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  Henrik was alive, so their love couldn’t die. Even if she might.

  That was Ailish’s final thought before everything went dim. Then black.

  ...

  Henrik wouldn’t sit in a chair. Didn’t want to experience anything comfortable. Refused to. Ailish is hurt. Ailish is hurt. Ailish is hurt. He longed to slam his head back against the hospital waiting room wall he’d slid down hours before, slipping into a state of numbness on the outside and World War III on the inside, grenades being launched from smoking trenches. Other people were there, too—Derek, Bowen, Erin, Sera, Polly, Austin, Connor—moving like ghosts people catch just before falling asleep, in that space of semiconsciousness. Voices droned from different corners of the room, but he wanted to hear only one voice. Just one. And if they hadn’t gotten Ailish to the hospital in time, he might never hear it again.

  Misery blanketed him, rendering his limbs useless. He could only replay what had taken place in the kitchen, again and again, because reliving the horror is what he deserved for letting his girl get—

  Fuck. She’d been shot. Her blood had been spilled when he’d been only a couple feet away. How? Henrik buried his face in his hands and let the scene gather for the thousandth time. Caine’s weapon had been down. Out of his reach. Connor had already been in the process of handcuffing Gordy. Ailish’s father had been almost subdued, his body slumping, one hand reaching up to cover the bullet wound Henrik had inflicted. But then he’d just…come to life. He’d dived across the floor and fired the shot in under a second. And the quickest one to react had been Ailish.

  To shield him.

  Henrik’s lungs struggled to draw air. If he lost the woman he loved tonight, not even the knowledge that Caine had died on the floor of his own kitchen would avenge her. There was no vengeance to be had. There’s nowhere to go from here.

  “Son.”

  The familiar voice broke through the wall of agony Henrik had erected around himself, but it was only a minor puncture. Something firmly ingrained in his being—a learned respect—had Henrik lifting eyes to his father. But he only nodded once and began to replay the scene. Again. A sigh came from above, and Henrik registered his father dropping to the floor beside him, leaning against the wall.

  “I might be retired, but I still hear about most things.” He tapped a fist on his knee, a mannerism Henrik associated with family breakfasts, church services. “So you can be sure I heard what you did tonight. Earned your badge back, Captain Tyler tells me.”

  Henrik said nothing. But he glanced up long enough to realize his mother and sister were in the waiting room, too. His mother held a bouquet of roses, but he could only envision them being laid on a grave.

  His father shifted beside him. “This girl—Ailish O’Kelly—she’s the one you lost your career over?”

  “I’d do it again.” His voice was hoarse from shouting. “Or I’d find her sooner. Take her away so none of it would’ve happened. Not like this.”

  They were silent for long minutes before his father spoke again. “What you did—I would’ve done the same for your mother. And I should have trusted that you were good. I shouldn’t have turned my back.” The older man gained his feet with help from the wall. “We’d like to meet her when she’s better.”

  When she’s better. When she’s better. Those words echoed for God knew how long. It could have been hours or days before the doctor entered the waiting room. Everyone in the room stood. The squad, his parents. The doctor removed his glasses and rubbed tired-looking eyes with two fingers before replacing them. “Ms. O’Kelly is in recovery.” He scanned the room, as though looking for someone. “She’s asking for someone named Growler.”

  Henrik was moving through the room like a launched cannonball before the doctor even made it to the nickname. Barreling through the hospital corridor, he didn’t allow relief to accumulate. Hadn’t he felt relief just hours ago, with the feeling ending in Ailish being shot? No. He wouldn’t relax until he felt life pulsing beneath her skin. Until her hazel eyes laughed back at him.

  “Lish.” Henrik said her name as he turned the corner into the recovery room. And he halted. Because even with breathing tubes in her nose, color missing from her face, she was the most incredible sight he’d come across in his life. “Lish. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  Ailish reached out a hand and smiled.

