Page 111 of The Big Fix

I waved as they pulled away, then walked into the terminal. I called Owen from the plane.

“Are you hurt?” he asked worriedly.

“No. Not a mark on me.”

“You mean, no new marks on you.”

“Yes. That’s what I mean.”

He took a breath. “Is it over?”

“It is absolutely over.”

“You’re certain?” Of course he would double-check. If our roles were reversed, so would I. “No one’s trying to kill you.”

“Not at the moment,” I said dryly.

“Jared,” he warned me.

“I promise you, we’re in the clear.”

I heard his breath catch. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You sound tired.”

“I think it hasn’t sunk in yet that we can go home.”

“Well, don’t go home yet. Come pick me up first.”

“That’s my plan.”

“Good. I can’t wait to see you.”

I felt the same.

It was very early in the morning when I returned to the villa. Darius’s men had already departed, but there was still a retinal scan before the front door opened. It was comforting.

And there was Owen, asleep on the couch in the living room. I didn’t want to wake him. He needed his rest—we’d talked last at a ridiculous hour of the morning—but I suspected that not waking him would be a mistake.

I crouched down beside him and kissed his forehead. When his eyes drifted open, all I saw was warmth and love. I was a lucky man.

“I was thinking,” he said, his voice gravelly with sleep, “that when we get home, we should go to the pound and get a dog. I’ve wanted one, but I’ve been putting it off, not knowing what would happen with us.”

“That’s a good plan. I love that plan.”

“Okay,” he said.

I leaned down, he opened his arms, and then we were hugging. It was so good, so warm, so new, yet familiar at the same time. I wanted to stay there forever.

“Lie down,” he prodded me, and I didn’t question him. Instead, I snuggled in right there on the couch, and we were tangled in seconds. I toed off my shoes, sighed deeply, and closed my eyes. “Oh yes, this is perfect,” he whispered in my ear.

And it was.

I called the ambassador the next day, thanked him for his assistance, and told him I was leaving. He thanked me for letting him know and told me to please consider waiting until he transferred to return.

“Yeah, he hates you,” Jing assured me when we parted at the commercial terminal. She was flying first class home to Paris, and Garland, who, it turned out, wasn’t needed on the op, was meeting her there. “I mean, really, you could try the patience of a saint.”