Wilder’s face crumpled and his jaw worked hard.
“You’re all I need, Amy. Please unbind me and let me out of this tub. We’ll go away together forever.”
Amy stepped back a foot, lowered the dryer. “Really?”
“Really.” Cosette glanced at Wilder.
Amy caught it and raised the dryer. “I knew you were a liar.”
Wilder pulled the trigger.
The hair dryer dropped.
TWELVE
The hair dryer clattered on the tile floor next to the tub. Wilder’s heart pumped as he moved quickly and unplugged it.
Amy fell, knocked her head against the toilet and crumpled in a heap, unconscious. He hadn’t taken a kill shot, only wounded her. “Beckett! Call the police and an ambulance.”
Wheezer rushed inside and grabbed a towel, kneeling and applying pressure on Amy’s shoulder wound. Wilder didn’t fault him for it.
“Get me out! Get me out! Get me out!” Cosette screamed, now hysterical and panicked.
Wilder cut the ropes on her feet with his knife, then hauled a bound Cosette from the water and into his lap on the bathroom floor.
“Wheezer, let’s get Amy out of here and into the hallway,” Beckett said and lifted the wounded woman from the floor, closing the bathroom door on Wilder and Cosette.
Wilder grabbed a bath towel from the rack and wrapped it around Cosette while he cut her hands loose. Seeing her in that tub and knowing any second she might die had scared him more than anything in his entire life. “You’re safe now. You’re safe.”
Cosette let out a strangled sob and collapsed against him, snaking her arms around his neck. Her skin felt like ice.
“Let it all out, darlin.’ And you are my darlin’. Period.” All the fear, the grief, everything she couldn’t show in front of Amy poured out against his chest. “You were a brave soldier.” He stroked her wet hair. “Smart.” There was so much he wanted to say, but now wasn’t the time. “You did good. Real good,” he murmured. “Now just cry it out.” She continued to wail, her shoulders shaking, body shuddering against him. She clutched his shirt and mumbled something incoherent.
Sirens reached his ears. “We’re gonna go home in just a bit, okay?” And by home he meant CCM. She could let the lease go on that stupid apartment. “Just you and me and a red velvet cake.”
She sniffed and nodded against his chest. The woman must be exhausted, but she’d held it together like a pro. He gripped her and stood, and with her cradled in his arms, walked downstairs into the living room, where the Carson family minus one were being attended to by first responders. Jody stayed with them. Detective Bodine stood by the door, ready for the real story.
“Can you stand, baby?” Wilder asked.
Cosette nodded.
Wilder lowered her, but kept his arm around her. “Does she need to do this now?”
“I can do it,” she said. “I want to do it, but first...” She went to Mrs. Carson and they hugged and cried. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could have done more. This is my fault.”
“No, it isn’t. It was that crazy woman’s. You saved us. Thank you.” The paramedics led them to the ambulance and Cosette walked with her.
Wilder’s chest swelled with pride. This was the woman he wanted to spend his life with, but once again he’d have to wait a little longer, and he could.
He’d been waiting his whole life for Cosette.
“You gonna do the deed?” Evan asked.
Wilder chortled. “What deed is that?”
“Marriage, you idiot.” Jody wrapped her arms around Evan. “You lo-o-ove her,” she teased and snickered.
“I’m not loving you right now.” But he grinned at his team. They’d been there to pull him up. To love him unconditionally. To fight with him and for him.
And right now, one of them was deeply wounded.
“I’ll be right back.” Wilder stepped outside.
Wheezer stood in the middle of the lawn, staring up at the stars, lost as a goose.
“It was Christmas Eve and I was seven,” Wilder said. “I couldn’t sleep that night, waiting on Santa to bring me presents. I wanted to see him. Talk to him. So I waited up behind the couch and long into the night, I heard rustling. I peeped over the couch and do you know what I saw?”
“I know it wasn’t Santa.”
