The O’Connells Books 10 - 12

Epilogue

Epilogue

Suzanne and Jenny had packed her suitcase, and Marcus had tossed it in the back of her car, which Luke had driven to take her to the airport even though she hadn’t wanted to go. None of them would hear her arguments. Now here she was, in a country she’d never been to before, alone, when the best thing for her would’ve been to be with her family.

The heat was welcome, the sun was bright, and the humidity soaked her white T-shirt as she took in the cottage on the ocean. It was white and cute.

The man who’d driven her smiled, his teeth bright white against his dark skin. “Mrs. O’Connell, this is it. You call me and let me know if you need anything,” he said as he walked back from the cottage after carrying her two large suitcases in for her.

Her purse was over her shoulder, and she realized this was where she was supposed to tip him, so reached into it, but he just shook his head.

“No, no, no,” he said. “It’s all taken care of. Your suitcases are on the front porch, and here are the keys. Can I get you anything else?”

She took the set of keys from him. The breeze had kicked up, though it did little to help with the heat. She felt the way her shirt stuck to her back. Even the light cotton slacks she’d traveled in felt too heavy in this heat, and she was so tired from the hours on the plane that she wanted a shower and maybe a nap. She took in the man, who was still waiting for an answer, and shook her head. The place was private, but she knew it wasn’t that far of a walk to the shops and restaurants.

“No, that’s fine, thank you,” she said, then watched as he lifted his hand and walked back to the old jeep, in which he’d picked her up at the airport and driven her across the island to this spot, which she had to admit was beautiful.

Her sunglasses on, she started to the house. On the porch, she took in her bags and the way the waves crashed against the shore. She breathed in the salty air, the warmth, and then turned to the door and slid the key in the lock.

Inside the cottage, a towel was tossed over the orange and brown sofa, and two glasses were sitting on the counter with a gift basket of wine. Evidently, they had figured she’d be with someone. She reached for the bottle of red, knowing Karen would’ve loved it.

“You sure you want a glass this early?”

She damn near dropped the bottle. She felt the floor beneath her soften, hearing a voice she’d thought she’d never hear again, and she turned around.

Emotion hit her hard, right in the stomach, so hard that for a second, she had to remind herself to breathe. He was barefoot in shorts and a white T-shirt, and he lifted his sunglasses and stepped into the cottage—tall, dark, handsome, and not dead.

“What is this?” Her voice sounded off. Her heart was pounding as he stepped closer.

“You look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” he said, walking right over to her.

When she pressed her hands to her face, she couldn’t stop the tears. “Damn you, Raymond O’Connell! What…? How…?”

That was all she could get out, as he was right there in front of her, his arms around her, and he had pulled her tight against him. He kissed the top of her head as she cried against him, and he held her so tight until she could stop this damn crying.

She slid her hands over his chest, looking up at him, a man she loved so deeply.

“It was the only way to be truly free,” he said. “So you and the kids wouldn’t be hunted forever, I had to die.”

She pulled her hand across her face again and took him in. “I don’t understand. Did the kids know? How? I was told you were killed, shot. Brady and Alison saw. We buried you!” she yelled. This wasn’t making any sense. She gripped his T-shirt and squeezed, and his hands covered hers as she tried to make sense of everything.

“Only Luke, Marcus, Ryan, Jack, and Harold knew,” he said. “No one else could. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you, and it damn near killed me, but it was the only way. It had to seem real. Everyone had to think I was dead. Luke said he would tell everyone after the funeral, after Mossad heard I was dead and no longer a threat to them. There was no other way.”

His hands slid over her shoulders, and he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead. His hands were on her face now, holding her, looking at her. Then he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her lips, a kiss she’d thought she’d never feel again. When he pulled back, he didn’t let her go. She settled into his arms.

“But you were shot,” she said. “I was told you were shot and killed. Brady said it had come through the window, and…”

He had said the man who held a gun at them had been killed, too, shot dead. It was a horrible situation. She looked up at Raymond and saw the grimness there.

“We didn’t know if it would work. We had to plan something fast when we learned where Brady and Alison were being held. Harold is the best shot, according to Marcus. He was across the street with a long-range rifle, and I had on a bulletproof vest. I counted on Harold and put my trust in someone because my son said to. Luke had a blood bag, and he had me take ketamine before we got there. Apparently, his team supplied everything we needed without asking any questions. The drug is fast acting. It knocked me out and had me appearing dead. Harold shot and killed Saul shortly after. He was the man who was there that night with Ivan, the man you killed. They were never going to go away, because I was wanted for treason, and they weren’t about to let me walk. Luke said the other three left with a photo of me dead on their phones. The funeral had to happen, because they had to believe it was real. I’m sorry, but it was the only way. I had to die. I’m so sorry for the pain I knew we had to bring you, and I hope you’ll forgive me.”

She wrapped her hands around his wrists, feeling him tuck her short dark hair behind her ears. “You look pretty damn good for a dead man,” she said, then lifted her head, taking in the man she’d never thought she’d get her forever with.

He lowered his head again, pressed his forehead to hers and another kiss to her lips.

“You’ll have to make it up to me,” she breathed out after she pulled back.

“Since I’m now dead, I’ll do more than that.”

“So what does this mean for you and me?”

He ran his hands over her back and down, holding her against him. “It means we get a second chance at the lifetime we were cheated of.”

“But Raymond O’Connell is dead.”

“Yeah, but that’s the thing about being dead: You get to come back as someone else.”

As he pressed his hands to her cheeks again, she looked up into the face of the man she’d married so long ago, the father of her six children. Now here he was, with her again.

“And just so you know, Iris,” he said, “we really are better together than apart.”

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