Page 19 of Beauty and the Bounty Hunter

“Ms. Valdez.” Deputy Marshall strode onto the cell block, hands on his utility belt. Harbor walked a step behind him, unable to hold back the grin on his face. “It’s my pleasure to let you know that all charges against you have been dropped.”

“Really?” Relief felt like a warm ocean breeze, lifting me up. Or maybe one of Harbor’s now-legendary hugs. “Thank goodness. What about the bail jumping?”

Deputy Marshall cleared his throat and looked behind him. “It’s been covered.” He took out a key ring and opened the cell door. “Welcome to freedom, Ms. Valdez.”

He might have said something else. I might have collected some belongings, or talked to someone.

I didn’t remember. All I remembered was flying into Harbor’s arms and wrapping myself around him.

“I can tell you now,” Harbor said into the top of my hair, where his lips lingered. “I love you, Trina.”

Sunshine burst out of every nerve ending. “I love you, too.”

That feeling? Like I had finally come home.

EPILOGUE

Harbor—five years later

“Trina! You’re not supposed to be carrying that!” I swooped in and took the heavy casserole dish from my wife. I kissed her cheek too, because why the hell not.

She shook her head, laughing, her hands dropping to her round belly. “Pregnancy is not a medical condition.”

“Technically, that’s not true.” Laura Marshall took the casserole dish from me and laid it out onto the long picnic table covered in potluck dishes. “It is a very adorable parasite inside of you.”

“Please don’t say that.” Katrina took my arm and we walked together toward the lakeside potluck. Fish Fry Fridays were one of the many, many things I missed about living in Wisconsin, but we had to go where the US Marshal Service sent us. Katrina thrived everywhere. “My very wonderful, loving, and overly concerned husband will freak out and he won’t even be able to enjoy this.”

We headed for the tent I’d set up earlier where my and Katrina’s parents were sitting, their plates already loaded, the space heaters buzzing, and beers in their koozies. In her thick purple parka, our three-year-old Vanessa sat on the blue-and-white striped blanket, stacking blocks and then knocking them down over and over. She was going to be a big sister in the next few months.

“I can enjoy this,” I said to her, swooping Vanessa off the ground to kiss her squirming head then sitting on the snow-less ground to play with her. She promptly stuck her toddler finger into the slice of banana cream pie on my plate and popped it into her mouth. “Did you tell your parents about your exhibit?”

My dad laughed and handed me a napkin to wipe the whipped cream from my daughter’s face. “You’ve talked of nothing but Katrina’s exhibit. We are so proud of you, honey.”

“Thanks.” Katrina beamed. She always beamed lately. Pregnancy and success suited her. “It was rough, coming up with the idea for the pieces, but I think they worked out.”

“They ate our garage,” Vanessa said, stealing more pie from my plate. I didn’t mind. I’d gotten it for her anyway. She had the world’s biggest sweet tooth.

“Not exactly.” Katrina laughed. “Sculptures take space. And your dad was a champ, moving everything around so they would fit.”

My phone buzzed and I excused myself from the family gathering. “Stryke here.”

“Hey, Harbor. I have a new case for you,” my supervisor said. “Down in Florida. How quickly can you get down there and extract him?”

I glanced over at my family, a mixture of Stryke and Valdez, enjoying a lakeside fish fry on an unseasonably warm winter’s day. Katrina glanced over at me, like she knew what was happening and understood.

I was the luckiest bastard in the entire world. Five years with her had turned me from an enforcer into a dad whose daughter liked to paint his nails. Florida wasn’t too far. I’d get Vanessa a little snow globe, and I’d be home way before the new baby was born. Katrina wasn’t due until August. “I can be there whenever you need. Tell me about the case.”

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