Epilogue
MACY
The memory of when I almost died eighteen months ago in a blood-soaked alleyway is hazy compared to the memory of Grayson adjusting the tilt of my hips so he could spear his tongue deep inside my soaked pussy.
Our X-rated foray in the shower was only hours ago, so I could blame time for the haziness, but that would be a copout.
Every day I share with Grayson makes the painful ones less memorable.
You’re meant to get clean in the shower, but our morning ritual is as important to us as ensuring our son always has one of his parents at his beck and call. It also reminds us that living isn’t solely for the people we’re endeavoring to find.
We deserve a life as well.
Now, instead of being devoured by a man who eats pussy like it could sustain him for eternity, I’m sitting cross-legged on the living room floor of our Ravenshoe home, surrounded by a fortress of case files that fortunately missed last night’s applesauce disaster.
The engagement ring shimmering on my finger is a constant reminder that I’m supposed to be planning a wedding in only six weeks. I wish I could hunker down and iron out all the details, but I can’t yet. Not until I bring Kendall home.
Mason is seated next to me, babbling to a tatty board book that didn’t survive his eighteen-month molars as well as his teethers did.
He’s still a baby, but every day he looks less like the fragile preemie I held in the hospital and more like a little boy.
His hair is a wild mop of curls, and his cheeks are chubby and adorable.
I’d give anything to freeze time, to cherish these years a little longer, but that would also mean waiting even longer to bring Kendall home.
I can’t do that.
It is time to bring her home.
I rub my eyes, tired from waking up at 4 a.m. to make sure I get my fill of Grayson before Mason wakes a little after 6, before scanning the latest report from Crew.
He’s been working with Grayson and me nonstop, and although I’ve said this multiple times over the past eighteen months, I honestly feel like we’re close to bringing Kendall home. Really close.
After Cameron’s ties to the La eMe came to light, we began taking female mafia leaders as seriously as their male counterparts. The intel has been shocking, leading to multiple arrests and the disbandment of over a dozen syndicates.
It is also what led us to India Dvo?áks—a ghost in the system, but a woman as ruthless as any man.
India is the key to the syndicate that swallowed my sister when she was resold four and a half years ago, and although she is cunning, she isn’t invincible.
We’ve tracked her through three countries, documented her burning through multiple identities, and now, finally, we have solid intel that she is on US soil.
Although I wish we could storm in and arrest her solely on hearsay, we can’t. We need enough evidence to take her down permanently, and we won’t get that without help. We need someone who understands the rules of the underworld and can walk into the den without getting eaten alive.
That person is Maddox Walsh, the man I took the rap for when he murdered the scum who had assaulted me.
He’s not a gang affiliate, not technically, but he is as deep into this case as I am.
His fragile state all those years ago was because he was grieving the death of his unborn child—the child India orchestrated to be murdered since its birth would have had ties strong enough to run the Italian cartel.
For the past two weeks, I’ve been working outside the bureau’s safety net.
I have tucked my badge away in a drawer, and my loyalties are split between the agency that trained me and the one that will get things done.
I’m straddling the line between good and evil, but since I will always ensure my karma balance is even, the consequences of my actions have yet to bite me.
Mason jumps up eagerly when the familiar creak of our front door trickles throughout our coastal bungalow. He sprints for the entryway, shouting his version of “Daddy, Daddy!” with every step he takes.
With a squeal that announces my baby is a toddler, he launches himself into Grayson’s arms. A flood of euphoria heats my veins when Grayson catches him mid-flight before he spins him around the foyer while covering his cheek with sloppy kisses.
Grayson only left two hours ago, but you wouldn’t know that from Mason’s reaction. You’d swear he’s been gone a year.
My response to his return isn’t much better.
I’m dying for the sultry smirk he gives me in the seconds leading to his mouth landing on mine.
Things are still wildly hot between us, and that has me unenthusiastic about my first undercover gig not under his command.
I’ll still go, though, because the instant my sister is home, I will no longer be afraid that what I’m able to give Grayson isn’t enough.
I join Grayson and Mason in the foyer of our home. “How did it go with Alex?”
