more scars and tattoos than any man I’ve ever seen, debate their next move.
“If that asshole has a second in command—beyond his head of security—Wyatt and Hope are fucked,” West says.
​Way to be positive, Sampson. ​
At least Hope isn’t in the room. Every minute I spend away from her ratchets my anxiety, and only Murphy’s steady warmth against my leg keeps me grounded. Ripper’s dog, Charlie, sits next to the computer genius with his head on the man’s thigh, and if I’m honest with myself, being in this room with these guys? It’s the most “normal” I’ve felt in two years. Outside of the time I’ve spent with Hope.
“He does.” Ripper sits back in his chair and rubs the back of his neck. It’s a gesture I’ve seen Ryker do more than once. The two of them are as close as brothers, and West considers them both family.
If we stayed…
The idea that I could be a part of something again? It’s really fucking tempting. But how the hell can I live here? In a city. With all the traffic and noises and people.
And grocery stores, restaurants, movie channels. ​
The guys are still talking, and from the look on Ripper’s face, they’re waiting for me to answer a question I didn’t hear. “Sorry. What?”
“You okay?” West asks. “You’re in another world.”
“Yeah.” Shaking off thoughts of what could be, I refocus on the men around me. “What about Arrens’ second in command?”
“Two options, I can see.” West shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans and starts to pace. “One? We take the whole crew out. At least the top level. The grunts would likely scatter to the winds without more than a gentle suggestion that they’d live longer that way.”
“And the second?” Hope doesn’t want to be responsible for all that killing. I could hide it from her, but…that doesn’t sit well with me either.
West frowns and Ryker pushes to his feet like they expect me to go batshit over their next words. This should be fun.
“We make it look like Simon and his men found Hope in Seattle and killed her. Give her a new name, fresh start, all that shit.”
I’m out of the chair like someone lit it on fire. “She just got her goddamn life back and you want to take it away—”
Ryker growls an oath, but West claps him on the shoulder. “Stand down, Ry. I’ve got this.” Turning to me, the former SEAL continues. “Arrens treated her like she was nothing. Outside of what she could do for him—keep his books and be a convenient target for his anger—she said he barely spoke to her, right?”
My anger ratchets up another dozen notches, and I stalk over to the window, Murphy on my six like glue. “She was alone. All the time.”
Trapped in that huge house. Locked in when he wanted to punish her.
“Then do you really think anyone else in that organization would give her a second thought if they found out she was dead?”
Huh. West is right. Turning back to the group, I wonder if we really could have a life here. Until another thought shoves everything else from my head. “What about the trafficking ring? We can’t let them take any more kids.”
West, Ryker, and Ripper exchange knowing glances. “We?” Ry asks. “You saying you want to stick around for a while? Help us out at Hidden Agenda?”
Shit. Where the fuck did that come from?
“Maybe. I need to talk to Hope. Can we table this for the night?” Suddenly, the idea of spending another second away from her makes my skin crawl. I know she’s with Ripper’s wife. Only two floors away. In a secured building. But we’re talking about taking her life away. At least the life she had before Simon.
“Go back to her,” West says. “We’ll keep working for a while if you come to a decision. I want every single member of that organization tagged and flagged. One way or another, that trafficking ring is going down before the end of the week.”
***
Hope and Cara are sitting out on the balcony when I code myself back into the unit we’ve co-opted as our own for the time being. There’s nothing personal in the space, but it’s still starting to feel like we belong here. Like…this could be a home.
“I should get back to Rip,” Cara says. “You know where I am if you need anything.” The two women hug, and though there’s a hint of fear in Hope’s eyes, her smile is genuine.
“Thanks for the lasagna. I’m totally going to sneak a piece at 2:00 a.m. Or…in ten minutes.” Once we’re alone, I wrap my arms around Hope and hold her close. “What is it?” she asks.
“The guys have a plan. Two of them, actually. But both of them are dangerous, and you’re the one who has to decide what happens next.”
***
Lying in bed with Hope in my arms? It feels so right. She’s been quiet most of the night, and I can’t draw her out of her shell. She shouldn’t have to bear all this pressure on her own. Or…at all. But there’s no other way.
“What do you want, Wyatt?” Her voice is quiet. Small. Afraid.
“I want to be with you, darlin’. Wherever that is. Whatever that entails. But even more…I want you to be happy. If you need time alone to heal? I’ll leave. Go back to my cabin and install a phone line so you can reach me any time. Day or night. Or I’ll move into the unit next door to this one so I’m close but not…here. All you have to do is tell me what you need.”
“You’re too good to be true.” She trails her fingers over my chest, and I’m hard for her in less than ten seconds. “If I…died—if Ripper made Hope Raines disappear—what would happen to my mom? My uncle? Would I have to find a new career? Be someone totally different?”
“No. We’d—they’d—put an end to the whole ring. With Simon and his head goons dead, the second level generals? They don’t have the connections to keep the ring going from jail. Or enough pull to call for a hit on a woman the government says is dead. As long as you don’t plan on becoming a movie star…you could still work in finance. Talk to your mom. Might need to make sure any meet-ups are at a secure location, but…”
“I’ll do it.” Pushing up on an elbow, she stares down at me with tears in her eyes. “I want to be free, Wyatt. Even if that means I have to change my name. But…”
Skimming my thumb along her cheek, I dash away a single teardrop. “No buts, darlin’. Whatever you need, you’ll have. Because I love you.”Â