  Henrik lunged across the room to take it, falling to his knees beside the hospital bed and bowing his head over her prone body. When he felt her light touch stroke over his neck, thankfulness flowed through his veins like an antidote.

  “I would do it again,” she murmured, her voice partially obscured by the beeping machines. “Before you say anything, I want you to know that. And I’ll never change my mind.”

  Hearing the words he’d spoken to his father in the waiting room, Henrik could only stare at the girl who’d become his entire damn world in a short space of time. Until that moment, with their shared sentiment hanging in the air, he hadn’t fully understood what it meant to love someone, beyond the soul-wrenching shock of it. What it meant to love someone strong and capable and kind and brimming with potential. His Ailish. She’d wanted equal measure—demanded it—and giving it to her meant accepting that measure in all forms, good or bad. Always.

  “Baby…” He blew out an uneven breath, checking the instinct to lecture Ailish or demand she never endanger herself again. “Thank you for saving my life.”

  Her smile could have powered Chicago for a year. “Thank you for saving mine, too.” A laugh tumbled from her mouth, but there were tears shining in her eyes. “I love you so much.”

  “That’s a good thing,” Henrik managed around the manacle choking his throat. “Because you can’t get away from me so long as you’re in that bed. And I’m not budging until you can budge with me.” He shook his head. “I have a feeling I’m going to be a worse patient than you are.”

  Tears shone in her eyes. “Because you love me, too.”

  Henrik leaned down and kissed Ailish, rejoicing over the warmth—the life—that greeted him. In his mind, an image rolled like an old home movie. Ailish walking toward him in the park, wearing her green dress. Except this time she smiled wide and opened her arms to greet him. “You’re damn right I love you.”

  Epilogue

  Four months later

  Ailish was nervous. Which was ridiculous. In a handful of months, she’d survived two attempted kidnappings, a gun battle, and a fiancé who—although he’d taken some convincing that she was actually, fully recovered—couldn’t seem to stop dragging her into their bedroom every chance he got. She could admit, however, that surviving two hundred and fifty pounds of solid, groaning, aggressive male wasn’t exactly a hardship.

  Speaking of her fiancé, he was next to go up on stage at the Chicago Police Department induction ceremony. At Derek’s urging, the department had been prepared to reinstate Henrik as one of their own the week following their stint undercover with Caine; Henrik had been adamant about waiting until Ailish had recovered from her gunshot wound and could attend the ceremony.

  “I need you there with me to give it meaning,” Henrik had said the morning Derek dropped in to deliver news of the department’s decision. Knowing how much having his badge back meant to him, Ailish had urged him to take the honor as soon as possible, but true to his word, he’d been more concerned with her comfort at the hospital. Making sure the doctors were attentive, bringing by her new friends—Erin, Sera, and Polly—to entertain her.

  Which had promptly backfired. Listening to the exciting stories of their undercover squad adventures had sparked an interest in Ailish. The possibility of being a part of a team was something she’d never allowed herself to hope for. But she’d had something to offer. Maybe the girl she’d been while growing up within the walls of her father’s home wouldn’t have thought herself capable of adding to such a group of skilled individuals—criminals or not—but she wasn’t that girl now. When she’d brought up her idea to
Henrik, he’d looked seasick, but warmed to the idea upon realizing Ailish wouldn’t be in harm’s way.

  Ailish was now the accountant for the undercover squad, a position that had become necessary thanks to the department’s influx of funding after they’d not only broken up Caine’s operation, but implicated over twenty local politicians in his various schemes. Now that the team members were being paid a salary, they even turned to Ailish for advice sometimes. Some of them, thanks to their growing families.

  Case in point, Bowen and Sera, who had just walked into the auditorium. Bowen guided Sera into the empty seat beside Ailish, even more protective than usual because of the baby she carried in her belly, three months along. “Sorry we’re late,” Sera whispered. “Did we miss it?”

  Ailish shook her head. “He’s going up soon.”