“Good. I’m on leave for as long as you need.” For half a second, I get the smirk I’m dying to see before Grayson’s lips brush the corner of my mouth. After breathing in deeply, he inches back. “Did you wash your hair? You smell like—”
I sock him in the stomach before he scars our son for life, and then I spin to face the suitcase I packed in a hurry last night. It took an Oscar-worthy performance to get Maddox to agree with my plan, but by trusting him, I am slowly earning his trust.
We fly out in a little under two hours, hence Grayson needing approval from his superior to take time off.
“What did you tell Alex?”
It takes Grayson a long time to answer. So much, I think he never will. “I said you were going to visit your grandmother, who is unwell.”
He hates lying in general, but it’s worse when it comes to the people who love and protect us.
“Are you sure you want to run point on this case, freckles?” He uses my nickname on purpose, hoping it will hide the worry in his tone. “I can swap with you.”
I smile, wordlessly acknowledging my appreciation of his offer before declining it.
“I need to be there.” Once I’ve slipped my fake ID and passport into the front pocket of my suitcase, I turn to face him.
“Besides, you promised Mason you’d take him to the first game Lennox Jamison pitches. That’s this weekend.”
“Because I never thought Lennox would skip his final year of college to go pro early.”
I act as if he never spoke. “And I would never forgive myself if I weren’t there to bring her home. We’re close, Grayson. So close I can feel it.”
Before I can blink back the tears welling in my eyes, Grayson cups my face, and his thumb strokes my thankfully dry cheek. “I feel it too, Mace. It’s time.”
He kisses me, aware that no amount of devastation could keep me from responding to the love he portrays when he worships me. It is a blistering embrace that would usually have Kailany gagging like she doesn’t witness her mom and dad doing it a hundred times a day.
“More. Please.”
I fist Grayson’s shirt and tug him back to me when he notches back long before I’ve had my fill.
His muffled laugh warms my heart as much as his lips do, and it frees me to leave knowing everything will be okay.
I have a man who loves me, a son who will never feel as alone as both his parents once did, and a team who knows sometimes it is okay to scuff the line between good and evil if it achieves a positive response.
Even if I don’t bring Kendall home today, I will one day.
Faith assures me of this.
And so does Grayson.
His love is the light that guides me through the darkness, and it is bright enough to bring Kendall out of the dark, too.
GRAYSON
I pace the length of the kitchen, phone pressed to my ear and eyes flicking between my laptop’s live feed and the clock.
Every second Macy is out there, my nerves coil tighter.
Covert operations don’t hand out second chances.
This is our only shot. If we pull this off, we will get Macy’s sister back.
If we don’t… I don’t allow myself to finish my thought.
It is too devastating to consider. It could fracture Macy beyond repair.
The voice of one of Crew’s team members crackles through the speaker. “Macy and her target are exiting the tattoo parlor. The block is clear. No sign of any threats.”
“Copy. Keep eyes on her. She’ll improvise if needed.”
My finger has only just slipped off the mic button when a knock sounds at my door. I freeze. I’m not expecting any visitors.
After a quick update on Macy’s location, I head to my front door. I crack it open an inch, inwardly groaning when I spot my father on the porch, hands in his pockets and eyes as sharp as ever.
“Grayson,” he greets, like he’s dropped in for coffee.
“Dad?” My response reads like a question rather than a greeting. I move closer, obscuring the view of the makeshift command center in the kitchen. “What are you doing here?”
“Thought I’d check on my grandson.” Something in his tone sets my nerves on edge, though I lose the chance to clarify what it is when Mason squeals before he races our way.
My dad scoops him up, bouncing him gently on his hip. “Hey, buddy. How have you been?” I can’t understand a word Mason replies, but my dad acts as if he is fluent in baby talk. “You want to talk to Mommy? Sure. Let’s see if she’s available.”
“Dad…” I growl out in warning.
He ignores me. With Mason balanced on his hip and his phone in his hand, he hits the call button as if he preloaded Macy’s number.
Macy answers his call four rings later. “Hello.”
“Hello, dear. Mason is missing you, so I thought we’d ring to see how you are. How is your grandmother? Sick, I hear.”
Macy maintains her cover. “Grandma is good. She’s doing a lot better than the doctors let on. I don’t think I’ll need to stay as long as first perceived. I should be back in a couple of days.”