Chapter 31
THIRTY-ONE
Shane's hand was warm and steady in April's as they walked into the Watchdog safehouse. She’d insisted on walking—she didn’t want to scare Kevin. April was still shaking—from shock, from cold, from everything—but his grip anchored her.
The door opened before they reached it.
Kevin burst through, Pete and Benny at his heels. "Mom! Dad!"
Dad.
April's knees nearly buckled. Shane caught her, held her steady as Kevin crashed into them both, wrapping his arms around their waists. They melted into a family hug.
"I knew Dad would save you, Mom,” Kevin said, his voice muffled against Shane's jacket. “Dad and all my uncles can do anything."
April finally—finally—let herself cry for real. Happy tears. Relieved tears. The kind that came from surviving something that should have killed you.
Shane held them both, and April felt the hitching in his shoulders. He was crying, too.
The safehouse living room was full—Sonny and Miriam, Hannah, Arden, the whole Watchdog crew. But they stayed back, giving the three of them this moment.
April heard quiet movement. Her friends slipping out, giving them space. Wren squeezed her shoulder as she passed. Rochelle whispered, "Call me tomorrow." Stephanie just smiled, tears on her cheeks.
But Arden lingered.
She crouched beside April, her hand gentle on Kevin's back. "He's going to be just fine," she said softly. "And if you ever need to talk—about anything, anytime—I'm here."
April nodded, not trusting her voice.
Arden stood, but her eyes held April's for a moment longer. Understanding passed between them. Arden knew what it was like to survive trauma. To wonder if you'd ever feel normal again. And she knew what it took to help someone else get through it, too.
Thank you, April mouthed.
Arden smiled and left.
“Let’s head inside, bud,” Shane said. Kevin nodded. Shane helped April up.
Sonny, Miriam, and Hannah waited in the living room, tears in their eyes. April watched as Sonny approached Shane. The older man paused, then pulled Shane into a bear hug.
"Thank you, son," Sonny said, his voice rough with emotion.
Shane's face crumpled. April knew what this meant to him—receiving the love of a good father figure for the first time in his life. Being called son by a man like Sonny Taylor.
Miriam was beside April then, wrapping her in soft arms and the scent of vanilla. "Oh, baby girl. You're safe now. You're safe."
Hannah was crying—happy tears streaming down her face as she joined the hug.
Sonny pulled away from Shane, turned to April. His hand came up to cover his heart, a hummingbird fluttering, the sign language they'd created together when she was little. I love you. I'm so glad you're home.
April's vision blurred. Sonny opened his arms and she went to him, burying her face in his shoulder like she was six years old again.
“Papa.”
"My brave girl," he whispered. "My brave, brave girl."
They stood like that—family, whole and safe—while the rain finally stopped outside and the world slowly righted itself.
Two days later, April woke in Shane's arms.
They were at her house—finally safe to return. The bed was familiar, the room hers, but everything felt different. Better. Like coming home after a long journey.
Shane's chest rose and fell beneath her cheek, steady and warm. She felt his hand stroke her hair.
"How'd you sleep?" His voice was rough with morning.
"Good, actually." April tilted her head to look at him. "I keep waiting for the nightmares, but they don't come."
"That’s good."
"I'm not sad about Vince." The words came out small. "Does that make me a bad person?"
Shane's hand cupped her face. "No, sweetness."
"He died reaching for money. After everything—that's how he chose to end." April closed her eyes. "I feel sorry for him. But I’m not sad over him."
"You don't have to be."
They lay there in the quiet, listening to sounds from the kitchen. Cabinets opening. The clink of dishes.
Shane smiled. "Think we should check on him?"
"Probably." April grinned. "He's been okay though, right? Talking to Aunt Arden every day?"
"Every day. She's good with him." Shane kissed her forehead. "You planning to talk to her too?"
"Yeah. Soon." April sat up, stretched. "But first—coffee. And whatever disaster Kevin's creating out there."
