The officer unlocks the door to let Hunter in to cuff me, but he mutters, “Your funeral, man.”

  The idea that he thinks Hunter can’t cuff me by himself gives me a small bit of twisted joy. Even down and broken, I’m strong.

  Chapter 27

  Connor

  Poppy is asleep on the floor of the cell when we come out of the captain’s office. Hunter tells me to trust him and that he’ll do right by her, but I know I’m not going to see her for a while. I have to take a step back while Hunter handles things. That’s his job . . . he’s my handler when I’m undercover. And closing this huge case could be career-making for both of us. But that doesn’t matter when I see Poppy curled up on her side, fast asleep.

  She’s right. I did that to her.

  Before that dinner, she was a successful writer with a little bit of writer’s block, living her best life. And now . . . she’s fighting to stay on steady ground at every turn and still getting blind-sided.

  By me.

  Worst of all, I know she still hasn’t finished her fucking book. At least I could have let her do that.

  I’ve wanted to tell her the truth for so long. Since that first night over pizza, I wanted to let her in. I knew I could trust her, could confide in her. But that’s not the gig, and I know it. This isn’t my first rodeo, dealing with the stress of this life. I’ve lived a series of lies for so long that sometimes it's hard to remember where the truth ends and the lies begin . . . or if they’re all the same thing.

  All I’ve been able to focus on is the job and the adrenaline. And then I found her. I remember every smile and frown, every secret shared, and everything I felt. Feel. Everything I . . . feel.

  I hate to do it—it physically pains me—but I walk out of the police station to my truck and leave her there. I have to trust that Hunter will stick to his word and get her out of there.

  As I walk up to my truck, I remember something . . . or someone.

  JP was supposed to be waiting in the truck with Poppy when we got here, but he didn’t come in with her and the truck is empty. My gut sinks, and I scan the parking lot, looking for any sign of trouble. Cautiously, I open the door and get in, checking to make sure he hasn’t lain down in the back seat to hide and fallen asleep like Poppy did. But no.

  I don’t see JP anywhere, but I find a scribbled note on the back of a receipt sitting on the console.

  Do not look for me. I told you what I know. I am taking my family somewhere we can be safe. We have started over before, and we can do it again. Be well, my friend.

  I clench the note in my hand, crumpling the paper. I look around once more, hoping to see JP somewhere nearby. The truth is that people will keep looking for him. Men like Hunter, who deserves his first name in many ways. But part of me hopes that there are always going to be bigger fish to fry than Juan Pablo. I meant it when I told him that men like me and him are minnows, and the people in power want the big fish.

  When I don’t see him, I say out loud, “You too, my friend. Be well.”

  I hope that somehow, he hears me.

  I go to Poppy’s place to let Nut and Juice out. They jump on my legs, but when I give them a few pets, they do eventually piss in the grass. Back inside, I get to work. I have a lot to do while Hunter closes this case.

  Poppy

  “Are you sure he’s gone?” I ask Hunter. I pat my pockets, but I’m out of gum, and my mouth feels nasty. “Gimme some gum.”

  Hunter fishes a few pieces out of his pocket and passes a stick over. He pops one into his own mouth too and nods silently.

  He does that a lot. If Connor is the King of the Glare, Hunter is the Silent but Deadly sort. Kind of like a fart, but way worse because when Hunter stays silent, I talk to fill the space, and I think he’s annoyed with me to the point of tuning me out.

  Three days of one-on-one supervision in a hotel room will do that to a person. The only time he leaves my presence is when one of us has to pee. It’s getting pretty creepy at this point.

  The rambling is what prompted him to offer me gum the first day, and it’s become a fast habit. Nervous? Gum. Talking nonstop? Gum. Mad at the situation? Gum. Bored as fuck? You got it, gum.

  But while I’d been going stir crazy, now, with us driving to my place, I sort of want to return to the safety of the hotel room. I feel vulnerable out here. And alone. “He’s been taking care of Nut and Juice?”

