Or rather, I smell her.
Sophia’s lilac scent. Sweet and sultry.
It’s all over him.
An anger I didn’t know existed rages under my skin, heating me from the inside out, and I grip the greasy asshole so tightly I fear my fingers will break.
My voice is unrecognizable when I speak. “Where the hell is she?” When he glances behind the bar, his gaze shifting away from me, I ball one fist in the air, ready to swing it at the fucker’s head when I feel something around my arm.
A light touch, familiar and warm that makes me hesitate.
I glance down to find Sophia’s hand at my bicep, pulling, her hazel eyes filled with emotion.
“Noah…” My name on her lips is strained, tinged with relief and undertones of fear all at once, and I drop the blond bastard in front of me so suddenly that he falls, crumbling to his knees.
I rotate towards the woman I’ve been looking for all day, feeling like I’ve recovered my heart in human form, feeling like I’ve found it…
My world.
“Fuck, Sophia.” I reach for her face, one hand drifting towards her jaw which I stroke. “What—where have you been? I’ve been fucking out of my mind for the last few hours.” I heave a heavy sigh. “Did he—?” I glance back to find Richard Slauson on the ground. “Did he hurt—?”
“No.” She shakes her head before I can finish, multi-colored strands of her cinnamon and brown sugar-hued hair flying back and forth. “But you might want to check on him.”
She waves a dark object in her hand, and after glancing down, I realize why Richard Slauson might have been frozen on a stool when I broke down the door.
My little thief.
The little criminal that she is.
Richard Slauson wasn’t the one holding her hostage after all.
She was holding him.
I can’t help but smile. “Alright, Little Bear, hand it over.” I reach for the pistol wrapped in her fingers. “Haven’t you ever heard that ‘Violence is not the answer’?”
She cocks a sharp eyebrow. “Is that another Stephen King quote?”
“No.” I shake my head. “But I have a few Noah Quinn original ones you should hear, once I get you alone.” I touch her forehead with my mine, inhaling her soft scent. “But first,” I spin towards the haggard heap of a man on the ground, “let’s take out the trash, shall we?”
Chapter 30
SOPHIA
Life sure was strange.
But it wasn’t a novel.
It couldn’t be wrapped up in themes of Stephen King horror or Russian tales of romance and fancy.
Because real life—and all that came with it—was both, interspersed with the good, the bad, the fanciful and everything in-between.
The real thing was so much better.
And it didn’t get more real than Noah Quinn staring at me as he walks down the aisle to join his brothers’ side in a dark tuxedo that I could swear was painted on.
I sit on the groom’s side under the newly erected white tents on the Quinn Estates property, my heart full as Noah’s family and my friends watch the proceeding, a misty atmosphere of misty-eyed affection spreading among the guests as Jase Quinn and Mindy Lessman profess their undying love to one another.
I barely had time to change when we returned from The Alchemist after holding Rick inside just long enough for the police to show up.
My jeans are still on, coat and shirt still ruffled. The scuffle with Rick for the gun leaves my already-worn outfit a mess.
I thank the universe and everything in it for my father, Aunt Roberta, Jesse and all the Somerset tips and tricks I’d learned to bring a bastard down as a kid.
The Somerset I’d been and the one I am now, for the first time ever, exist peacefully in my body—both tame and wild at the same time, both criminal and innocent. Both whimsical and sensible.
The urge to rid myself of one in favor of the other dies a quick death as I watch the gray-haired reverend gaze over the adoring couple, his words clear amidst the wet and mystical fog that falls across the lush lawn where the wedding takes place. He stands proudly.
“Do you, Jason Alexander Quinn, take Melinda Clara-Ann Lessman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
Jase’s eyes—brown and filled with warmth—gaze at his would-be wife with pride and love. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows what must be a knot of emotion. His voice, though unsteady, is strong.
“I absolutely do.”
“And do you, Melinda Clara-Ann Lessman, take Jason Alexander Quinn to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
“Hell yeah I do.”
The audience breaks out into laughter.
“And with that note,” the reverend grins, “if there are any objections to the joining of these two people, please speak now or forever hold your peace.”
Jase and Mindy turn immediately, as did Noah, their eyes shooting in the direction of Lachlan who stands perfectly still, his large hands folded in front of him. His eyes widen at his sudden audience.
“What, me? What makes you think I have anything to say?”
The corner of Noah’s lush mouth tugs upward. “I don’t know… Maybe because you always do.”
Lach shifts, seemingly upset at the attention. “Well, I don’t.” He peers over at the reverend. “Keep the wedding going, Rev.”
The elder man nods. “So, without further ado…”
“Wait!” Lachlan exclaims softly. “On second thought…”
Noah nudges him hard, and laughter bubbles up again amidst the guests. The brothers exchange light shoving and prodding, calming down several seconds to an unhappy wedding officiant.
Jase rolls his eyes with a smile. “Please, reverend, continue…before we’re missing two groomsmen from the party.”
The reverend’s voice rings out once again. “I now pronounce you husband and wife.” He motions to Jase. “You may kiss the bride.”
It’s my first wedding, but even I find tears in my eyes as Jase and Mindy seal their union with a kiss. A loud applause crescendos among the crowd, and as I clap, I discover Noah’s eyes on me, his stare focused under a head of ink-like hair, his blue eyes ethereal and almost
