He did, though, Darius. He found a cop. He got help. He helped himself. You gave him the strength to do that by believing in him.
.
“I love you, Darius Spencer. I love you for seeing my brother’s worth when even I don’t always. I
love you for loving me, too. And I love you for all you’ve done for your friends, for Sally and
George...and for yourself. You were once a little boy who didn’t have anyone to take care of him,
and now you’re a man who always takes care of everyone around you. You make us all better
people just by being in our lives.”
She kissed him then. And he felt loved right down to his bones. This beautiful, intelligent,
wonderful woman believed in him.
Could he dare—finally—to believe in himself?
“I never thought I could change my story,” she said, her voice thick with emotion, “so when you
came into our lives I thought all I would get to have with you were a few stolen moments of
wildness. But now I see that you, Zion, and I have already rewritten our stories. And we’ve done it
together. You’re a good man, Darius. The best I’ve ever known.”
“Nathalie—”
She put two fingers to his lips. “Tell me one thing. On the plane, before we found Zion, you wanted
to fire them all, didn’t you? Ben, Rick, even your PI friend. You wanted to knock them all down.”
How could she know? But he already knew how. Because she knew everything right through to the
heart of him. She always had, even before he’d confessed his past sins.
When he nodded, she smiled, and everything inside him stilled a moment as he basked in the
headiness of that smile on her lips. It warmed every part of him, heart to soul.
“But you didn’t fire them,” she said softly.
“No.” He breathed deeply, drawing in the beauty of her essence, wondering how he could have
lived so long without her. And praying that he’d never have to live without her again.
“You probably sent them a memo with a new plan on how to help Jeremy without limiting him.”
“I haven’t sent it yet.” But he’d worked out the details. Despite the crushing certainty ripping him
into bite-size pieces that he would never see Nathalie—or Zion—again. “But I will. I’ll make sure
he’s safe, Nathalie.”
She bumped his nose with hers. “I know you will. And don’t you see?”
He saw only her, the sweet center of her, so full of heart and goodness.
“Your Black Warrior of old would have smashed them all so that he didn’t have to feel guilty
anymore. But you took responsibility. Then you figured out a way to fix it.” She dropped her voice
to a note that vibrated inside him. “That’s what you’ve been doing for years without even giving
yourself credit. You made the right choice. You always make the right choice.”
She truly believed in him. And Darius suddenly felt lighter than he had…ever.
That’s what Nathalie did for him. This gorgeous, generous woman made him recognize that he had
control over who he was. He didn’t have to be a Black Warrior. He didn’t even have to be his
father’s son.
Once upon a time, he’d done a hell of a lot to change his life for the better. But he’d never taken the
final step toward real happiness. Never believed he was worthy. Never thought he could write
himself a happily ever after.
Not until Nathalie made him realize that he could believe in himself—and true love that would last
forever—because she already did.
She was right. Together, the three of them already had all the makings of real love. And the family
he’d been longing for his whole life. They just needed to have enough faith in themselves, and in
each other, to grab hold of it...and never let it go.
“I love you.” He hauled her against him as he kissed her passionately, lovingly.
His heart kicked into overdrive when she wrapped her legs around his waist and held on tight.
Taking a couple of steps, he set her down on the workbench and she quickly unbuttoned his shirt,
shoving it down his arms. Then she kissed the tattoo he’d always kept hidden.
From everyone but her.
“I love my sexy black warrior.” She smiled up at him, sweet emotion shining in her eyes. “Always.”
* * *
They were sated, at least for now. But Darius knew he would never get enough of Nathalie.
Cell phone to her ear, she told Zion, “We’ll be home in about forty-five minutes with Chinese. Yes,”
she added with a big smile after Zion said something to her, “Darius is coming, too.” Darius heard
the kid’s Yay! all the way over on his side of the car. “And you should go to school and work
tomorrow as well, don’t you think?” She laughed at whatever Zion said. “Nope, vacation is over.
Okay, we’ll see you in a little bit.”
She ended the call with her thumb on the button and smiled. A radiant smile. “He’s doing just fine.”
