Epilogue
Malachi
Two months later…
It’s been over sixty days since the white jet cleared the runway at Hangar seven.
Sixty-three days, to be exact.
I know because I stopped sleeping properly after the first week.
The rain hits the windshield of the parked SUV in heavy, uneven drops. I sit in the passenger seat, staring through the dark, water-spotted glass at the brightly lit entrance of a high-end restaurant across the street.
New Jersey looks nothing like New Orleans.
There is no humidity hanging in the air, no warm glow coming off the streets, no familiar smell of the river mixing with expensive perfume and gasoline. Everything here feels colder somehow.
Which is oddly appropriate for what we’re doing.
I am snapped out of my thoughts by the sudden buzz my phone makes in my jacket. When I take it out, I see Jade’s message on the screen.
Did you eat?
A small smile pulls at the corner of my mouth before I can stop it.
Two months ago, I would have ignored the message until the job was finished. Now I find myself reaching for the phone before Cain can even glance in my direction.
I type back immediately.
Not yet. Lock the doors.
Her reply is there in just a few seconds.
Always.
I stare at the screen for a moment longer than necessary.
I mean it, Jade.
The three dots appear almost immediately.
I know. I’m literally surrounded by armed men. I couldn’t leave the house even if I wanted to.
Good.
You’re impossible.
Eat something.
You first.
I shake my head and slide the phone away.
Cain glances at me from the driver’s seat, one eyebrow lifting.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing.”
“You’re staring.”
“I’m trying to understand what happened to my brother,” Cain says. “The man I grew up with would rather cut off his own hand than send someone a fucking heart emoji.”
“I didn’t send her a heart emoji.”
“Yet.”
I look at him and Cain immediately returns his attention to the restaurant.
Smart decision.
I slide the phone away, trying to focus back on the job, but Jade’s message stays somewhere in the back of my mind.
Jade’s wound is now completely healed. The stitches came out weeks ago, leaving a thin, silver scar just above her hip.
She walks without pain and commands the city house staff like she was born to do it.
Well, technically, she was born to do it.
She has also somehow convinced half the staff that I need to eat three meals a day and sleep for more than four hours a night. And those fucking traitors follow her orders along blindly.
But I know that none of this is easy for her either.
Especially the first few weeks after Nolan disappeared.
I expected Jade to feel safer once he was gone from the city, but I underestimated how deeply fear can settle into someone after a gun has been pressed against their head.
Even though she never says she’s scared, I notice things.
Jade would rather swallow broken glass than admit it, though.
The way she checks the locks twice before going to bed. The way her hand instinctively reaches for the gun I made sure she carries whenever an unfamiliar car slows down outside the house. The way she occasionally wakes in the middle of the night and reaches for me before she’s even fully conscious.
I never say anything, but I make sure to pull her closer.
She is safe.
For the first time in my life, I have something waiting for me when the job is done that isn't another meeting, another shipment, another war waiting to be handled.
I have Jade.
A smile pops on my face as soon as that realization hits me.
But the thing is, I am not finished with Nolan Devlin. In fact, I am far from being finished with him.
“He was spotted in Boston,” Cain says from the driver’s seat. He hasn’t taken his eyes off the restaurant entrance. “Elijah’s guy at the port confirmed it an hour ago. The guy saw him walk out of a shipping office near the northern docks on Tuesday. Said he looked thinner. Hair dyed dark.”
“And?” I ask.
“And nothing,” Cain says, his jaw tightening. “By the time our guys kicked the door in, the office was scrubbed. All the computers were smashed and Nolan was already gone. He doesn’t stay in one place for more than twelve hours.”
I stare at the rain running down the glass.
Nolan is starving, but he is smart. He knows how important it is to be moving constantly.
We keep getting notices, blurry camera feeds, whispers from dock workers, but every time we close the net, it comes up empty.
He keeps moving and every time we arrive a few hours too late.
“Chasing him across the country isn’t working,” Cain says, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a small camera, resting it on the steering wheel. “So we stop chasing him, we let his blood trail lead us to him.”
I look across the street at a black town car pulling up to the valet stand in front of the restaurant. The valet opens the rear door with an umbrella and two women step out into the rain.
“His aunt and his cousin,” Cain says, lifting the camera, the shutter clicking rapidly, capturing their faces under the streetlights. “They stayed out of this business. Nolan’s father kept them clean, bought them a house in the suburbs. They act like they don't know anything.”
“But they do,” I say.
“Nolan is running out of cash,” Cain replies, lowering the camera. “He can’t use his old accounts and he needs money to pay the men he took with him.”
We watch the two women walk into the restaurant. They look comfortable, wearing expensive coats and carry designer bags. They have absolutely no idea they are bait.
Cain reaches for the door handle. He pulls up the collar of his dark coat.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
“Inside,” Cain says, his eyes fixed entirely on the restaurant doors. “I’ve been sitting outside this place for three weeks. They come here every Thursday night. They sit at the same table in the back. I'm going to grab a drink at the bar, get close, and listen.”
“If they spot you, the connection burns,” I warn him.
“They won't spot me," Cain says, his voice is cold, carrying that familiar Kavanagh edge.
“I’m going to follow them home. I'm going to track every phone call they make, every bank withdrawal they sign, and every piece of mail they send. Nolan will reach out to them eventually. He has no one else left.”
I look at my brother. The focus hungry for black in his eyes matches my own.
Nolan Devlin put a gun to my wife's head.
He abducted her. He made her believe I wouldn't get to her in time.
And for the first time in my entire life, I understood what absolute helplessness feels like. The debt is permanent.
My phone buzzes again and I take it out.
Did you actually eat?
Cain looks over. “She’s checking up on you again?”
“Shut up, Cain,” As much as I care about my family, my brothers can sometimes be a real pain in the ass.
I type back a short reply.
No.
Her response comes immediately, making my heart sink.
Malachi.
Busy.
You said that six hours ago.
I stare at the message, unsure what to type back. She’s right and I can’t really argue with her about it.
Then another one appears before I get to respond to the first one.
Come home in one piece. I'll make you dinner.
My chest tightens at her words. A few months ago, I wouldn’t had been able to understand why those words would affect me. But now I do.
Because there was a time when I thought I would never have something like this. That there would never be a person waiting for me at home. Or a home for that matter. Someone who knows exactly what I am and loves me anyway.
I type back one final message.
Lock the doors.
The response is immediate.
Always. Come home.
I slide the phone back into my jacket, noticing the way Cain watches me for a second before opening his door.
“Don’t make me regret bringing you along instead of Levi or Elijah,” I tell him.
“What are you going to do? Send me to my room?” He smirks.
“I'll shoot you,” I say, my voice cold.
“There he is.” His grin widens as he pushes the car door open and steps out into the freezing rain. He crosses the dark street, his heavy boots making no sound on the wet asphalt, and disappears through the front doors of the restaurant.
I lean back against the leather seat and continue to watch the glowing windows of the building. We missed him at the airstrip. We missed him in Boston. But the board is resetting.
Nolan can run as far as he wants, but the hunt is far from over.
Zeke and Riley’s story ends in love.
But another Kavanagh brother is about to learn that some women are harder to ruin than they look. And some brides are dangerous enough to tempt even the coldest sinner.