Page 112 of Jetmir

“She’s safe.” Fuck, I hated this. I should be the one in danger, not my twin. “We’ll wait for a signal from her before making the next move.”

Silence followed for a heartbeat. “And you’re okay with it?”

Fuck, no.

“Yes. She’s smart and capable,” I said matter-of-factly. “Also, I’ve reached a somewhat uneasy truce with Raphael Santos, and he’ll assist in taking down the Triad.”

“Wow, you’ve been busy,” she breathed.

The door to my office opened and Anya came into view.

“Busy?” she mouthed.

“Mom’s on the phone,” I mouthed the answer back. She turned to leave when I added, “Stay.”

She leaned against the doorway, watching me with a soft smile and I fought the urge to go to her. I wanted to kiss her senseless, then take her to our bedroom and make long, sweet love to her.

But there would be time for that, because we had our whole lives ahead of us.

EPILOGUE ONE

JETMIR

One Month Later

Istood barefoot, wearing nothing but my gray sweatpants. My wife loved me wearing those and bought me one for every day of the month. Fuck, I was so fucking lucky to have her.

My palm rested against the glass wall of the Miami penthouse—the very same one I used to stalk-slash-protect my wife during our separation—while the city glittered beneath me against the gray sky. We stayed at this place whenever we were in Miami. She loved the space and it was close enough to her parents' house. More importantly, it gave us privacy.

Of course, occasionally we stayed at the Santos villa too. Needless to say, I had to be on my best behavior there which meant, I couldn’t have my hands all over my beautiful wife.

Raphael was slowly, but surely warming up to me, but I started to suspect kissing his daughter in front of him would never fly. Whenever Anya made an inappropriate, sex joke, my father-in-law would wince, then grumble in Spanish something about killing me.

Yeah, he loves me.

I was happy, but there was one thing that damped that happiness.

My twin.

She was still somewhere in China. We’d done considerable damage to the Triad, and I was ready for her to return, but she kept refusing. It worried me and our family. Nobody seemed to get an inclination of what or who she was after, because there was definitely something else afoot here.

The laptop on my desk rang, signaling incoming FaceTime.

I rushed back to my desk and sat down as I pressed the answer button. My sister’s face filled the screen.

“There you are. I’ve been messaging you for a whole week without an answer,” I grumbled. It was hard not to worry. “When are you coming back?”

She rolled her eyes. “Hello to you too.”

“When?” I demanded.

“Not sure yet.” Her eyes darted away from the screen, and my stomach twisted. “I told you to stop worrying.”

“How can I when my sister is in danger!”

She sighed. “I promise, I’m not.”

“Then come back,” I insisted.