Epilogue - Maddie
Five Years Later
"Kayla Marie Thompson, if you put that marker anywhere near your brother's face again, we're going to have words." I don't even look up from my sketching as my three-year-old daughter freezes mid-motion, the purple Sharpie hovering dangerously close to her sleeping brother's cheek.
"But Mommy," she protests, all wide-eyed innocence, "Daddy says art is 'bout spression."
"Expression," I correct, finally looking up to fix her with my best mom-stare. "And your father meant on paper, not on Sam."
Kayla sighs, a perfect miniature of her father when he's denied something, and stomps back to her coloring books. Samuel, blissfully oblivious at ten months old, continues his nap on the play mat, chubby fist curled around the stuffed motorcycle Dice insists on calling his "first bike."
I return to my sketch, working on a custom design for tomorrow's client at Brooks Ink, my tattoo shop in downtown Pine Haven.
Five years ago, I never would have imagined this life—a business, a home, a family.
Back then, I lived out of a suitcase, trust was a luxury I couldn't afford, and the only constant in my life was the adrenaline rush of the next score.
Now, my biggest rush comes from watching Kayla master a new word or Sam take an unsteady step. Well, that and the way Dice still looks at me like I'm the greatest heist he ever pulled off.
The rumble of motorcycles outside announces their arrival. Kayla's head pops up, her previous artistic frustration forgotten.
"Daddy and Uncle James!" she squeals, racing for the door.
I scoop up Sam, who's now awake and babbling excitedly at the familiar sound.
Through the window, I watch as Dice and James pull into our driveway, their matching Outlaws cuts gleaming with the club's patches in the afternoon sun.
The brothers park their bikes side by side, a habit they've maintained since James patched in three years ago.
Kayla bursts through the front door before they can even dismount, launching herself at Dice, who catches her mid-air with ease.
"There's my little outlaw," he grins, spinning her around until she shrieks with laughter.
James follows behind, that crooked smile that runs in the Thompson genes firmly in place. "Where's my favorite nephew?" he calls, spotting us in the doorway.
"Still your only nephew," I remind him as he takes Sam from my arms, bouncing him gently.
Dice approaches with Kayla perched on his shoulders, leaning down to give me a kiss that still makes my heart skip after all these years. "Missed you," he murmurs against my lips.
"You were gone four hours," I laugh.
"Four hours too long." His eyes, still full of that mischievous light, scan my face with obvious appreciation. "Got something for you."
"If it's another stray dog, the answer is still no," I warn him. Our backyard already houses two rescue pit bulls, courtesy of Dice's inability to say no to animals in need—a trait our daughter has unfortunately inherited.
"Better." He sets Kayla down and pulls an envelope from inside his cut, presenting it with a flourish. "For you, Mrs. Thompson."
I take the envelope, suspicious of his overly innocent expression. Inside are four plane tickets and hotel reservations for...
"Belgium?" I look up at him in surprise. "You're taking us to Belgium?"
"Chocolate capital of the world," he grins. "For our third anniversary. Two weeks, all of us together. The club's given me the time off."
"But the shop—" I start to protest.
"Already handled," James interrupts, bouncing Sam on his hip. "Spoke to your assistant manager. She's got it covered."
I stare at the tickets, emotion welling up unexpectedly.
It's not just the trip. It's what it represents.
Five years ago, I couldn't imagine staying in one place long enough to put down roots, let alone trusting someone enough to build a life with them.
Now I have a husband who knows me well enough to plan my dream vacation, a brother-in-law who's become true family, and children who anchor me to this place in ways I never thought possible.
"You okay?" Dice asks, suddenly concerned by my silence.
"Perfect," I manage, blinking back tears. "Just perfect."
He wraps an arm around me, pulling me close. "Thought you'd like it. First time I asked you about dream destinations, you said Belgium for the chocolate. Figured it was time to make that happen for all of us."
I remember that conversation. One of many late-night talks during those first chaotic weeks after meeting, when we were just beginning to explore what we might become to each other.
We'd stayed up discussing everything and nothing, getting to know each other while the world around us seemed determined to pull us apart.
"Earth to Maddie," Dice waves a hand in front of my face, pulling me from my memories.
"Sorry," I smile. "Just thinking about how far we've come."
"From stealing watches and fighting off kidnappers?" he teases. "Yeah, we've definitely upgraded."
"I don't know," I counter, nodding toward Kayla, who's now attempting to convince her uncle to let her sit on his bike. "That little girl is more dangerous than any criminal I ever faced."
Dice laughs. "Gets that from her mother."
"The stubbornness is all you, Thompson." I poke his chest. "Along with the impulsivity."
"You love it." His voice drops lower, just for me. "Always have."
And he's right. I fell for his recklessness, his willingness to leap without looking. It terrified me at first—that wild, unrestrained approach to life. But I've learned that sometimes the biggest risks yield the greatest rewards.
Like the risk I took staying in Pine Haven instead of running when things got complicated.
The risk of opening my tattoo shop with money I'd saved from less legitimate enterprises.