  Bowen winked at Ailish, then went back to staring at his wife. Ailish smiled to herself, thinking back to the squad meeting when Sera had announced she was pregnant—out of necessity, since the ex-cop couldn’t work in the field until the baby was born, or risk Bowen’s sanity.

  Sera had gotten queasy during a case breakdown and Austin had handed her a wastebasket, casually asking her when she was due, effectively blowing Sera’s surprise. Bowen hadn’t been capable of speech for the better part of an hour, simply holding Sera on his lap and speaking in low, urgent tones against her ear, his eyes suspiciously wet.

  Speaking of Austin, he and Polly were in the back row, closest to the exit. They weren’t in a place just yet where trusting a roomful of cops was in their repertoire. The pair had become something of a legend among the department in the last few months, their undercover disguises and fabricated identities known for being airtight, putting them in high demand.

  Erin and Connor, hovering near the auditorium window, were still Ailish’s favorite, though. She and Erin had continued their tradition of taking nightly walks in various locations around Chicago, while their boyfriends sweated out their absence at home. Now Erin sent her a pinkie wave, then gave her the universal sign for hand job, while Connor smiled down at her fondly. Ailish didn’t keep any secrets from Erin. She’d confided the trials of her childhood to Erin and in return, the blond escape artist had told Ailish enough. Enough for now. And they got a little further every day. One secret she hadn’t related to Erin had something to do with the ring box in Connor’s pocket—containing the sapphire engagement ring she’d helped pick out. But come tomorrow, hopefully that secret would take care of itself.

  Yes, Ailish had a family now, and they were more than she could have asked for. They were loud, challenging, and loyal to a fault. She loved them all. But it was nothing compared to the love contained inside her for Henrik. As if she’d called his name across the crowded room, her fiancé found her gaze through the audience and smiled that bedroom smile of his. The one that said, we’re going to lose everything but the fitted sheet tonight, baby.

  Ailish cooled her cheeks with the backs of her hands. Henrik had proven to be…creative. Understatement. Since that stolen night when he’d given her a spanking in the closet of her old house, they’d discovered new things about each other and themselves. Things that involved a lot of teasing. And a whole heap of discipline. Things she craved. No matter where they were. Even a long-awaited induction ceremony where her future in-laws were occupying the row in front of her.

  Applause broke out around Ailish when Captain Tyler was announced on the podium. The whispered conversations taking place around her ceased immediately, an air of respect and fascination falling over the crowd. Derek had become a revered icon among his peers, and it showed in their silent deference. Not only had he quieted the naysayers who’d doubted his ability to handle a squad of criminals effectively, but his investigation into Caine had created a ripple effect around Chicago. With the evidence produced by Ailish and Henrik going undercover, Chicago had the lowest crime rate recorded in decades. The captain ruled the city with an iron fist, daring anyone to doubt him again. Well, he ruled everyone but his wife, Ginger, and toddler daughter, Dolly, who both beamed up at him from the front row, clearly ruling the captain with ease.

  “I’m not going to make a speech,” Derek started. “I have to get back to work. But I’m proud to say Officer Henrik Vance will be getting back to work with me. Even honest men makes mistakes, and Vance is as honest as they come.” The captain tipped his head toward Ailish’s stoic fiancé. “Vance. Come get your damn badge back.”

  ...

  “If we weren’t engaged, I think my mother would actually try to adopt you,” Henrik muttered into her neck as their elevator ascended to the fifth floor. When Ailish had been restless from spending far too many hours in a hospital bed, she’d made a few decisions. After having her mother’s body excavated from the backyard and given a proper burial, Ailish sold Caine’s house. She and Henrik had used some of the money to buy a two-bedroom condo near Connor and Erin’s apartment. Her very own home she could decorate herself and roam about at will. The second bedroom would be occupied by their future son or daughter, but for now, Henrik’s parents occasionally spent the night. Making up for lost time, they called it.

  “I thought they were going to follow us home from dinner.” Ailish laughed. “But your father definitely caught you making slashing motions behind his back.”

