Epilogue
Unsurprisingly, Gill Forbes appeared thoroughly disgruntled when they walked into his office bright and early—at ten o’clock—the following Monday morning.
Beckett still looked like something the cat dragged in, chewed up, and spit out, but at least Hayes looked sharp and professional in his Armani suit.
So, at least one of them was presentable.
“Weird way to say I love you, but I know your generation isn’t really good at saying gooey stuff like that so—” Beckett winked at him, wincing as it pulled at his split eyebrow.
Gill ignored him, picking up the iPad on his desk and peering at the screen over the top of his glasses.
“Rosario family patriarch arrested for human trafficking—” He read directly from the headlines.
He swiped at the screen with his index finger to pull up another news story.
“Fall of an empire—human trafficking scandal ruins the Rosario name.” He swiped again.
“Mario Rosario, head of a human trafficking ring—what else was he hiding?”
Shaking his head, he placed the iPad back on his desk. “How’s your new brother-in-law faring?” he asked Beckett.
Beckett shrugged. He knew very little about the current situation with Matthew. Franklin had sent him a quick text after he got home, stating simply that they were dealing with the fallout one day at a time. Otherwise, it had been radio silence as of late.
“Matthew says there’s no such thing as bad press—” Beckett said.
“That and he cut a deal with the FBI to leak his contributions to building their case once the trial started,” Hayes said.
Beckett turned to him, one eyebrow hitched in surprise.
“What? Why!” This was news to him.
“He wanted to put his siblings’ spin on the story. They had nothing to do with their uncle’s business. They were as surprised as the rest of the world to hear about it, and once they did—they worked closely with the authorities to put Mario behind bars.”
Hayes wasn’t one to make shit up. Therefore, he’d heard it from somewhere—dammit—had Hayes and Matthew been talking behind his back? Had these two started a group chat named “Partners of the Nut House Family” in secret?
“Of course,” Gill said, leaning back in his seat, once again looking unimpressed and annoyed.
“Where’d you hear that?” Beckett asked, squinting suspiciously at his partner.
“Matthew texted me and Adeline last night.”
“Adeline?” Beckett said. He’d missed her departure while he’d been—unresponsive. He should probably call her to thank her. After all, she’d been instrumental in building the case from the ground up to make sure Mario Rosario would be tried and convicted.
“She wanted an update. He’d promised to give her one,” Hayes explained. He turned back to Gill.
“She was quite helpful. Thank you again for sending her our way,” Hayes told their boss.
“Right, yes, what he said,” Beckett agreed, pointing to Hayes.
Gill took a deep breath and pinched the top of his nose in exasperation.
“How long until you’re cleared for action?” he asked, voice gruff.
“I’m good to go,” Beckett assured him.
“Two weeks of medical leave remaining, at the minimum,” Hayes interjected, talking loudly to drown out that bald-faced lie.
Beckett growled. The little backstabber.
Gill nodded and sighed. “Good. In the meantime, you’ll have plenty of time to go over your incident report from the bank robbery case again—it’s going to trial soon, and you might need to testify.”
Beckett shrugged and sighed with resignation.
“There are a few more things I might need from you—mostly paperwork. Maybe I’ll need you for a symposium as well—I have a local college looking for ways to promote different federal agencies in connection with the degree programs they offer.”
“And you want us to go?” Beckett asked, bewildered. “I’m a terrible influence on the youth,” Beckett said, shaking his head.
“Maybe—but I’m hoping they’ll be a good influence on you,” Gill said in a jovial tone.
“Har, har—look who finally grew a funny bone,” Beckett said, which he knew was not how he should ever talk to his boss, but, as in most situations, he didn’t let that stop him.
Hayes kicked him, right in the middle of the shin, too—goddammit—that fucking hurt like hell.
He howled silently and rubbed at the spot, shooting an indignant, offended look at his partner.
Gill looked no more offended or annoyed than usual by Beckett’s irreverent remark. So, no harm done.
“Alright, get out before I reconsider my current agenda for you two miscreants,” Gill said and gestured towards the door.
Beckett stood up surprisingly quickly, and even managed not to wince as pain radiated from his cracked ribs and knife wounds. He was halfway out the door, right on Hayes’ heels, when Gill called out to him.
“Thérault.”
Beckett spun around, wondering why he was being called back. It was usually Hayes who Gill would try to talk sense into—having given up on him a loooonnnng time ago.
“You boys alright? I heard about the op—about—” Gill shifted uncomfortably and waved a hand in front of his face indicating blindness.