  Hunter nods again but this time adds, “I’ve been keeping him updated on closing the case. Mr. Big, aka Shane Harris, is going away for a long time with all of Connor’s intel and what JP told us. Well, once he gets out of the hospital, and how he got there isn’t going to be investigated any further.” Hunter smiles an evil grin at that, having already praised and lectured me on my actions and assured me that it was an absolutely appropriate use of force to save JP and Connor.

  “Harris has already lost all credibility with the business people in town, his assets are frozen, and the conglomerate that owns the baseball team bought him out and kicked him off the board. You’re clear on the assault on Detective Carter.” He pauses, holding up a finger to stop my argument before it starts. “Yeah, I know he deserved it. The statue is back where it should be. Hell, we even got a lead on another forgery from Connor’s recon. It’s basically a blue-ribbon winner of a case as far as the bosses are concerned.”

  “And The Black Rose?”

  “Recovered and returned to J.A. Fox. Harris had actually kept that one for himself. He’s a fan, I guess, and it was hanging in the panic room at his penthouse.” Hunter drums his fingers on the steering wheel and looks at me. “It’s over. If you want it to be.”

  Over? Nothing’s over until I know the answer to one question. “Where is he?”

  He shrugs, silent again. I swear it’s like he uses his word allotment of the day in one minute and then, poof . . . nothing for hours. It drives me insane.

  “Will I see him again?”

  Hunter levels me with an even look, not so much a glare as a piercing gaze. “Do you want to?” There’s no judgment or pressure in the question. He’s truly only curious, but I feel a heavy weight on my chest that makes my breath catch.

  This time, I’m the one who goes silent. I’ve had a lot of time to think and learn about what Connor does when working undercover by pumping Hunter for information. Connor broke a lot of rules to spend time with me, letting me into his real life and history. Hunter confided in me how much that means to a man like Connor, who’s been betrayed and plays with loyalties like a toddler with a toy. But once I’d calmed down and gotten over the shock of Connor’s being an undercover federal agent, I didn’t need Hunter to tell me that everything between Connor and me couldn’t have been a lie. Nobody lies that well. I felt it, and I know Connor did too.

  I nod slowly, not trusting my voice.

  “Give him some time then,” Hunter advises me. “He’s pretty fucked up too. You know he’s got issues packed away like a damn squirrel storing nuts.”

  We get back to my place, and I get out of Hunter’s SUV and go inside. Even though Hunter just told me that Connor isn’t here, a small part of me still hoped to see him sitting on the couch waiting for me.

  But it’s only Nut and Juice. Their ears perk up at the door opening, and when they see me, they go wild. Nut leaps from the couch, running to greet me, and Juice does laps on the couch, back and forth while barking like mad.

  “Hello, babies,” I greet them, not letting them know how messed up I am right now. They’ve had enough bad days. I can at least give them a reasonable return to normality. “Yes, Mama missed you too. Are you okay?”

  I pet their soft fur, feeling their round bellies, and know that Connor took good care of them in my absence. He fed them, he took them out . . . smelling Juice, I think he even bathed them.

  A wave of sadness washes through me. I miss him.

  I sit at my dining room table, wanting a change of scenery as I work. My ass went numb hours ago as I try to power through the last bit of my book, but I can’t stop. I won’t stop. This book and my deadline are the only things keeping me functional right now, which I know is dysfunctional as fuck.

  I’m drinking Red Bull from Connor’s ‘seven ways to kill you’ mug instead of the can, purely for the comfort of having his things nearby. I found it in the sink when I came home a few days ago and have been using it ever since. I hope it’s a sign from him that he’ll be back and not a token for me to remember him by.

  I haven’t heard from him, though. Hunter isn’t responding to my messages either, and I feel like maybe it was all a con to wash their hands of me.

  I read back over the last page of what I’ve written, making tweaks as I go. It’s good, but it needs to be great. After everything I’ve been through to get this book to fruition, it needs to be the best thing I’ve ever written, which means I need help.

  I open a new tab and text the group chat for the W3AS gang, asking them if they can meet at the library for a sprint session and hype huddle.

