“Lark agreed to go along with it?”
“Agreed?” His smile widened. “It was his idea. He also spent the last several hours developing a scrambling program, just in case my father decides to blow his chip for the hell of it. Michael is dead,” he repeated, the smile fading into a look that told her just how much it was costing him to let his friend go. “And you can be too. But you have to decide right now, and once that decision is made, it can’t be undone. Not ever.”
He was making sure she understood. She could have Michael. She could be with him or she could go home. Home to Jason and Riley. Val and Lucy. Whatever her decision, there would be no turning back. Whoever she chose to let go would be lost to her forever. It was a hard choice but it was hers—with Ben it always would be. That was the difference between him and his father.
Home …
Sometimes it wasn’t a place. Sometimes it was a person.
She levered herself up from the workbench to stand in front of him. “You’re a good man, Ben—and a good friend.” She stretched herself, despite the pain, to press a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you … for everything,” she said before walking away.
“Take care of him,” he said, and she felt his eyes on her as she left the hangar and got on the plane.
Peggy Coleman Photography
About the Author
Maegan Beaumont is a native Phoenician, currently stuck in suburbia with her high school sweetheart and husband, Joe, along with their four children. She writes take-you-to-the-edge-of-your-seat thrillers and loves action movies and spending time with her family. When she isn’t busy fulfilling her duties as Domestic Goddess, she is locked in her office with her computer, her coffee pot, and her Rhodesian Ridgeback and one true love, Jade.
Acknowledgments
To my husband, Joe: Thank you for always offering me the last cookie in the jar (even though I know you really want it) and for understanding that “I’m almost finished with this scene” translates to “You aren’t going to see me for the rest of the day.” I love you … I guess. To my always entertaining, sometimes irritating, mostly wonderful children: Finding my balance between writer and mother has been my greatest challenge. Thank you for understanding and loving me, even when I get it wrong. To my ever increasing circle of writer-type friends—Cindy, Holly, Linda, Kristen, Mary, and Susana: Thank you for making me feel like less of a weirdo. With you, I have truly found my people. To my lovely canning wife, Melissa: Thank you for sticking it out with me. Being my friend is a tough job; being my wife makes you a saint.
To Les Edgerton: You were the first person to ever look at me and see, above all else, a writer. For that, I’d open a vein for you … preferably someone else’s.
To Cathy Crowley, who has been my hero and my champion from day one: Thank you for your seemingly endless offers of support, enthusiasm and expertise. I thank you, my readers thank you, and most importantly, chapter 48 thanks you. To Mary Lillie, whose eagle-eye and attention to detail keeps me sane: You’ll never know how much I rely on you to make me sound like I know what I’m doing.
To my agent, Chip MacGregor: Thanks for looking out for me and for talking me off the ledge when things don’t go my way. It’s comforting to know I’ve got you in my corner. To the fantastic team at Midnight Ink—specifically my badass editors, Terri Bischoff and Nicole Nugent: Thank you for the countless hours of hard work and dedication you put in, not just for me, but for all of us. Thank you for being our voice, our sounding board, our advocates, and our biggest fans.
And for you, Annie, who is always last but never, ever least: You were my first and most constant partner in this crazy, unpredictable, sometimes-painful-but-always-worth-it roller coaster we call life. Thank you for forgiving me when I’m being a self-absorbed asshole (which is most of the time) and for being the first person who ever leaned in close and whispered in my ear, you can do this. I love you, I do. Forever and ever.
Promises to Keep Page 35