Ah. His dissociated episode.
Urgency and ego dictated that he should spit out a typical dismissive response. Pretend it was nothing at all. That he was perfectly fine and ready to rumble, but—he swallowed the words back down.
“We’re—oddly fine,” he assured their boss in a polite and reserved manner that Gill had never witnessed.
Gill scrutinized him for a moment, trying to spot a lie, but whatever he read in Beckett’s eyes seemed to satisfy him.
“Good. Now, get out of my office. I have a shit ton of paperwork to get through if I want to get home to my kids.”
“Tell them Uncle Beckett says hi!” he requested with a silly, enthusiastic wave, as he backed out of the office.
“I won’t,” Gill assured him with an amused snort.
Of course, Beckett didn’t believe him, laughing and pointing finger guns before making his great escape.
Hayes was on the phone as Beckett hopped into the driver’s seat of his Jeep. His partner was humming quietly in agreement, but his jaw was firmly locked, the corner feathering with tension every now and again.
“And why is it any of my concern?” he asked, his tone surprisingly venomous.
Beckett didn’t want to interrupt but he hiked up an eyebrow at him.
“Your father wanted nothing to—” he was cut off and Beckett watched him clench his jaw tightly in order not to bite out a reply. It was several more minutes before he spoke again, and Beckett couldn’t have been more shocked by his partner’s sudden burst of temper.
“Then let it fucking burn!” Hayes snarled, before pressing end and shoving the phone into the cupholder in the center console.
And God, if that wasn’t Beckett’s influence on Hayes’ usual stoicism peeking through.
“Everything alright?” he asked, though it was obvious nothing was.
Hayes peered sideways at him, and though at first there was clear annoyance in his gaze, like the last thing he wanted was to rehash the conversation, he seemed to settle as he took in Beckett’s hesitant smile.
“My uncle died.”
“Thought your uncle already died,” Beckett said, confused.
“No, this time it was the other one. My father’s brother. The one who refused to take me in when my parents died,” he said, jaw clenched, clearly still angry about being rejected by that side of the family at such a young age.
“Good fucking riddance,” Beckett said, feeling no guilt whatsoever.
Hayes nodded slowly, but then shook his head.
“Except the fucker forgot to mention to his kids that they’d inherit nothing after his death. Not the house, not the family business, none of it.”
While that was certainly quite inconsiderate of the old man, Beckett wasn’t sure why it was putting Hayes in such a funk.
“Okayyyy—” Beckett waited him out, convinced there was a lot more to this story that he wasn’t getting. “He just hated everyone?” He proposed.
“No, because it was never his to begin with. It was mine. All of his inheritance is actually mine. He was supposed to keep it until I turned eighteen, but then, since he conveniently forgot to mention it, and I never showed any interest, he just kept the rights. Now that he’s dead though—”
“Everything reverts back to you,” Beckett realised.
Hayes nodded absentmindedly as he gazed out the windshield of the car.
“Who was on the phone?”
“My cousin. Since the reading of the will, no one there has any legal rights to the company, so they’ve had to put everything on hold.”
“What did he want?” Beckett asked, because he was slowly catching on to the reason for Hayes’ tension—fear.
“He wants me to go back. To go back home to the house where my parents were murdered and get my parents’ business back up and running.”
When he turned to look at Beckett, it was an entirely different man looking back at him. Not the confident SEAL, nor the stoic federal agent, but rather a young and vulnerable man. With wide startled eyes that had tears pooling in the corners, and shaky hands.
Beckett felt a surge of protective instincts take control. He reached for him. Caught both Hayes’ hands in his and squeezed them firmly until the tremors subsided.
“Oi, a little adventure in the British countryside sounds like a riot, dunnit?” He used his best British accent.
It was butchered, and terrible, but it pulled a smile from his soulmate that ebbed the concern blooming in Beckett’s chest. Hayes leaned forward and wrapped Beckett in a tight hug.
It was rather unusual for him to do so, so Beckett made sure to squeeze him warmly in return.
“We should have stuck to your plan,” Hayes said, as he rested his head on Beckett’s shoulder.
“Which one of my amazingly brilliant plans are you talking about?” he asked, hoping to keep things light and playful.
“Never leaving the house again. It’s nothing but hellfire and chaos out there,” he said, recalling Beckett words of advice.
Beck chuckled and pressed a kiss beneath Hayes’ ear.
“Bah—what’s life without a little chaos, Nancy?”