"Wh-what?" Eve asked. And now there was a tremor in her vocal cords to match the one in her fingers.

Edens licked his lips, shaking his salt-and-pepper head. "Twelve years ago, after you had your cell phone turned off because the press got your number and started hounding you about the photographs, Reichert called the house. He left a dozen messages for you, asking you to call him to let him know what was going on. But I never gave you those messages."

Eve sucked in such a large breath Bill was shocked there was any oxygen left in the room. Her hand flew to her throat, covering the bruises that'd turned from deep purple to a jaundiced-looking yellow. "H-how could you n-" she sputtered, but Edens cut her off.

"And she wrote to you, Reichert. Twice," he said, a muscle ticking in his jaw. He reached into his suit jacket, pulling out two envelopes that were yellowing around the edges. "In the first letter, she laid everything on the line. She sent the pictures and the articles. She begged you to forgive her and asked you to call her at her new phone number. In the second letter, she told you about Blake's proposal, asked if there was any chance you still loved her because she wouldn't go through with it if you did. But I intercepted the letters in the mailbox."

Edens hesitantly stepped forward, handing Bill the envelopes. And when Bill looked down at the things, he couldn't believe his eyes. He lifted the flap on one and out fell the pictures of Eve, those heartbreaking pictures, and the tabloid articles that'd run alongside them. And then there was the note. He'd recognize her handwriting anywhere because he'd lived for her letters, read and reread them thousands of times while he'd been in BUD/S training.

"I-I don't expect either of you to forgive me," Edens said, his nostrils flaring. "But after what you two have been through together, I realize I-" He stopped and cleared his throat, his chin sinking just a notch. "You may not be the kind of man I envisioned for my daughter. But you're the kind of man she needs. And I was...I was wrong to interfere."

He glanced at Eve one more time, his expression softening, his mask of superiority slipping. "I really don't expect you to forgive me, Eve," he whispered again, and if Bill wasn't mistaken, the man's thin lips actually shook. "I just..." He turned and stared out the window at the building across the way. "I just wanted the best for you, and I thought Blake was the best, but you were so stubborn. You refused to..." He stopped, shaking his head. "So, I set out to sabotage the relationship you had with Reichert."

He turned back. There was real, honest-to-G.o.d regret reflected in his gaze, and Bill could hardly believe what he was seeing. The high and mighty Patrick Edens was actually admitting fault.

"But I was wrong," he continued. "What I did, how I did it, was wrong. And I do love you. And I'm so terribly sorry for not believing you were in danger. So terribly sorry for...everything."

And then, with only a second of hesitation, he turned and swept from the room. Eve watched him go, tears streaming unchecked down her face, her jaw hanging open.

h.e.l.l, Bill's jaw was d.a.m.n near sitting on the bed beside him.

Boss and Becky exchanged a look before quickly following Edens from the room, softly closing the door behind them. And that's when Eve glanced down at him, hope and disbelief warring for supremacy in her eyes. "You t-tried to call me?" she asked at the same time he said, "You wrote me and tried to tell me what happened?"

"Yes," they answered in unison. And Bill couldn't help it. He laughed. It hurt like h.e.l.lfire, but he laughed all the same. Because good Lord, it'd been Edens. Edens and his G.o.dd.a.m.ned machinations that'd kept them apart. All these years...it'd been Edens. And he didn't know if his laughter was caused by the joy of knowing Eve had tried to tell him, that she had loved him enough and been brave enough to try to fight for him, or if it was caused by a hysterical kind of fury brought on by the knowledge that her f.u.c.king father had almost cost them everything.

Then, he sobered, shaking his head. Because really, the only thing that mattered was that they loved each other. He could spend years railing against the way things had happened, looking back and lamenting what could have been. Or he could do the smart thing and look forward to what lay ahead...a lifetime of happiness and love. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Eve," he blurted.

Eve knew everything in her world had just changed. She knew from this moment forward things would be different. She would be different. Because Billy loved her. He'd always loved her. And twelve years ago, he hadn't rejected her or her apology. Heck, he hadn't even known about her apology. But even still, even thinking she'd never tried to contact him after the ordeal with Blake, even thinking she'd simply abandoned him with no word, he'd been willing to forgive her, willing to give her another chance.

And now he was asking her to spend the rest of her life with him. Promising her love and support and partnership and s.e.x and adventure. Promising her all the things she'd been missing her whole sorry life. And what did a girl say to something like that?

Well, she said the one only thing she could say. She said, "Yes! Oh, G.o.d, Billy! Yes!"

He smiled then. And it was the most wonderful smile. "Now, come here," he said, pulling on her hand. "Come crawl into this bed with me."

"I don't want to hurt you," she said, frowning at the tubes peeking from his hospital gown and the IVs in his hands.

"The only thing that's hurting me right now is not holding you in my arms," he a.s.sured her.

She turned her head, sticking her tongue in her cheek. "I'm telling you," she a.s.sured him, "getting in bed with you right now isn't a very good idea." She lifted his hand to her lips, grinning against his fingers.

"What? Why?"

"Because I've heard it's quite uncomfortable to get an erection while catheterized."

He barked out a laugh, and it was the most beautiful sound she'd ever heard. She realized then that all the bad things that happened to her over the last few months, even as terrible as they'd been-and, yes, she'd probably need to spend a lot of hours with a psychologist sorting them all out-were worth it. Because in the end, the bad things resulted in one good thing. One wonderful thing. The best thing, in fact. They resulted in her winning Billy back...

Author's Note.

For those of you familiar with the vibrant city of Chicago, Illinois, you'll notice I changed a few places and names, and embellished on the details of others. I did this to suit the story and to better highlight the diversity and challenges of this dynamic city I call home.

Acknowledgments.

Without exception, I have to give kudos to my dear, sweet hubby. From day one you've given me nothing but love, support, and patience. A woman, and particularly a scatterbrained writer, couldn't ask for more. To put it simply, you're awesome-sauce!

Secondly, I have to give major props to my friend and local yachting guru, Daniel J. Somers, for answering my myriad questions about the specific challenges and dangers of sailing on that Great Lake known as Michigan. You were an invaluable resource to this landlubber, Dan. A million thanks. And please know, dear readers, that any mistakes are completely my own...

And not to be forgotten is Mary Somers. Mary, you've been playing the part of my unpaid, unsung, but terribly appreciated west-side publicist since the day the first Black Knights Inc. book hit the shelves. Your enthusiasm for and championing of this series both honors and humbles me. Thank you. Truly.

Finally, a resounding huzzah to our fighting men and women, those in uniform and those out of uniform. You protect our freedom and way of life so we all have the chance to live the American Dream.

About the Author.

Julie Ann Walker is the USA Today and New York Times bestselling author of the Black Knights Inc. romantic suspense series. She is p.r.o.ne to spouting movie quotes and song lyrics. She'll never say no to sharing a gla.s.s of wine or going for a long walk. She prefers impromptu travel over the scheduled kind, and she takes her coffee with milk. You can find her on her bicycle along the lake sh.o.r.e in Chicago or blasting away at her keyboard, trying to wrangle her capricious imagination into submission. For more information, please visit www.julieannwalker.com or follow her on Facebook www.facebook.com/jawalkerauthor and/or Twitter @JAWalkerAuthor.

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