Chapter 26 #3
“We’re just really glad you’re all right,” Linda, as she often had to do, translated for Martha.
“Well, it’s all hands on deck tomorrow, so I’m glad we didn’t lose a pair of those hands,” Zach remarked.
“That is what you’re glad about?” Martha asked.
Zach indicated me. “She just said she’s fine and enjoyed a hotdog on the way home.”
“I need something a lot stronger than wine,” Martha decreed.
“Shooters!” Joey cried.
“I can’t get drunk before my wedding. I don’t want bags under my eyes for the pictures,” Alexis put in.
“One shot won’t get you drunk,” Jessie told her.
“Okay, one shot,” Alexis agreed.
“Shit, I don’t have my bar here anymore,” Jessie muttered (she’d moved in with Eric not long ago, paving the way for Alice to move to the Oasis).
“You can use ours. Come on,” Bill offered.
They took off.
“Has it occurred to anybody that maybe Luna and Knox want to chill after her kidnapping?” Willow asked.
Everyone looked at everyone else, flummoxed by this question.
I burst out laughing again.
“Just a shot,” Harlow put in. “Then we all have to rest for the big day.”
“Just a shot,” Willow agreed.
I looked at Raye when I realized she hadn’t let go of my hand.
I’m okay, I mouthed.
She gave me a squeeze, a long look and let go.
I drew in a deep breath, released it and found my guy.
He was chatting with Jacob.
It was over.
We were home.
There was a wedding tomorrow.
And dinner with Mom and Dad the next day.
All was right in the world of the Angels.
And my guy had closure.
So no.
I wasn’t okay.
I was just right.
* * *
Knox wasn’t feeling that one shooter was enough, I knew, when we got to my apartment and he didn’t go for a beer.
He went to the cupboard where I had my liquor and pulled out my Woodford Reserve bourbon.
I didn’t drink it, but at Oasis Square, you needed to be prepared for anything.
He lifted the bottle my way.
I shook my head, picked up my dog and sat in one of my barstools.
We had to get into this. I wasn’t sure now was the time, but I wanted the door open so whenever that time was, he knew he could walk through it.
“She lied,” I said quietly.
He poured two fingers and put the bottle back.
He then took his glass to the fridge.
“We don’t have to talk about it now,” I told him.
He put two pieces of ice in the glass, came to stand opposite me and swirled the glass, watching the amber liquid move.
He took a sip, not a gulp, which I thought was a good sign.
He set the glass on the counter, his fingers still around it.
“Dad said she played the long game, but he had no idea. She used to bitch to me and Gypsy about him. The life we lived. I’m eight, nine, Gypsy’s six or seven, and she’s laying all her marital problems on us.”
I wasn’t sure who was the bigger motherfucker. His mom or his dad.
“Turning you against him,” I said.
He nodded, took another sip of bourbon and, “She didn’t have to put in that work. He did that himself.”
“And when they fought?” I asked.
“She threw it in his face, probably to throw him off track,” he deduced.
“This is a ton to deal with, baby,” I remarked, remembering the pain I saw in his eyes while we were in that warehouse.
“In a twisted way, I can see she started a long time ago when she sent Rocco in, so it wasn’t like she forgot us. And she was trying to lay the trail for me when she hit me up in Denver. I guess that’s something. It’s just something fucked up. And it’s obvious Gypsy’s been with her for years.”
“But your sis didn’t tell you.”
“No.” He took another sip. “She didn’t tell me.”
And now I didn’t know if his sister was the biggest motherfucker of them all.
His attention laser focused on me and he said, “Saw the footage of them grabbing you. You tryin’ to make this easier on me by not sharing they hurt you?”
“It was uncomfortable.” I dropped Jacques to the floor and put my hands to the bar so he could see the red marks still marring my wrists. “And those don’t feel good.”
He set his glass aside, leaned into his forearms on the bar and wrapped his long fingers around my wrists, his thumbs stroking.
“Now they feel better,” I whispered.
He lifted my hands, one after the other, to his mouth so he could kiss the insides of my wrists.
“And I’m all good now,” I said.
He smiled at me, still stroking my skin.
It was a small smile, his eyes were again wounded, he was showing me that, and I had a newfound appreciation for the honesty we were learning to share.
But I sensed we were done talking about his family.
At least for now.
“Can you hang there a sec?” I asked.
“Sure,” he answered, some of the ache in his eyes shifting to curiosity.
I pulled free from his gentle hold, and I (and Jacques) went to my closet.
I dug deep into where I’d hidden it. And at the time, I’d hidden it from myself.
