Operation 29 Vows and Victory
God
Dusk had settled over Bull and Fox’s property in layers of peach, rose, and violet. The last golden rays of sun spilled across the pastures, turning the white wedding tent into something almost dreamlike.
Lights had been strung from post to post, from barn to fence line, from the massive oak near the ceremonial arch all the way across the lawn.
Lanterns hung from tree branches. Candles flickered in hurricane glasses lining the walkways. The grass had been cut in such a pristine crisscross pattern it looked artificial, and flowers spilled from barrels and buckets in damn near every color.
Fox hadn’t lied.
Their ranch knew how to host a wedding.
Across the lawn, the reception tent stood open on all sides, its white fabric glowing under the ropes of lights.
Inside, round tables had been dressed in cream linen and set with gold-rimmed plates and glasses.
A dance floor stood in the center, polished smooth and waiting for the kind of bad decisions only liquor and good music could produce.
A few of Bull’s hands in crisp white shirts bearing the ranch’s logo led guests—who wanted a tour— around the property on horseback.
It was mostly women who’d volunteered. They’d come dressed for a wedding and somehow decided side-saddle flirting with cowboys was the perfect prewedding activity.
Vickie, God’s former secretary, was currently on her fourth ride with her fourth cowboy.
Day leaned into God, watching her disappear down the gravel path again. “She’s gonna marry one of them before the cake’s cut.”
“Last thing I wanna do is attend another wedding.” God took a long swig of his beer and set the bottle down, then tugged at his necktie.
He didn’t know why he was so anxious…or nervous…or was he excited? Hell, he didn’t know.
They were all together for the first time since they’d been shut down and he didn’t know what he was going to say to his guys about leaving the East Coast for good.
Each of them had their own vision for their own futures, and whether God liked their decision or not, he’d had no say in it.
Tonight, the entire team were dressed like waiters at a Beverly Hills restaurant. God was shedding his jacket and tie the second the reverend said, ‘I now pronounce you married.’
Fox stood near the bar in the same tux as him.
Bull was beside him, huge in a dark dress shirt and new tan cowboy hat. He had one arm braced on the bar as a woman in a flowy, yellow summer dress read to them from the paper attached to her clipboard.
Most of God’s team stood a few feet from the bar.
Furi of course stood out in his groomsman tux, his long champagne-gold hair braided back in an elaborate style by Bull’s housekeeper.
“Sasha,” Day called, lifting his glass. “Cheers.”
Ro turned slowly and faced him. “Call me that again.”
“Awww, don’t be like that, Sasha,” Michael sing-songed.
“I hate all of you.”
Johnson slid an arm around Ro’s waist and kissed the side of his head. “I love your name.”
God’s good friend Judge—Michael’s life partner—was having a conversation with Duke and Quick nearby, all three of them dressed nicer than God had ever seen them.
They’d brought a few of their bounty hunters too, men God and his team had crossed paths with over the years on streets.
Quick lifted his glass toward God. “Congratulations on your new careers. I’ve heard of West Security. They’re the real deal.”
God accepted the toast, tipping his beer bottle against Quick and Duke’s raised tumblers.
Their old captain had come too, along with a handful of officers from the precinct and a few of Hart’s SWAT team.
Mason was there with one arm around Jesse’s shoulders, the other holding his glass of whisky while they stood in line with the people waiting on their turn to ride one of the horses.
Day and the guys were talking about getting together for the upcoming holiday, something here on the ranch before the year ended, when a ripple of commotion started near the entrance.
At first, God thought it was the carriage for Curtis.
He peered through the cluster of guests and saw the stretch SUV limo— glossy black, huge, and expensive—rolling up the long drive.
It stopped near the edge of the lawn, and the driver climbed out to open the rear door.
Law stepped out first in his black suit, and Wes followed behind him, wearing denim and a black suit jacket over a white collared Polo shirt.
Behind them, Cassidy Morrison unfolded from the vehicle in a dark suit with that guarded, steady presence before he turned back toward the open door and offered his hand.
Xander Vale climbed out into the glow of the ranch’s overhead lights.
God heard before he saw it—the sharp inhales. The frantic whispers.
A few people moved, then caught themselves, as if trying not to swarm him, or to not act like one of the most famous men in the world hadn’t just arrived at a family wedding in rural north-central Georgia.
Xander wore a fitted cream suit with a faint shimmer in the fabric, not flashy, just enough for the sunset to kiss it every time he moved. His shirt was pale gold silk and open at the throat. His brown, blond-streaked hair was brushed back in glossy waves and tucked behind his ears.
He seemed strong. Healthy. Bright-eyed.
In love.
Cassidy stood at his side like a wall with one hand resting against the small of Xander’s back.