“It was my dad. Eating the cookies and drinking the milk. I didn’t want to believe it. At first, I thought he was sabotaging Christmas. What would Santa think when he showed up to crumbs and an empty milk glass? But then my mom brought in our gifts and I watched them fill our stockings with candy.”
Wheezer faced him, moisture in his eyes.
“The people we love can fool us the easiest. Our eyes are blinded to them. What we think is real...isn’t sometimes. I was so mad on Christmas morning, I refused to open the gifts and participate in the festivities. Santa was a lie. And I was mostly mad at myself for believing. All the signs were there.”
Wheezer wiped his eyes. “The girl I fell in love with murdered five people, used me for information, manipulated, lied and nearly killed Cosette! I didn’t believe in a fairy tale, I believed in love.”
Wilder did something he didn’t typically do. He went to Wheezer and embraced him. “You can always believe in love. But you can’t believe lies that crop up when you’re hurting. Lies like it’s your fault. Brother, don’t do that.” He sighed. “Don’t give up all the gifts that are before you because you’re mad at yourself. Don’t stop participating in festivities because you’re angry and bitter. You’ll miss out.”
Wheezer hugged him back, with zero shame. Wilder gripped him hard. “No one blames you. We love you, man, and we’d be lost without you.”
“Thank you, Wilder.” Wheezer finally broke the embrace, sniffed and nodded. “Thank you,” he said, before heading back inside.
Wilder was exhausted. For the first time he was feeling it in sore muscles and burning eyes.
Cosette strode toward him. She’d changed into dry clothes, though her hair was still wet.
“How did you find me?” she asked.
Wilder drew her to him, never wanting to let her out of his sight again. “A lot of digging. Almost murdering your colleagues.” He chuckled and kissed the top of her head. “But the truth is it was your father, Cosette. Leon.”
Cosette reared back, eyes wide. “What? He was involved in this?”
“No. Not exactly.” He explained what had happened and what the lawyer had really wanted. “If I hadn’t answered...” He didn’t even want to think about it.
“Five months. I could have known this five months ago!” She cried again as she leaned into him.
“Hindsight, darlin’. Hindsight.”
A few moments later, she looked up. “Wilder. I need to see him.”
* * *
Cosette sat on a blanket by the burned-down stable. The breeze lightly stirred the sweet scent of honeysuckle.
Two days ago, she’d visited her father in prison. She wasn’t sure what to expect. He’d looked so old and feeble. But his eyes were strong. Dad had shared with her how he’d received salvation and how Jesus had changed his life. He, too, had regrets, but there was no changing what had happened. He’d shed many tears, as well.
She wasn’t planning on becoming BFFs with him, but she planned to visit on occasion, and she’d set up a debit card plan to accept his collect calls from her cell phone. It would be tough. She forgave him, but she hadn’t forgotten, and she was human. Emotions needed to be worked through on a daily, sometimes hourly, basis. But it was a start.
Wilder had given her some space these past few days, and while she appreciated it, she wanted to know what he was thinking. But he was a private man. Sometimes slow to move, and she loved him, so she’d love him even for that and be patient. He’d understood her subtle m
essage to him; she’d seen the light bulb go on in his eyes. He’d told her she was always his darlin’ and he’d called her “baby.”
But he had yet to profess his love.
He’d yet to kiss her again.
“Hey,” Wilder said and moseyed up to her blanket. “Can I cop a squat?”
“Your property.” She smirked and patted the blanket.
He sat beside her, his thigh brushing hers, sending a spray of joy into her middle. “When I was three, my dad told me I was a man. That I had responsibilities to take care of my baby sister. Then when Caley was born, that fell to me, too. I took it seriously, Cosette. The year before Meghan died in my arms—”
“What?” Meghan had died in Wilder’s arms?
“Meghan. Allie. Two women I cared about. And I almost lost you.” She listened as he shared his heart. The secrets he’d held inside so long. “I didn’t do couch sessions with you because I was afraid you’d get in my head and pull that out.”
