Page 163 of The Finish Line
“He’s a good boy. He shouldn’t give you much trouble.” The shake in my voice gives me away, and Tobias curses behind me, no doubt out of guilt. But it was my call, and I made it. Mustering my strength, I make it only seconds before Christy pulls me into her arms.
“When will I see you again?” she asks as I hold her tightly to me.
“I’m not sure, but I’ll call you as soon as we get somewhere.”
“I love you.”
“Love you too.”
We hug until the blacked-out Mercedes pulls up to the curb, cueing the end of life as I know it. Christy releases me, her pleading gaze on Tobias. “Don’t give me a reason to come after you.”
He gives her a nod before ushering me inside the idling SUV.
And with the slam of the door, we pull away from the curb. I can feel Tobias’s gaze on me a second before he shouts to the driver.
“Arrêtez!” Stop.
The driver frowns as Tobias shakes his head, giving the order in English. “Stop!”
Confused by his outburst, I turn to him a second before he leaps from the SUV. The driver glances back at me, equally as confused as I scan the streets for any threat I might’ve missed while grabbing my Glock from my purse. A minute later, Tobias opens the door with my other Frenchman in hand, both of them panting as he climbs back into the car, the dog clutched tightly in his embrace as Beau licks his jaw. Tobias flicks his gaze to me, daring me to argue with him before his lips tilt up and he speaks. “I can teach him to shoot.”
Relieved laughter bursts from me as Beau settles across our laps, resting his head on Tobias’s thigh as he lovingly strokes his ears.
“You’re getting soft, King.”
“I don’t give a fuck.”
“I knew you loved him,” I insist as I kiss his upturned lips.
We lace our fingers together in anticipation as we’re swept away from the curb and hurtle into the unknown, hearts pounding, excitement building between us as we speed toward our future.
“We loved with a love that was more than love.”
—Edgar Allan Poe
Epilogue
Tobias
Age Forty-Four
Saint-Jean-de-Luz, France
Meet me at the finish line.
We collide in the middle of the balcony and I lift her from her feet.
“Goddamn you, you bastard!” she cries into my neck. “Please tell me being here means what I think it means.”
Eyes glazing, I inhale her scent as she shakes in my arms. It was close, too close, and we both know it. For the last seven years, we set out on a thousand-dream adventure—mostly mine—and not once has she complained. We fought as often as we fucked. We moved twelve times, dodged bullets, lost friends, fought the good fight, together, and mostly side by side—which was the biggest fight of all. We struggled, felt defeated, rallied, and came back swinging. We utilized our position in every imaginable way, going head-to-head with the biggest threats—mostly corrupt corporations and media conglomerates controlled by deep state. With Cecelia’s help, Molly implemented several programs and passed numerous bills to give aid to those less fortunate.
We fought hard, and it’s been fucking bloody, but we’ve managed to accomplish a lot—and mostly come out unscathed. Preston reigned both his terms with an iron fist, and with the government’s backing and the support of the people, we managed to take out a good amount of trash. My sole focus over the last seven years was to flush out the terrorists who became notorious during Preston’s second year in office. Adversaries who made themselves known to me as I sat on the couch in Virginia years ago during our snow day. When the hairs on my neck rose, and that familiar zing struck me like a bolt of lightning, I knew, I fucking knew that I would make it my mission to rid the world of them even if I had to hunt them down and eradicate them myself.
And two days ago, with the help of the US military, we assassinated the five heads responsible for the movement before we immobilized and imprisoned the rest of the key players. And with that war officially over and the bullets coming too close for comfort, and a long exchanged look with my brothers as we all let out a sigh of relief when we made it into the air, we concluded that the war we waged years ago was over for us as well.
We’d done our part, risked our lives, and the lives of those we loved long enough, taking back control of a corrupted government. We won far too many battles to consider our efforts a failure. And what we fought for were the people we once were and will become again, world citizens—Cecelia, the daughter of a single, struggling mother, and me, an orphan left in the wake of a greedy white-collar emperor who turned out to be a man with a heart a lot like mine. Our worlds collided as those people, and since, we’ve manifested a different reality. One that we worked a lifetime toward.
We have enough birds up to continue our legacy or let it die out—the choice is theirs.