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“I know. I’ve been scared, I guess. I still am, but I can’t keep it inside anymore.” Lowering her head, she pressed her lips to his. “I love you. Thank you for including me in the conversation.”
“I love you, too. And I want you in every part of my life, Shannon.”
“Did you just ask me to marry you, Monroe?”
“Well, that wasn’t how I’d planned to do it, but sure.” He grinned, that cocky, boyish half-grin she’d first fallen in love with, even if she hadn’t known it at the time. “Marry me, princess. Let’s live happily ever after.”
“Of course, I’ll marry you. But I still expect a huge ring and a flashy proposal before we start making plans.”
“Brat.”
“Yeah. But you love it.”
“That I do.”
EPILOGUE
One Month Later
The persistent buzzingof his phone against the nightstand slowly pulled him from sleep. At first, he thought it was his alarm, and he hit the giant red ‘snooze’ button. But a moment later, the buzzing started again. More awake now, he picked up the phone, squinting at the readout.
Baltimore County Det Center
Fuck.
Climbing carefully out of bed, he hurried to the bathroom and hit the button to answer the call. “Hello?”
“Bryant? This is Warden Simms at the Baltimore County Detention Center. I’m afraid I have some urgent news that couldn’t wait until morning.”
There were only two reasons for a phone call like this at six in the morning. “You better be calling to tell me that fucker managed to get his hands on some extra bed sheets, Warden.”
“No, Mr. Monroe. I’m still looking into the details, but it was discovered during one of our nighttime checks that Nathaniel Cooke was not in his cell. We’ve checked every inch of this place, but as far as we can tell, he is no longer on the premises.”
“When did you realize he was missing?”
“Around ten o’clock.”
“And you waited eight goddamn hours to let me know?”
“We had to be sure—”
“I don’t give a fuck about your excuses, Warden. There are three innocent women this asshole could be coming after, and in those eight hours, he could have gotten to any of them. Find him and fix this, or I will make it my personal mission to see you can’t even get a job running the city pound.”
“Mr. Monroe, we have every available officer in the area looking for him. But there’s something else. I’m sending you a picture now.”
The phone in his hand buzzed, and he pulled it away to open the text. His blood ran cold at the image on the screen. A single name, scrawled in what appeared to be blood on the concrete wall of his prison cell, made it clear who he was going after.
“Goddammit. I have to go, but call me the second you hear anything. Got it?”
“I will do my best to keep you informed as the situation progresses.”
Understanding it was the best he was going to get under the circumstances, Bryant jabbed his finger at the button to end the call and immediately placed another one.
The voice that answered didn’t hold so much as a trace of sleep, which wasn’t surprising. Dean Mitchell was one of those rare souls who was up before the sun every single day and seemed to prefer it that way. “Hey, Bryant. Need more supplies?”
“No. I have a job for you.”
And just like that, every trace of teasing left his voice and he became all business. “Who is the asset?”
