Epilogue
Ian
Two months later
Darkness surrounds me. It conceals as much as it empowers me. This isn’t how I want to spend a Wednesday evening, but it’s been a long time coming, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little excited about what’s going to happen.
Any minute now.
Spinning my wedding ring around my finger, I treasure how it feels. Reminds me of the times I never thought I’d have someone to love like this. And of a time when I thought I’d lost the only person I ended up falling so crazy in love with.
Maggie and I have been married for almost a month now. Neither of us wanted to wait, so as soon as she no longer needed the walker to get around, we called a few friends and headed down to the courthouse. Besides the day I met her, it was the best day of my life.
And after tonight, we’ll be one step closer to having the most perfect ending to our story.
I flip my phone over and sigh. I’ve been waiting here for an hour already. Just as I’m turning my phone face down on my thigh, it vibrates. I look at the screen and smile.
“Chris, how are ya?”
Chris Rivers is a longtime friend of mine and the guys. He’s also an attorney, which came in handy tonight. Unfortunately for him, he keeps claiming not to practice criminal law anymore.
He’ll figure out he still does, eventually.
“Ian, why the fuck do I have ten grand in my account? From you?”
“Is that not your retainer fee?” I ask. To be honest, when he was a defense attorney, it was probably much higher, as he was considered the best in Nashville and possibly beyond.
But I figured it was discounted since he’s been out of the game for a few years.
And with the friend discount I applied, ten grand sounded reasonable.
“Not if you want to retain my services for a contract dispute. Which is the only kind of law I practice. As I have told you idiots repeatedly.”
“Well, let’s just say, you have the retainer, so you’re my attorney for anything that may come up.”
“Ian, what the fuck do I have to do to get you all to understand I don’t fucking do this anymore?” I hear him snapping his fingers. “I got it. A billboard. Do I need a fucking billboard? Will that help?”
Headlights flashing through the front window from someone turning into the driveway illuminate the inside of the house.
“Gotta go. Let’s get a beer soon.”
“Goddamnit, Ian. Don’t-”
I disconnect and slide my phone into the pocket of my jeans, removing the gun from the holster at my side.
I inhale and exhale, calming any remaining emotion in my body and clearing my mind of anything except the task at hand.
It’s only a few minutes before the door clicks open. He steps into the house and flips a switch. The lamps on the end table turn on, revealing the piece of shit I’ve paid a lot of money to find.
“Jenson, it’s been entirely too long, buddy.”
Every penny I spent is worth the visible paling of his skin and the slight tremor that runs through his skinny body. Apparently, being on the run has been difficult for him. He’s lost quite a bit of weight, and the stress has aged his face.
He finally gains a minuscule amount of composure and spits out, “What the fuck are you doing in my house?”
Tilting my head to the side, I regard him for a moment.
“You already know that.” I tap the gun against the top of my thigh, drawing his attention down.
I smirk when his throat muscles work on his heavy swallow.
“A lot of people have been looking for you. Who knew you’re being stowed away in fucking Ohio? ”
“What do you want?” As he speaks, Jenson attempts to reach behind him slowly, toward the doorknob.
“I wouldn’t try to run if I were you. There’s no escaping. I have a buddy outside, and he won’t be nearly as nice as I will.”
I don’t, but Jenson doesn’t need to know that.
I stand, and he tenses. Stalking across the room, I stop in front of him, holstering my gun and narrowing my eyes.
Sweat beads along his hairline. His chest is rising and falling rapidly, eyes locked on my face, so he doesn’t notice when I rear back my hand and punch him as hard as I can in the stomach.
The guttural groan that leaves him delights me.
I catch him before he can collapse onto the ground.
Gripping the top of his jacket, I throw him down onto a dining room chair I strategically placed. He continues to groan and hold his stomach. Grabbing the duct tape I left nearby, I quickly secure him to the chair.
Once that’s complete, I step back and withdraw my gun. Jenson’s eyes widen. I tap his chin with the barrel and laugh when he lets out a pathetic whimper.
“Tell me, Jenson, did you get off on almost getting Maggie killed? Every time you released information to someone who wanted to hurt her, did it make you feel alive knowing she might not be because of your actions?”
He squirms against the duct tape. “It wasn’t like that.”
“Oh yeah? Tell me what it was like.”
Another hard swallow. “It wasn’t personal. It was just money. They promised me a lot of money.”
I shake my head in disgust. “You say that as if it makes it better.”
“I-I’m sorry. Look, please—”
Getting tired of listening to him, I flip my gun so I’m holding the barrel. I swing it down, his nose giving a satisfying crack. Blood pours down his face.
Having had my fun, I put my gun away and pick the duct tape back up, ripping off another piece. I slap it onto his mouth to muffle his wails.
“Have a nice life, you disgusting excuse for a human. I hope everyone in prison with you finds out you were a fed.”
I smirk as his yells behind the tape increase, and he jumps in the chair, almost knocking it over.
“Careful, you probably don’t want to fall over because I’m not sure how long it’ll take to find you. Might be even more uncomfortable if you are lying on your side for an extended amount of time.”
His chest heaves, but he stops struggling.
“Have a nice life, Jenson. Hope it’s a short one.”
I turn and walk casually out of his house and to my borrowed, untraceable vehicle, thanks to one shady skip tracer hidden nearby. Once I’m safely inside, I retrieve my phone and connect the call I’ve been looking forward to making.
“Murray, what can I do for you?”
“I have a present for you, Franklin.”
Silence.
I rattle off the address.
“And what am I going to find at this address?”
I glance back at the house in question. “Like I said, a present. One you’ve been looking for but were unable to find.”
“Is this present alive?”
“At the moment, yes.”
“Do I want to know how you found him before multiple federal agencies?”
“Just consider me a freelancer. An upstanding citizen doing a public service. Or better yet, an anonymous source. Whatever makes you feel better.”
He barks out a laugh. “Fucking hell. This is going to be a bitch to explain.”
“Harder to explain than this dick being on the run for months after working with criminals to get one of your witnesses killed?”
“Point taken, you dick.” His response pulls another smile from me. “The US government thanks you for your service.”
“Trust me, my pleasure.” I start the engine. “Oh, one more thing. The broken nose was self-inflicted.”
I disconnect the call as his laughter comes through the speaker. Pulling out onto the road, I head back to the rest of my life.