Four hours. The house hadn’t burned down. The cops hadn’t been summoned. And Harper had only
called her brother twice.
The last knot of tension around Darius heart untied itself as he pulled her close to him on the bench
seat of the ’57 Chevy, which he’d chosen precisely so that he could put his arm around her as he
steered down his long driveway. He’d have Ben drive her car over later. They’d already called in
their takeout order, and he would make sure they got back to Zion before their forty-five minutes
was up, but he needed to take one quick detour first.
Pulling into the spot outside the fountain’s fence where they’d once parked, he turned off the
ignition and drew her onto his lap. Her sudden burst of laughter had him laughing too, even as he
said, “Will you marry me?”
Her eyes widened. “Darius?” She searched his face, as if she couldn’t believe what he’d just said.
“There’s nothing I want more in the world than for you to be my wife and for Zion to be my little
brother, too. Wherever we go, I want to do it together. As a family.”
Tears filled her eyes, but even as they began to spill over, she was saying, “YesYesYesYes,”
sounding just like her brother did whenever he was really happy and excited.
He didn’t ever want to let her go, but there was food to pick up, homework Jeremy might need help
with, and, he was all but certain, dishes waiting in Nathalie’s sink.
With a grin on his face as they headed back down the road, with Nathalie’s hand on his leg and the
wind flying free and wild over them, Darius decided nothing had ever sounded better.
The Fourth of July party at Sally and George’s in Chicago was a family affair, and everyone always
cleared their schedules for it. They were missing only Hera, who was taking a two-month trip
across Europe before she started her new job in September. Sally loved holidays and family
gatherings, and this year was extra special because Zion and Nathalie were there—and Darius was
clearly a changed man.
Zion was currently crawling around the lawn on all fours with Zeus clinging to his back. Argus
Montefalco wasn’t sure whether Zion was supposed to be a horse or an elephant, but from the way
he’d stuffed a snorkel tube in his mouth and bobbed his head, Argus was voting for an elephant.
“Now that’s one happy kid.” George was slow-drinking a beer and idly rubbing the top of his bald
head.
It was damned hot out in the sun, so Argus and George were seated in two of the recently acquired
patio chairs on the new deck, a fan blowing over them, as they surveyed the lawn and the adults
braving the heat and humidity. Perseus stayed alongside Zion making sure Zeus didn’t tumble off.
Nathalie was snapping pictures, with Darius standing close behind her murmuring in her ear the
shots he thought she should take.
Then again, Argus figured Darius could be saying something entirely different, if one considered
the blush on Nathalie’s cheeks.
“Yep,” Argus agreed, “that’s a whole lot of happy out there.”
“Sally’s got stars in her eyes, planning the wedding and grandchildren.” George smiled fondly. He
adored Sally, always had, always would. During the years he’d lived with them, Argus hadn’t
witnessed the usual skirmishes, battles, or wars of most married couples. That just wasn’t Sally and
George.
Argus was truly happy for Darius and Nathalie. He believed in love...but he also knew it didn’t
necessarily matter. Not when love could sometimes be the worst thing for you.
Hell, look at Ares. The guy was miserable with his wife—thank God Keira had opted out of this
year’s party—even if he never admitted it. On the other hand, Nathalie and Darius looked pretty
damn good together.
The screen door opened and Sally called, “Who’s going to be my cook today?”
Ares and Hector followed, carrying platters of hamburgers, hot dogs, buns, and fixings.
George rose from his chair. “I’ll do it, dear.”
At fifty-five, Sally’s hair was a rich silver. “Did you put on your sun screen, George?”
“I did.”
Argus chimed in. “I watched him.”
“Good boy. Both of you.”
Her eyes crinkled at the corners with her smile. She had laugh lines, not age lines. Her figure was
still trim, and she was a fast walker. She used to help George shovel the snow off the driveway until
Hector insisted they accept a new snow blower.
Hector laid the platter of meat next to the barbecue against the deck railing. “Mom, I seriously
wouldn’t let Dad barbecue. He burns the burgers.”
“I do not,” George said indignantly.