  Everyone replies in the affirmative, with Becca even promising donut hole rewards since that worked so well last time to motivate me. They’re the best friends I could possibly have, helping me on the fly even after I disappeared and went radio silent for the days in the hotel with Hunter.

  I chug the rest of my Red Bull, making a sour face at the liquid that’s gone warm. I’m drinking too much of this shit. My kidneys have to be half pickled by now. After the book’s done, I’m going to need a detoxing or something.

  But that’s a problem for Future Poppy. Right now, nothing matters but finishing Trouble in Great Falls. And Connor.

  My hair is piled in a messy, days-dirty bun, I’m wearing clothes that I slept in, and deodorant that’s been applied in layers, so I take the quick ten minutes to shower. I want the girls to think I’m doing okay for once, even if it’s only a façade. I head to the library with my laptop in a bag. This one is a brand-new cross-body bag with an extra security strap that attaches around my waist. I’m not taking any chances.

  And I’ve still got my flash drive in my pocket with my backups. No fucking around anymore.

  I get to the library, and the girls are all here already, gathered and waiting for me. They go silent when I enter, making it obvious that they were talking about me while they waited. After a bit of fuss and a spritz of homemade essential oil body spray from Aleria that she swears is beneficial for mind clearing but makes me sneeze, we gather around the table and get our tech out.

  “So, what happened?” Jasmine asks before I can type a single word. “You’ve been MIA for a few days. Working?” she prompts hopefully.

  I rub my overly tired eyes, shaking my head. “So much has happened, I can’t even explain it all.”

  Really, I can’t tell them anything, per Hunter’s orders. I can’t risk messing up their court case.

  “Your aura is full of static,” Aleria says knowingly. “You need to bathe in sage.”

  “I’m just glad you bathed,” Daysha says, sniffing the air in my direction. I make a face at her, knowing that I don’t stink this time. Especially after the body spray spritz.

  Becca glares at Daysha, changing the subject. “How’s the book going? Tell us what you need other than a sprint session.”

  I sigh heavily. “It would be great if you could read over the last few chapters and see if I’ve missed anything,” I admit. “I know it sucks to ask you guys to be beta readers, but I need the assist badly. I think I’ve got the loose ends tied up, but I want to be sure because I’m heading into the happily ever after. And the cliffhanger.”

  “Cliffhanger?” Jasmine says with a wrinkle of her nose. “Readers hate those. Unless you’re explicit that it’s supposed to be that way.”

  “I know, but I was totally upfront about it. It’s a three-book series, already plotted out and contracted that way,” I remind them. “So the cliffie is a necessary evil, but I need there to be some resolution that feels good.”

  “Then let’s do this shit,” Daysha says, opening her laptop. “Gimme a copy.”

  I give her my thumb drive, and Aleria places a hand on my shoulder. “Let me clear some of the static first. I truly think it’ll help.”

  She’s done an aura cleanse on me before, so I know it won’t hurt, and at this point, anything that might help is fair game. I nod my agreement, and Aleria stands behind me, humming softly as she traces over my skin with her palms a few inches from connecting with me.

  “Allow creativity to flow freely, unrestricted by worldly concerns. Release stressors and bring only warm light to Poppy’s soul. Blessed be,” Aleria intones. Her voice is soothing, even if the words don’t actually do anything.

  “Thank you,” I tell her, appreciating the thought and support more than anything.

  Daysha passes around my thumb drive, and within a minute of everyone’s opening the file, we’re all going at it. They’re reading the last few chapters, making notes for discussion or tweaks, and I’m writing forward from my last stopping point. New hope blooms that I might be able to do this and do it in a quality way that will make this book my new favorite thing I’ve ever written.

  I’m so thankful that we all help each other this way. All five of us are better writers since we started calling each other on our shit, pushing us to do more and be better.

  While they read, I put on my earbuds with my hand-selected inspirational playlist for these characters and pour the story in my mind onto the computer screen. I’m down to hours, not days on my deadline, it seems, and the situation is so tense that even Hilda’s leaving me alone simply because she knows that the minutes she wastes yapping my ear off are minutes I can’t work.