The risk of saying yes when Dice proposed in the most Dice way possible, in the middle of a high-speed ride through the mountain roads, pulling over at a scenic overlook and producing a ring from his cut.
"When do we leave?" I ask, looking at the tickets again.
"Next week." He grins. "Think the kids are ready for their first international adventure?"
"With us as parents? They were born ready for adventure," I reply, already imagining Kayla's face when she tastes her first Belgian chocolate, or Sam's eyes widening at the medieval architecture of Brussels.
James laughs, handing Sam back to me. "Just make sure you bring them back with all their limbs intact. No impromptu heists or motorcycle chases, you two."
"We're retired," I assure him with mock seriousness.
"Mostly retired," Dice corrects with a wink that makes James shake his head.
"I'm heading out," James says. "Meeting with Reaper about that charity ride next month."
After he leaves, Kayla tugs at Dice's jeans. "Daddy, where's Bel-yum?"
"Belgium," he corrects, scooping her up. "It's far away, across the ocean. We're going to ride in a big airplane to get there."
Her eyes widen. "Like Grandpa Reaper's plane?"
I chuckle. She’s talking about the spoon plane he makes when he’s feeding her.
"Even bigger," I tell her. "And they'll serve you juice and cookies."
This information clearly elevates the trip to the status of greatest adventure ever in her three-year-old mind. "Sam too?"
"Sam too," Dice confirms. "The whole family."
"The whole family," she repeats, satisfied, before wiggling to be let down so she can return to her coloring, presumably to document this exciting development.
Later that night, after the kids are asleep, Dice and I sit on the porch swing, my legs draped across his lap as we share a beer.
"Happy?" he asks suddenly, his fingers tracing idle patterns on my ankle.
"Fishing for compliments?" I tease.
"Maybe." He shrugs. "Just like to check in sometimes. Make sure this is still what you want."
It's a vulnerability he rarely shows. This lingering fear that I might wake up one day and miss my old life of constant movement, of freedom without responsibility. That the woman who once stole priceless watches and outsmarted security systems might find small-town motherhood too confining.
"This is exactly what I want," I tell him, meaning it completely. "You, the kids, all of it."
His smile is slow and satisfied. "Good. Because you're stuck with me, Brooks. Till death do us part and all that shit."
"Such a romantic," I roll my eyes, but lean in to kiss him anyway.
Against my lips, he murmurs, "Belgium's pretty romantic."
"With a three-year-old and a baby?" I laugh. "Not exactly the secluded getaway."
"We'll have our moments," he promises. "Got us a suite with a separate bedroom for the kids. And James packed us a surprise bag with some... supplies."
"Dare I ask what kind of supplies?" Though I have a pretty good idea, knowing both Thompson brothers' penchant for mischief.
"Let's just say he made sure we have everything we need for those moments when the kids are asleep." His hand slides up my leg suggestively. "And soundproof walls."
"Always thinking ahead," I murmur appreciatively. "But are we sure we're ready to travel internationally with two small children? That's a long flight."
"We've faced down armed kidnappers and Irish crime lords," he reminds me. "I think we can handle a transatlantic flight with the mini-monsters."
As we sit there in the gathering darkness, his arm around me and the sound of crickets filling the night, I think about the woman I was five years ago.
Always in control, always planning three steps ahead, never trusting anyone but myself.
That woman would hardly recognize me now, and yet she's still here, underneath it all.
Still calculating, still protective, still ready to fight for what matters.
The difference is what matters has changed.
It's no longer just survival, no longer the thrill of the next score.
Now it's this man beside me, our children sleeping inside, the life we've built together.
A life I never knew I wanted until Dice Thompson crashed into mine with all the subtlety of a wrecking ball.
"You know," I say thoughtfully, "Sam's passport photo might be the cutest thing I've ever seen."
"Nah," Dice disagrees. "Kayla trying to explain to the passport agent why she needed to bring her unicorn stuffed animal for the photo was cuter."
We laugh together, remembering how seriously our daughter had argued her case, as if her stuffed companion was an essential part of her identity.
"She's going to be trouble when she's older," I predict.
"Going to be?" Dice raises an eyebrow. "She already is. Just like her mother."
"And her father," I add. "Poor Sam doesn't stand a chance with our genes."
"He'll be fine," Dice says confidently. "He's got us. And James. And the whole club looking out for him."
He's right, of course. Our children will grow up surrounded by love and protection, with an extended family that may be unconventional but is fiercely loyal. They'll never know the loneliness I experienced as a child, or the abandonment Dice and James suffered.
Some gambles pay off bigger than others. This one, taking a chance on Dice Thompson, on staying put, on building a family, has been the jackpot.
And as we head to Belgium next week, carrying our past adventures with us but focused firmly on creating new ones with our children, I know that the best heist of my life wasn't anything I ever stole.
It was the heart of the impulsive, reckless prospect who refused to let me face danger alone, who showed me that sometimes the greatest freedom comes from putting down roots in exactly the right place.