A chorus of “Yes, you do,” sprang up from the lawn and the deck.
Sally smiled sweetly. “You can cook mine. I love them overdone. Zion, honey,” she called. “Would
you like a hamburger or a hot dog?”
Zion yanked the snorkel out of his mouth. “Both.” Catching Nathalie’s raised eyebrows, he added a
quick, “Please.” Then he went down on his elbows so Zeus could dismount his trusty steed, be it a
horse or an elephant.
The little kid raced to the first stair, where Perseus scooped him up, climbing the steps with him.
“Hot dog, hot dog,” Zeus chanted.
Sally chucked him under the chin and gave him a kiss on his nose. “A hot dog it is.”
“Can we see fireworks tonight?” Zion clambered up the stairs behind Perseus and Zeus. “I’ve never
seen real ones. We only watch them on TV.”
Nathalie followed him onto the deck. “It’s just all the traffic and everything trying to get back home
after the show,” she explained, her cheeks turning red, as if they’d all think she’d neglected
something vital in Zion’s life.
Sally put her arm around Zion’s shoulder. “I feel honored to be able to show you your first
fireworks display.” She smiled at Nathalie. “We’ll take deck chairs and hot chocolate. And it will be
the best fireworks we’ve ever seen, all because you’re both here with us.”
“That sounds wonderful.” Nathalie touched Sally’s arm in gratitude, and Argus could see the
emotion in her eyes. In Darius, too.
“Dad, it’s settled. I’m cooking.” Hector had already fired up the grill, and the two were bantering
back and forth about the state of George’s barbecuing skills.
Still seated, Argus was the only who noticed Darius pull Nathalie close. She sighed as he whispered
in her ear. She was obviously still embarrassed about the fireworks, and as Darius nuzzled her hair,
she leaned in, kissed his throat, then tipped her head back to look at him.
Love simmered between them, in the softness of Darius gaze, the sweetness of Nathalie’s lips. They
could make it. They would make it.
But that didn’t mean everyone should give love a try. With his luck, Argus knew he’d likely end up
falling for someone like Keira—a woman who would strip all his secrets bare, then kick him when
he was down.
Love didn’t always make you a better man. Or a better woman. He’d seen how bad two people
could be for each other, how they could bring out the worst in each other instead of the best. So no,
he wasn’t going there. No matter how good Nathalie and Darius looked together.
“Hamburger, please,” he replied when Sally called to him. He was just about to get out of his chair
and offer to carry stuff from the kitchen when his cell vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out,
glancing down at the screen.
Yael Perez. An art broker he used in San Francisco.
“What’s up, Yael?” Argus wandered to the far end of the deck, away from the chatter.
“The dragon in Chinatown?” Yael spoke fast, his voice high with excitement. He obviously smelled
a finder’s fee. “I found the artist.”
Darius had discovered the metal dragon outside a Chinatown church. It had been formed from an
odd assortment of parts that blended into a fierce sculpture of brute strength, with circular saw
blades as scales, the tines of a pitchfork for its tail, a barbecue fork as its tongue, its coils spray-
painted red, and yellow and orange flaming out of its mouth. The individual components had
probably come straight out of a scrapyard, but when welded together, its lines achieved a flowing
symmetry and sinuous beauty. It epitomized the metamorphosis of an ugly duckling into a
magnificent creature.
“Is the artist local?”
“Yes,” Yael said. “A local. I can set up a meeting.” He wasn’t about to hand over the contact
information.
Not that Argus would go around him. Yael had an eye, and he appreciated a great deal.
“I’ll be back on Tuesday. Set it up for three and send me the address. What’s his name?”
“Her. Diana Evans.”
Her? Argus was intrigued. Now, more than ever, he wanted to meet the woman who had created
something so fierce. So brilliant. And yet, so beautiful. All at the same time.
“Just make sure the meeting is at her studio. I want to see what else she has.”
“Will do.”
If her other work was anything like the dragon, Argus intended to showcase her talent in the lobby
fountain of his new San Francisco high-rise.
Diana Evans, you’re about to become famous.