Once I had it, I walked back to my side of the bar.
I felt the air close in around me, but it wasn’t hellfire this time.
It was warm and cozy and safe and wonderful.
I set the Christmas wrapped box on the bar between us.
“Open it.”
His eyes lifted from the box to me, and he whispered, “Baby.”
“Open it, Knox.”
He drew in breath.
Then he opened it.
It was a fancy, ridiculously expensive stainless steel, ergonomically weighted BBQ tool set in a roll bag with leather straps.
“For when you’re barbequing for our grandkids, and before,” I said.
He looked from the gift to me. “You totally never let me go.”
“I totally didn’t and I totally never will.”
We stood there, staring at each other over the bar and the BBQ tools.
We did this so long, we freaked Jacques, and he gave a gentle, questioning woof.
“C’mere, boy,” Knox called.
Jacques trotted to him.
Knox bent and picked him up.
“Easy for me to carry when I gotta grill down in the courtyard,” he said.
“That was what I was thinking.”
A languid, heavy beat passed then he said softly, “Never let me go.”
“Never.”
Jacques licking Knox’s jaw ended that staring situation.
It was then I realized the wine and the shooter didn’t do it for me either.
“Can you make me a martini, honey?” I asked.
“Absolutely,” he answered.
He handed Jacques across the bar to me, and he got on my martini.
Jacques and I went to the couch so I could grab the remote and find a game.
* * *
I had my head in my man’s lap, my dog on my belly, my legs thrown over the side of the couch. Knox was watching some game on TV, I was zoning out.
That was when the knock came at the door.
I knew it was coming.
I knew Knox did too when he looked down at me.
I caught his gaze then sat up.
He got up and went to the door as I straightened me and Jacques on the couch.
He opened the door and in came Lee, Mace, Hector, Cap and Roam.
Okay, this was official.
They were all OGs.
Even Cap and Roam.
“Do you want me to…?” I offered, getting ready to stand.
“No, Luna, you’re good,” Lee said.
“Anyone want a drink?” I asked.
“We won’t be long.”
I got up anyway, dropped my dog on the couch and went to Knox (Jacques came too).
It was a good call.
“Your mom got word to Alexeyev,” Lee said.
I grabbed his hand in both of mine.
“Yeah?” Knox asked.
“It’s true. She’s with Vincente Becerra of the Becerra cartel and has been since she left your family.”
I saw Knox’s chest rise with his breath, but he said nothing.
Lee’s gaze came to me for a flash before it went back to Knox.
“She said she knew she could take her other children and retreat after she met Luna.”
“What?” I asked.
“Come again?” Knox asked.
“You said something to her,” Lee said to me. “And she told Alexeyev she knew she could let Knox go because someone was looking after him.”
Oh.
Well then.
“What did you say?” Knox asked me.
I pulled my shoulders forward.
Not letting my hands go, he turned to me. “What did you say?”
“Maybe it was the speech I gave about having your back and being on your side in everything. Other than that, all I said was that I wasn’t going to play go-between for you and maybe I got in her face a little about her leaving you. But that’s all. I think.”
Knox just stared at me.
“Whatever it was,” Lee broke into this, “it worked. She says if you ever want to heal the breach, use the Russians. But she isn’t expecting that and she’s content to let you live your life without their interference.”
“That’s big of her,” Knox bit out.
“It’s done, honey,” I reminded him.
His fingers around mine squeezed.
“It is done,” Lee stated in a way we both looked right at him.
“My team is my team. But we take such care with our hires because they become family. You’re family Knox.
Your name might not be Nightingale. Or Mason.
Stark. Crowe. Chavez. Tucker. Or Jackson.
But you are us. And we are you. This is a forever thing, brother.
You’re in and you’re never gonna get out.
That isn’t a threat. You’re gonna live your life how you see fit.
But like Luna, we have your back and we’ll take your side in everything.
You’ll always be a part of us no matter where you are. And that’s it.”
I was holding my breath through this speech.
I kept holding it when it was done, and that was that.
Because, with no hugs or handshakes or other common rituals that would normally bookend a statement like that, they marched out.
Cap was last, and it was only him who sent Knox a lingering look.
Then the door shut behind him.
And I knew why it was the OGs.
Because that statement had to be made by the Hot Bunch so Knox wouldn’t miss it.
And when I looked up at him, I saw he didn’t miss it.
So I turned into him, pressed close and rounded him with my arms.
“Closure,” I whispered.
He was still staring at the door, but he looked down at me.
“Closure,” he whispered back.
Jacques barked.
Knox smiled.
And that was that.