Rid made a sound that might’ve been a gasp, a curse, or the beginning of a cardiac episode.
He yanked on Dale’s jacket lapel, eyes huge as he stared at Xander. “Dale. Dale. Dale.”
Dale caught his wrist. “What?”
Rid pointed.
Dale glared.
His beer bottle hit the table hard enough to make the glasses jump. He turned on Fox with murder in his face. “Are you fucking serious right now?”
Fox shrugged and turned his beer up.
Dale stared. “What in the hell is Xander Vale doing here?”
Fox lowered his beer. “Technically, Curtis invited him.”
“I need oxygen,” Rid said.
Xander moved through the crowd with Wes, Law, and Cassidy. He didn’t stop and speak with any of the guests. Instead, he came straight to Fox. “Thank you for inviting us,” he said, offering his hand. “This is incredible. Your property is beautiful.”
Fox shook his hand. “Glad you made it.”
“You look amazing,” Xander said, shaking Genesis’s hand too. “Congratulations.”
“Curtis is gonna be thrilled. Thank you so much for coming.”
“Wouldn’t’ve missed it.” Xander smiled.
Wes and Law were introduced by God and Day.
Wes took in the ranch with obvious appreciation. “This place is stunning.”
Bull tipped his beer. “Appreciate that.”
Law shook everyone’s hand before he turned his attention back to Fox. “Thanks for answering the email about the fireworks.”
Fox nodded. “No problem.”
“I’m sure you guys can put on a helluva show, but fireworks would make my animals stark mad,” Bull said.
“Of course,” Law agreed. “Would’ve been a great gift, but I think he’ll like the gift card we sent to his account too.”
Genesis groaned. “Oh boy, I’ve already had to put our delivery guy on our Christmas card list with how many packages Curtis gets a week.”
The guys laughed.
Xander turned slowly, taking in the tent, the lights, the pastures, the horses, the families, the soft music playing from the mounted speakers. “This looks like something out of a movie.”
Fox smiled. “Around here, we call that Sunday through Sunday.”
Dale muttered, “Around here, we call that too many celebrities on my grass.”
Fox’s grin sharpened.
God saw it coming before Dale did.
“Don’t even think about it,” Dale warned.
Fox put a hand at Xander’s shoulder. “Xander, there’s someone I want you to meet.”
Dale narrowed his eyes.
“Rid,” Fox called.
Rid went stiff.
Dale fumed as though he might tackle Fox to the ground.
Fox brought Xander right up to Rid. “Xander Vale, this is Ridby Shanahan. He’s our stables manager and an invaluable asset to this ranch. He’s responsible for the complete health and welfare of every horse out here.”
Xander gave Rid that incredible, humble smile of his they’d all seen in his movies, TV appearances, Saturday Night Live, or on the red carpet.
“Wow, really. They’re gorgeous.” Xander extended his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Rid opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Dale turned his head skyward.
“Are you gonna let his hand fall off, Rid?” Bull chuckled in that deep baritone.
Rid blinked. Then jerked his hand out and clasped Xander’s.
“This is my partner, Cassidy Morrison,” Xander smiled up at his man, proudly.
Cassidy didn’t even bother holding his hand out since Rid hadn’t even glanced in his direction.
“Are you gonna introduce me?” Dale asked Rid.
God flicked his head at Dale. “Xander, that’s Rid’s boyfriend, I think…well, it depends on what better-looking guy stops by the ranch.”
They all stood watching the entertaining exchange.
And God was loving the hell outta how annoyed Dale got.
“Are you gonna say some words?” Bull asked Rid.
Rid swallowed hard. “I like your work, I mean movies.”
Xander’s smile widened. “That’s very kind. Thank you. I like your work too.”
Rid pointed toward the barn, dazed. “I have horses.”
Day choked on his drink.
“I see.”
“I can show you one. Not now. Unless now is…”
Dale gripped the back of Rid’s neck and yanked him against his side. “Will you pull yourself together?”
Rid nodded quickly.
God couldn’t wait to see who else showed up. Apparently, Curtis wanted every person he’d ever encountered to be part of this day, and the ranch was more than big enough to accommodate his ridiculousness.
God was still watching Rid fawn over Xander when he heard a strange, thrumming pulse overhead across the far edge of the property.
“Is that thunder?” Gen panicked.
“That’s definitely not thunder,” Bull said.
More people noticed the sound, stopping in mid-conversation.
It was another few seconds when a sleek, black luxury helicopter came into view above the east pasture. It was almost silent as it descended far enough away not to blow grass, dust, and table arrangements all over the field.
Dale planted both hands on his hips. “And who’s that? The prime minister of France?”
Fox laughed. “Maybe.”