  I’m furiously working until I feel eyes on me. I glance at the computer clock to see if I finished a sprint, ready for the donut hole, but find that I still have six minutes left on the timer. I look up from my screen questioningly to see all four women with their eyes looking just beyond me.

  “What?” I turn around, not sure if I’m expecting it to be Hilda demanding the book, Hunter telling me I fucked up, or Mr. Big coming back to take his revenge. All of those options are terrifying.

  It’s none of those people.

  It’s Connor. Finally.

  I stand up, my knees quaking as I walk over to the door, not quite believing what I’m seeing.

  “Are you real?” With a hesitant smile, I poke him in the stomach, which is rock hard beneath his black T-shirt. Seeing him, alive and in the flesh, relieves so many worries and fears. Ones that have been keeping me awake at night and distracting me from my writing. Ones that have kept my breath tight in my chest and my heart feeling hollow.

  “I’m real,” Connor says, his voice insistent, his eyes burning. “I’m here for you.”

  Tears sting my eyes, and I cover my mouth with my hands to keep from squealing too loudly in the library. But a pretty loud, high-pitched sound still gets out through my fingers, and the librarian shushes me.

  I should tell her to stop interrupting my big romantic moment, but I can’t take my eyes from Connor. He’s really here. We have a lot to figure out still, but that he’s here means it was real. I’m not crazy, not wrong about that.

  I leap into his arms, quickly wrapping my legs around his waist in what he calls my ‘koala maneuver’. Without even waiting, I pepper his cheeks with kisses, feeling his hands squeeze my ass tight.

  “Does this mean you’ve forgiven me?” he asks uncertainly. My lips are pressed to the corner of his mouth when he asks, so I feel the slowly blooming smile on his lips.

  Daysha interrupts, slyly inquiring, “Forgiven for what, exactly?”

  I don’t answer. All my attention is on Connor. I want to hold on to him and never let go, or crawl under his skin and write my name on his heart, or both.

  “Of course!” I reply into his neck, trying my best not to lick it like a lollipop yet. But I give in and swipe my tongue over his skin just a little, tasting the salty musk that’s uniquely him and thinking, ‘I licked him, he’s mine.’ “If you forgive me too.”

  Aleria hums, apparently hearing that one. “Ooh, she fucked up too. Must be why she needs the sage. But her aura is already looking better.”

  “There’s nothing to forgive, Poppy,” Connor says, holding me tighter to whisper in my ear, “I love you.”

  The words are quiet, meant for just me and him, but my girls hear him clearly in the otherwise quiet room, and they gasp. I do too, especially when he slowly rubs the tip of his nose against mine in a tender move that makes my inner romantic sigh in blissed out delight.

  He lays a soft kiss to my jaw, my cheek, and then my earlobe before saying it again, his breath hot against my skin. “I love you.”

  Then he nips my earlobe with his teeth, claiming me and making me yelp in happy surprise. That’s the Connor I know. “I love you too!”

  That was definitely too loud, but even the librarian is looking at us in wide-eyed wonder since we’re basically making out in the historical fiction section.

  “Oh, my gawd! Did you hear that?” Becca squeals as she claps her hands enthusiastically, grinning like a fool. “They’re in love! I’m swooning! It’s like a book to real-life adaptation right in front of us.” At the librarian’s glare at the noise, Becca clasps her hands under her chin, looking ridiculously happy and near tears. “Where is Netflix when you need them? I vote for Julia Roberts to play Poppy because of the red hair.”

  Daysha holds a finger to her lips, telling Becca, “Shh, maybe they’ll forget we’re here and we’ll figure out what the fuck is going on with some decent context clues. And Julia Roberts is too old to play Poppy, but she could play her mom.”

  “Emma Stone?” Aleria suggests.

  Slowly, Connor puts me down, but he keeps me curled into his side, his arm around my shoulders like he can’t bear to not touch me. Or maybe like he’s afraid I’ll end up doing something crazy again.

  But I only have one thing on my mind.