Page 119 of Golden Burn

“And the DEA is giving us new identities?”

“Also, yes.”

Ford searches for Dom and grabs his hand. “How do you feel about Massimo as my new name?”

Dom groans, a smile curving his lips. “Am I even allowed to decline after almost losing you?”

“Sure, you can. But I have a long list,” Ford says, wiggling his eyebrows. “Although, some of them I’ll save for our kids.”

Chuckling, I reach across and slip my arm around Etta’s waist. She drops her lap onto mine and reclines on my shoulder, still drained and recovering mentally from so much stress. Pressing a kiss to the top of her head, I find Ford’s attention. “The house in London, the one near Chelsea, is yours. Put it under both of your names, whatever you choose. I know it’s your favorite Dom.”

He smiles. “It is.”

Ford grins, an excited gleam in his dark eyes. “Can we do Christmas this year?”

Etta straightens and looks up at me, smiling. “That sounds amazing. I love the snow.”

We leave Ford to get some more rest, heading out of the busy hospital in Athens to travel to our hotel. We have to pack our bags to catch a flight soon. Our last flight for a while. The next few months Etta and I are going to spend it on the ground, lost in each other’s company and the sprawling hills that border the farm in Montana.

Inside our hotel room, Etta helps me onto the bed. I grab her and she falls into me, wrapping her legs around my waist. She kisses me fiercely, once, twice, and then nuzzles her face into my neck.

“How did I get so lucky?” I say, mostly to myself, kissing her neck in return.

“Me too,” she breathes, rubbing her hands through my hair. She takes off my eyepatch and rests it on the bed beside her. “I’ll never get used to this,” she whispers. My heart thunders, so full and alive that itaches.

“Neither will I,” I reply, kissing her softly.

Etta smiles at me. “Lucky we have forever.”

“Lucky we do.”

44

Etta

‘Slow Burn’ - Kacey Musgraves

ONE YEAR LATER

“Odin?” I call, striding through the front door, my legs leaden with lactic acid. I’m saved from having to shout again for my husband when he comes round the corner, out of the home gym. Three dogs, two cats and a baby goat follow in his wake.

“Hi my babies!” I exclaim, bending down so the dogs can lick me first. Juniper is the most enthusiastic and the hairiest. I’m covered in fur in seconds. Romeo gives me a sassy meow and saunters off to have a nap, but the new kitten—Stevie—jumps into my arms. The baby goat, Alfred, clip clops around the other two dogs, his cute tail wagging.

“Out of the way. You’re keeping me from my wife,” Odin says, pushing through the crowd to reach me. As soon as our eyes lock, my cheeryexpression wavers. “You okay?” he asks, taking my bag from my hands so he can give me a quick kiss. His chest is bare and gleaming with sweat, his hair a mess, and his concern is like oil on my tired muscles.

“Sort of,” I reply, finding the island bench seat and lowering myself into it. Stevie climbs up my arm and settles on my neck.

“Was it the surgery?”

I shake my head. “No. It went well.” The emergency cesarean myself and two other doctors performed on a pregnant cheetah at the Montana zoo was touch and go for a while, but not the root of my exhaustion.

“Monique called me from the San Diego shelter,” he says. “The lower building flooded from a blocked drain during the storm. A plumber’s already been out and had a look.”

“Oh, that’s good.”

The profits Odin acquired from selling the buildings occupied by the Lombardos were put to good use. We’ve opened six non-kill shelters across the country. One more on the way. Two more buildings in New York and LA have been renovated and turned into women’s shelters to support those who are homeless or running from domestic violence.

Every day I wake up proud. Proud of us, of him and of the future. There’s still plenty more to do, but right now, I want to focus on myself.

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