Page 61 of No Turning Back
"So, it's really over?" I ask, still not quite believing it.
"Not officially, but yes," Philip says, as we walk outside. "We’ll draft the final decree and set a prove-up date with the court. Could be a week, maybe two. Once the judge signs, you’re done."
The late-summer heat rushes at me as we step outside, blinding after the cool, stale air of the office. My thoughts are still back in that conference room, circling the same question, why would Markus suddenly fold?
Philip pauses as we reach my car. “Just a few more days, then you’re officially free,” he says with a small, knowing smile.
I manage a nod, though my brain’s still trying to catch up.
Sliding into the driver’s seat, I close the door and let the blast of trapped heat envelop me. My hands linger on the steering wheel for a second before I start the engine.
The air conditioner groans to life, but my pulse is louder.
I pull out of the parking lot and start the drive home, the hum of the tires on asphalt doing nothing to quiet the thought echoing in my head.
Holy. Shit.
Chapter Twenty
Quinn
That evening, I head home in more than just a happy mood. I’m ecstatic. So, fucking happy I could squeal.
And there’s only one person I want to tell.
Except he only wants to be myfriend.
God, I’m starting to hate that word.
When I met Sam more than a decade ago, it wasn’t friendship that hit me first. It was lust, plain and simple. The only thing that stopped me was… well, the fact that I was the only woman in a twelve-man unit.
It didn’t help that most of my “squad” thought I was a diversity hire. Like the Berets were trying to keep up with woke America by bringing in a token woman.
Except I wasn’t token anything. I was an expert shot. I could literally shoot circles around men who’d been in the field for years. But I’d been told to stay humble, to never brag, to downplay my skill. And I did. Maybe too well.
Only Sam saw through me. Sam and maybe two other guys I would actually trust to be alone with. Which says a lot, because when you’re stuck in the middle of a desert, in a lawless country where nobody knows your name or gives a damn if you live or die, you learn fast who’s safe and who isn’t.
My little team within the squad saved my life more than once.
Until Martinez.
The idiot. The asshole. He shot me.
Not on purpose. He wasn’t aiming at me. But Jesus, who tries to show off by shooting a metal can at close range? The bullet shattered on impact and ricocheted straight toward my head.
And just like that, my career ended.
God, now I’m pissed.
I’ve been thinking about the team a lot lately. Maybe it’s the photos around the house, Sam kept up with them, apparently. I’ve heard bits and pieces, him on the phone promising he’ll catch up. No mention of me, of course. Then again, they didn’t exactly wait to replace me, so… whatever.
When I pull up to the ranch, the gate’s open.
Weird.
I shut it behind me, then notice a strange truck parked next to Sam’s. Great. Company. Exactly what I don’t want. TheAmerican flag sticking out of the back doesn’t tell me much, this is Texas, half the damn pickups on the road have a flag.
I push open the front door and call out, “Sam! The gate was op-”
