Page 57 of Guard Bear
"I'm just hired transport, officer." His voice carried clearly in the sudden quiet. "I don't know anything about his business."
"Don't move," Andre ordered. The man's careful compliance spoke of someone who knew when to cut losses. No loyalty to Prescott's money now.
Headlights crested the hill. Relief flooded through Andre as Heath's SUV led two patrol cars onto the airstrip. The cavalry had arrived. Gabriel stepped out first. Heath followed, moving to the rear of his vehicle.
"Thought you might need these." Heath pulled clothes from a duffel bag. Jeans and t-shirts, the spare sets they'd learned tokeep on hand. He tossed them over, careful not to look directly at Joy.
Andre caught his clothes one-handed, keeping his knee planted on Prescott. The shirt was too tight across the shoulders, but it covered what needed covering. He heard Joy moving behind him, the whisper of denim against skin as she dressed.
Gabriel approached with cuffs, his detective's eye taking in the scene. Evidence was scattered across the grass. The suspect was controlled but still raging.
"This was supposed to be mine!" Prescott writhed beneath Andre's weight. "Three generations of planning! You animals took everything!"
The metal cuffs clicked closed around his wrists. The sound had a finality that made Andre's chest loosen. Justice was being properly served at last.
Gabriel hauled Prescott upright. Andre stood, muscles protesting the sudden movement. The adrenaline was fading, leaving exhaustion in its wake. Joy appeared at his elbow, dressed now in Heath's spare clothes that hung loose on her smaller frame.
Together they watched Gabriel guide Prescott toward the patrol car. The man who'd burned Joy's hives, who'd orchestrated attacks on their entire community, reduced to stumbling in cuffs while his empire crumbled around him.
Chapter
Twenty-Six
Hot water ranover Joy's shoulders, washing away dirt and blood and the acrid smell of gunpowder. Andre's hands moved gently through her hair, working shampoo into a lather. The shower in his apartment above the hardware store was bigger than the one in her tiny home, so they’d come here after the arrest.
"Tilt your head back," he murmured.
She let the spray rinse soap down her spine. His fingers found a tender spot on her scalp where she'd scraped against a low branch during the chase. The sting made her hiss.
"Sorry."
"It's nothing." Joy turned in his arms, water streaming between their bodies. "We're alive. We won."
The words hung in the steam between them. Victory tasted strange on her tongue. Sweet for the justice served, bitter for all they'd lost along the way.
But Andre was here. Solid and real beneath her palms as she traced the bruises blooming across his ribs. Purple marks mapped the violence they'd survived.
His hands framed her face, thumbs brushing her cheekbones. "You were magnificent. The way you moved through those mercenaries..." He shook his head, droplets flying. "I've never seen anything like it."
"You trusted me." The words came out rough with emotion. "Even when everything in you must have screamed to put me behind you, to take all the danger yourself. You trusted me to handle my part."
"I'll always trust you." His forehead pressed against hers, water running over their joined faces. "You're my partner, Joy. In everything."
The shower shut off with a squeak of old pipes. The sudden absence of white noise made the apartment feel smaller, more intimate. Joy stepped out first, wrapping herself in a towel. She dried herself slowly, watching him do the same. Every movement revealed new bruises, new scrapes. They'd both given everything to defend their home. Their family. Their future.
Andre's towel dropped to the floor. He stood before her, vulnerable in his nakedness, eyes dark with need. Not just physical desire, though that simmered between them always. This was deeper. The need to affirm life after dancing so close to death. The need to claim what they'd fought for.
Joy let her own towel fall. The cool air raised goosebumps along her arms, but heat bloomed low in her belly. They'd waited so long. Through the investigation, through the preparation,through the battle itself. Always one more crisis, one more threat to handle first.
No more waiting.
She crossed to him in two strides, rising on her toes to press her mouth to his. The kiss was soft, almost reverent. A homecoming after the storm. His lips moved against hers with devastating gentleness, hands coming up to cradle her face like she was something precious.
"I love you," he whispered against her mouth. "God, Joy, I love you so much."
"I love you too." The words came easily now, truth flowing between them like water.
He lifted her gently, carrying her to his bedroom. The sheets were cool against her back as he laid her down with infinite care. No rush now. No desperation. Just the two of them in the quiet aftermath, needing each other with a tenderness that made her chest ache.
