Page 111 of Her Guardian
“You’re not going to nurse me back to health and run off, are you?” he asks as we walk to the door. “Now that all of this is over, and you’re done with your podcast?”
“No,” I say with more conviction than ever. “I’m not going anywhere.”
I came to Las Vegas, trying to figure out what I was going to do with my life.
Now I know.
I’mthere.
EPILOGUE
Sarah
It’s been a year since Big Boyd carried me out of that bunker.
His recovery went well. The bullet he took in the desert turned into another scar, next to all the others on his abdomen. His leg healed, despite the additional damage, and didn’t scar very badly.
I’ve come to love my life in Las Vegas. With Boyd. He’s not on the sidelines anymore. Massimo assigned him a crew that operates on the strip. They manage some legitimate businesses, so there’s rarely any trouble. Boyd makes sure they do their job and do it well.
Massimo is still running the Morandi family, but Dante has had to step up a lot, because Massimo has a wife and a son who need him. I love my godson, Dario. He’s the spitting image of Massimo, but he’s got Lea’s kind eyes. One day, he’ll sit at the head of the table. He’ll be in charge of the Morandi family, when Massimo retires.
But it’ll be a long time before that happens. Right now, I’m in the kitchen, cooking dinner, with my mom hovering nearby to make sure I don’t mess anything up.
“The potatoes are boiling over!” she says, nearly pushing me aside as she turns the temperature down. “You have to watch those.”
“I know, I was watching them,” I groan. “Chill. Why are you in the kitchen anyway? You’re a guest, not the cook.”
“Because there’s a lot I wasn’t able to teach you,” she sighs. “You were never interested in it.”
“Mom, I think I can figure out how to make the same three casseroles without instructions,” I laugh, shaking my head. “Not like you were making much else.”
“I know, but… before everything happened with your father, I used to love cooking,” she says. “You’re too young to remember, but I was planning on opening my own café one day. Even picked out a spot near the lumber mill in Pine Grove.”
“Really?” I ask, turning away from the stove. “You never even mentioned that.”
“Didn’t matter after your father went to prison,” she says. “I had to worry about taking care of my daughter. You were all I had left. Sarah, the potatoes!”
“Shit!” I spin around and move them before they boil over.
My mom has visited us a few times, since I officially went from guest to permanent resident of Boyd’s condo—ourcondo. She pretends she doesn’t know what he does for a living. As far as her friends and co-workers back home know, I’m living with somebusinessmanin Las Vegas. And it’s serious. Very serious.
With my mom’s help, I get the food on the table before Boyd gets home. It’s my first time making Greek food, and I’m rather nervous, because my mom isn’t our only guest tonight. Lea and Massimo will be here. Cadence. Boyd’s uncle promised he’d be here and mentioned bringing a date. Leo and Emilio were invited, but we’re not sure if they’re coming. If they do, it’s going to be a tight fit at the dinner table. I’m sure we’ll manage.
“Well, if I screwed anything up, I’m sure Uncle Belen will let me know,” I sigh, looking over the spread.
“Let’s bring those chairs in from the spare bedroom,” my mom says, gesturing toward it. “That way we have enough seats if everyone shows up.”
“Alright, good idea,” I say, following her.
She walks in and glances at my podcasting equipment. It’s been mostly untouched since I was kidnapped. I did a couple of episodes, just to see if I felt the same excitement I used to, but it has passed. I’m too excited about my life to get swept away in true crime like I used to.
“Did anything ever come of those missing tourists?” my mom asks, pointing at the pictures on the wall. “I never listened to your podcast much, but I heard the episode you did about them.”
“Wait, I didn’t realize you had listened toanyepisodes,” I say, my eyebrows shooting up in surprise.
“I missed you, sweetheart.” She smiles, shrugging a shoulder. “It was nice to hear your voice.”
“Aw, Mom,” I whimper, hugging her and holding on tight for a moment before letting go. “Yeah, the tourists were being taken from a bar. I figured it out and… um, well, it was handled.”