  Henrik lifted her off the ground, sighing in satisfaction when Ailish locked her heels around his waist. “He’ll get over it. I needed you to myself tonight.”

  Her back met the elevator wall on a gasp. “I need that, too.”

  When the doors rolled open, revealing the fifth-floor hallway, Henrik stepped out into the dimness, moving toward the very last door along the wall. Their home. Ailish smooshed her grinning face onto his shoulder as they walked inside, greeted by the familiar scent of gardenias, which she kept in a vase on the dining room table. Henrik’s hands slid along the outsides of her thighs, gliding beneath her dress to cup her bottom, and she forgot all about homey scents. Ailish shifted and felt his need where it grew between his thighs, eager to be planted inside her. Her limbs growing simultaneously languid and tight from arousal, Ailish dragged her teeth down the side of Henrik’s neck and listened to his growl of approval.

  “You’re officially engaged to a cop after today,” Henrik said, laying Ailish out on the bed and stripping the damp panties down her legs, leaving them forgotten on the floor. “How do you feel about that?”

  “I’m engaged to you, no matter what you are.” She sat up, moving to a kneeling position so she could divest Henrik of his tie and dress shirt. When the final button had been undone and the garment fell, she ran a flat palm over the fresh keyhole-shaped tattoo over his heart. The one that corresponded to the shape of her necklace perfectly. “Do you remember what I said to you that first day in the park?”

  “I’ll remember it until I leave this earth,” he said, his voice gruff. “You said, ‘Do you ever wonder whose side you’re really on, Officer?’”

  Ailish nodded. “I know the answer now. We’re on each other’s side. We already were that day, weren’t we?”

  “Yes.” Henrik hissed the word as Ailish stroked his need, hard, the way he liked it. “I’m hungry, Lish.” He plowed his hands into her hair, wound the strands around his fists. “I liked the way you looked at me today.”

  Looking up at her fiancé through the shield of her eyelashes, Ailish undid the fastening and zipper of his pants. “What way is that?”

  “Like I was a man you could be proud of. That you are proud of.” His grip on her hair increased just enough to part Ailish’s lips. “Now I want you to look at me that other way. Like you need to tell me I’m being a little too rough, but you can’t form the words.”

  “Oh. That way,” Ailish breathed, drawing his erection out and massaging the whole of him with both hands. “Can I tell you I love you before I stop being able to speak?” She pressed their foreheads together. “I love you, Officer Vance.”

  Ailish was flat on her back in second
s, legs held apart. “I love you, Ailish O’Kelly—” Pushing deep inside her, Henrik broke off on a groan. “Forever.”

  Acknowledgments

  I’m very sad to see the Crossing the Line series end. Really, it’s not just the end of one series, but the final note of my Line of Duty series, too, because we’re saying good-bye to Captain Derek Tyler, who helped me thread two unforgettable groups of characters together. And no one could have done it but him. He’s been with me since the beginning, and I love him dearly. I can’t tell you what it meant to me, leaving him on the stage, a legend among the department.

  There are other (real) people who were vital to the existence of the Crossing the Line series. But number one will always be the readers who spent their hard-earned money on each book and allowed me to tell them a story. Thank you for trusting me and taking journey after journey with me—I promise I’ll never take it for granted.

  Thank you to my husband, Patrick, and daughter, Mackenzie, for getting me through every day. Sometimes I worry about things outside my control and then I look at you guys, and realize you’re the only thing that matters.

  Thank you to my editor Heather Howland, at Entangled Publishing, for encouraging me to spin off the Line of Duty series and being all-around invaluable when making my words make sense.

  About the Author

  New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author Tessa Bailey lives in Brooklyn, New York, with her husband and young daughter. When she isn’t writing or reading romance, she enjoys a good argument and thirty-minute recipes.

  the Line of Duty series

  Protecting What’s His

  Officer Off Limits

  Asking for Trouble

  Staking His Claim