“I would have, but thank you for telling me on your own. Finally.” She sighed as if she was sad. “What will we fight about now?”
“I’m sure we’ll come up with something.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
Cosette gazed at him. “Wilder, I think it’s time for us to stop being afraid of what the other one might think and just lay it all out there.”
“All right. If we’re putting it all out there.” He framed her face. “I love you. I’ve loved you for most of the years I’ve known you. I never said anything because to love you means to give you all of me. And I was afraid if you knew about my failures, you’d think differently of me and that...that would kill me.”
He. Loved. Her.
She soared to the highest heavens.
“I know now that’s not true,” he said. “So if you want me, Cosette...then I’m all yours. Every single part. All the emotion you want and can handle.”
She grinned, but he cut her off before she could utter a word.
“But you need to know something.” He took her hand, kissed her knuckles. “When I say I’m yours, I mean it. I belong to you. And if you love me, too, then you belong to me. Not as a possession. I don’t own you. But you are mine. I’ll take care of you always. And you’ll take care of me. Even if it means dragging me from burning buildings.” He chuckled. “Though I’ll likely still yell at you for it.”
Cosette couldn’t love this man more, but... “How can you say if I love you, too? I told you I loved you first.”
Wilder’s sly grin sent ripples through her. “No, you said you didn’t love me. You didn’t want to have my babies.” Yearning burned in his eyes and seared into hers. “You said you didn’t want to grow old with me,” he whispered.
“I lied. Maybe I did it too well. I am, after all, a behavioral expert.”
“Hmm.” Wilder nuzzled her cheek.
She belonged to God. And she wanted nothing more than to belong to Wilder Flynn. “I do love you, Wilder. And I belong to you.”
“Well, that’s all I needed to hear.” He pecked her cheek and pulled away. “But you need to hear one more thing.” He pulled a red velvet box from his pocket and switched to a kneeling position. “Cosette, will you marry me? Because I really don’t want to go on through this life without you in it. By my side. As my wife and partner. The only woman who can touch my hair.”
She cackled. “I do love your hair.”
“Me, too, but let’s focus.”
She snickered again and tears rushed to her eyes. “Yes! I’ll marry you.”
He placed the gorgeous emerald-cut diamond on her finger, then cradled her face and gently kissed her. Almost chaste, but she could taste the emotion behind it, the intensity of his love for her and the peace of knowing she belonged to this man till death did them part.
EPILOGUE
May, the following year
Wilder slipped behind the new stable and sneaked up on Cosette, snaking his arm around her waist and whisking her into one of the empty stalls. She squealed and laughed as he butted her up against the wall.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Stealing a kiss from my wife before all the hoopla starts.” This coming July marked the anniversary of their first year as a married couple. It had been every bit as awesome as Wilder had expected.
During the year, Cosette had worked tirelessly to rebuild the stable and open the equine therapy practice. Six horses. A private office and drive. The fencing had been done and Mercy Abrams had flown out to help them with the details. Today was a private grand opening with friends and family to celebrate this accomplishment.
A baby’s cry echoed in the distance, but Wilder ignored it and let himself get lost in Cosette’s kiss—this woman who belonged to him.
The crying continued and grew closer.
“You have to learn when Daddy says no crying, he means it. Yes, he does.” Beckett Marsh was baby-talking to his squalling son, and Caley and Shepherd had announced they were expecting. Wilder hoped Cosette didn’t get the bug too fast. He was enjoying having her all to himself. But sometimes when Beck’s son wasn’t wailing, he itched for a few babies himself.
Cosette smothered a snicker at Beckett’s baby talk, and they crouched low to not get caught. “I also wanted to tell you that your dad is here,” he whispered.
He’d been released on parole four months ago. They weren’t close by any means, and Wilder was pretty sure Leon was okay with that and understood, but he was here for this, and they’d let him video call into the wedding to watch.
Beckett had given Cosette away.
“See, that’s better. No crying,” Beckett cooed.
