Luke laughs. “Let’s go in,” he says, taking Olivia’s hand.
The cabin is gorgeous inside, like a private mountain resort. And it looks totally normal, people sitting on sofas playing a card game and hanging out – except for the row of computers on a table in the corner. The guy who’s obviously busy at the computers glances up, gives me a cursory wave, then promptly returns to whatever he’s doing.
“Don’t worry about him,” Luke says. “That’s Emir. He’s like that, I guess. He gets engrossed in what he’s doing.”
“Is this little Olivia?” An older man wearing a tweed suit jacket, despite the fact that we’re in the middle of the woods, squats down to say hello to Olivia. Then he reaches behind her ear, magically producing a flower in his hand. “Here you are, darling.”
“Daisy!” Olivia says, her voice loud. She smiles broadly, grasping it in her chubby little hand before she notices a set of toy cars in the middle of the floor.
“Wait, Olivia, your jacket!” I unzip her before she goes careening toward the cars. “Did you bring the cars for her?”
“Nope,” Luke says, taking my hand. “I believe that was River’s doing, actually.”
I thank her before I’m whisked over to the sofa to become the center of attention. Oscar pours champagne and toasts our good fortune. “And to Autumn’s skills with a shotgun.”
“And to the fact that Tempest is an excellent attorney,” I say, raising my glass.
“About that…” Tempest says, smiling.
“You’re not an attorney,” I correct myself, suddenly feeling like a total idiot. The woman who met with the District Attorney and had me released on my own recognizance instead of being arrested – despite the fact that I admitted to shooting the town sheriff – was not a lawyer at all.
“I’m not an attorney,” Tempest says. “But my alter ego Molly McAdams is, and she has a bar card and everything.” She holds up a glass of champagne. “And Molly is an excellent attorney, if I do say so myself.”
“She is quite skilled in the art of threatening to start a media scandal, isn’t she?” Iver says.
“It’s her specialty,” Tempest agrees.
“You were a very convincing lawyer,” I say. After the shooting, Luke tried to persuade me to let him take the fall for it, but I refused. There was no need to, since Jed Easton immediately confessed to the arson on my property and to attempted murder. He even admitted to taking bribes and implicated the mayor in his crimes.
“It helped that Jed Easton confessed to everything,” Tempest says. “Not that I don’t deserve all your praise and accolades, though. Feel free to keep those coming.”
Oscar laughs. “I guess Jed and his father knew what they were getting into with the mining company. The only way Jed could see to keep the mining company from taking them out was to confess and wind up in prison.”
“That’s fairly shortsighted, isn’t it?” I ask. “If the mining company has mafia connections, they’ll be able to reach them in prison, won’t they?”
“I think the District Attorney will push for solitary confinement, given the fact that they’re law enforcement,” Tempest puts in.
“They won’t make it a day in prison, even in solitary,” says Luke.
“How do you know?” I ask.
Silas smirks. “If the mining company doesn’t have Jed taken care of, the biker club will.”
“What biker club?” I ask, remembering that June’s husband Cade used to be a member of a biker club.
“Someone from a biker club out in California has an old beef with Jed Easton,” Oscar explains, waving his hand dismissively. “There’s a bounty on his head. But that’s neither here nor there. Let’s talk about happier things. Like our good fortune with the mining company.”
“We recovered all of the land the company had purchased,” Iver says.
“So you’re sitting on a small fortune,” I realize. “Since the land is actually loaded with europium.”
“My dear, there’s nothing small about this fortune,” Oscar says. “And the property will go back to the rightful owners.”
“Another happy ending,” Iver says, raising his glass. “To many more happy endings. But grifter happy endings – to taking the bad guys and never getting caught.”
I lean over to whisper to Luke. “They toast a lot.”
“You have no idea,” he whispers, taking my hand in his.
“Did you mean what you said earlier?”
“About what?” His voice is innocent, but he’s smiling, obviously pleased with himself.
“You know,” I whisper. “The L-word you used.”
He leans close, his mouth near my ear. “I totally meant to use that word,” he says. “With everything I have.”
38
Luke
Six months later
“There you go!” I yell, clapping loudly. “You did such a great job!”
Olivia runs with the unsteady gait of a two-year-old back across the field to me, totally forgetting about the soccer ball she just kicked in the opposite direction.