“Are you in here demanding our son not cry?” Aurora stomped into the stable, and Wilder and Cosette peeked over the stall wall. “Have you learned nothing being married to me?”
“Possibly,” he said in a teasing tone.
Maybe Wilder should clue them in on the fact they weren’t alone.
“And I’m not demanding anything other than some teething gel and a bib. The slobber is off the chain,” Beckett said.
“Have you seen Caley?” Shepherd swaggered into the stable. “I can’t find her.”
“She was puking in the guest bathroom twenty minutes ago. The smell of hay made her sick,” Aurora said. “That’ll pass.”
Shep scrunched his nose. “Not soon enough,” he muttered.
Wilder covered Cosette’s mouth to stifle her laugh, and when that didn’t work, he shoved her into the hay and kissed her again. That shut her up.
“Anybody seen Wilder or Cosette?” Evan’s voice boomed across the stable. “The caterer is looking for her. Which reminds me, I’m starving. Can we order a pizza and not tell Cosette? Who wants to eat froufrou food? It’s not a tea party.”
Jody’s voice sounded. “The photographer is here.”
Since they’d all be dressed up, they were having new team photos taken for the Covenant Crisis Management website. Cosette included. She was still part of the team. He’d tossed his policy on not dating—or marrying—employees.
“We should stop making out in the hay and tell them we’re in here. Besides, Evan needs to know I did not order froufrou foods.”
“No way.” Wilder picked hay from her hair and helped her sit up. “And yes, you did,” he whispered. “They’re all doll-sized. We’re grown men. We don’t eat doll food.”
She made the pouty face he adored.
“I smell them,” Jody said.
He inwardly groaned. He wanted five more minutes alone with his wife.
Jody popped her head over the stall door and grinned. “Making out in the hay.”
“I hate that sniffer!” Wilder teased and helped Cosette to her feet. “And it’s our stable. We can do what we want.”
“You might wanna pick the straw out of your hai
r before our photo,” Shep said. “Just an observation.”
Cosette huffed, and she and Wilder went to work doing so.
“Y’all! Y’all!” Caley came running, huffing and puffing, her face pale.
“Quit running,” Shepherd growled.
“I’m pregnant, not helpless.” She shrugged off his remark. “Wheezer’s here. With a date!”
He’d been more himself lately, since Roger Renfrow had been doing some counseling with him.
Cosette had invited the Carson girls to come for equine therapy. She’d also sweet-talked Wilder into building small guest cabins for patients and their families who needed to come from out of town. He’d never be able to say no to her.
“A date?” Wilder asked. “Bring her into the control room. I want to give her a lie detector test before this goes any further.” Wilder was half joking. At some point you just had to get back in the saddle and trust again. In people. In God.
He trusted this team—this family—with his life. And now that he didn’t feel the need to carry everything on his own shoulders, he could lean on them for support. He’d finally realized leaning on friends and God didn’t make you weak. It made you strong.
He put his head on Cosette’s and she hugged him to her.
Wilder had never felt stronger.
* * * * *
If you liked this story from Jessica R. Patch, check out the rest of The Security Specialists miniseries:
Deep Waters
Secret Service Setup
Available now from Love Inspired Suspense!
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Dear Reader,
I have enjoyed writing this series, especially Wilder’s story. From the beginning, I knew he was going to be a complicated character, but one I believe many of us can relate to. To feel comfortable, he has to control every situation and outcome. When he can’t, he feels weak and afraid. The truth is, none of us have supreme control and we have to rest in the knowledge that God alone does. And I think that boils down to the trust factor. Do we truly trust Him in all situations? Can we trust Him to work everything out for good? Can we trust Him when the reports are bad? I encourage you (and myself) to spend some time in prayer and ask God to help us see areas where we can surrender to Him and trust Him to see the outcome through—then trust Him with that outcome! I love to hear from readers. Please email me at [email protected] and sign up for my newsletter at www.jessicarpatch.com and get “Patched In” to new releases and book news/deals.
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