They dressed quickly, then padded down the hallway in bare feet.
The kitchen smelled like cinnamon and sugar. Kevin stood at the counter, a plate of cinnamon toast in front of him, rainbow sprinkles scattered across the surface like confetti.
"Morning!" Kevin beamed. "I made you breakfast!"
April's heart swelled. "So I see."
Benny sat at Kevin's feet, a suspicious sprinkle clinging to the corner of his mouth. Pete had the brains to look guilty as he licked his chops.
"Did the dogs help?" Shane asked, fighting a smile.
"Maybe a little," Kevin admitted.
They ate cinnamon toast with rainbow sprinkles while morning light streamed through the windows, and April thought: This. This is what I was fighting for.
The Watchdog conference room smelled like coffee and leather and the fresh flowers in a vase on a side table.
April sat between Shane and Kyle. Lach sat across from her.
Gina stood as usual. There were almost as many dogs in the room as there were humans—Sam, Fleur, Camo, and Pete.
Kevin was up front with Miss Jodie, working on a puzzle.
"The authorities attributed Echo Ridge to warring gangs," Gina said, her voice calm and professional. "Russian mob elements fighting over territory. Vince knew Yuri from prison and was in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"What about Vince's lawyer?" April asked. "And Gabriela? She saw me leave with—"
"Handled," Gina said. "Vince's lawyer was compensated to maintain client confidentiality. He won't talk about his former client's activities or whereabouts that day."
"And Gabriela was told that on the day of the hearing, an ambulance took you to the hospital," Kyle added. "You'd twisted your ankle and hit your head. They wanted to check for concussion."
"You had a minor one," Shane said, squeezing her hand. "You couldn't call us from the clinic because I had your phone. Then you were resting so I got back to her for you and explained everything. You're perfectly fine now.”
April blinked. "She believed that?"
"She had no reason not to," Gina said. "The courthouse was evacuated. There was confusion. An ambulance was there for the smoke inhalation cases. The story fits."
"But will authorities track it back to us?" April's voice rose slightly. "What if—"
"They won't." Gina's golden eyes were steady. "And if somehow they did, it would be fixed immediately."
April wasn't sure she wanted to know what fixed immediately meant in Gina's world.
"Now," Gina said, pulling out a familiar object from her bag. "Let's talk about this."
April's Lucky Louis. Battered now, from the shootout, but still recognizably hers.
Gina opened her hand. On her palm lay a tiny memory card, no bigger than a fingernail.
"Unbelievable," April whispered. "Something that small caused all of this."
"We found it in the lining," Gina said. "But we need the password." She dropped the chip into April's palm. "Any idea what Vince might have used?"
April stared at the tiny chip. This was it. This was what Vince had killed for. What he'd nearly gotten her killed for.
"I could try a few things," she said. "How many attempts do I get before it locks?"
"The encryption allows unlimited attempts," Gina said. "But every wrong guess adds exponential processing time. After three or four failures, we're looking at hours between tries."
"No pressure," April muttered.
Shane squeezed her hand. "Take your time."
Gina set up a laptop, inserted the chip into a reader. A prompt appeared on screen, cursor blinking.
ENTER PASSWORD
April's hands shook. "This is the biggest bet I've ever placed."
"Would it be your birthday?" Shane asked.
April laughed despite herself. "Oh hell no. Vince was way too self-absorbed. It would be his birthday. He used his birthdate as the code for our home safe. Vince was not a complicated guy. He liked himself. He liked money. He liked fine things."
She waited until her hands stopped shaking, then typed:
PROSECCO0815
INCORRECT PASSWORD
April groaned.
"It's okay, sweetness," Shane said. "Try again."
“What if...”
She tried again:
VUITTON0815
INCORRECT PASSWORD
April dropped her chin, closed her eyes.
"It's okay," Gina said gently. "You can try again later if—"
"Wait." April looked up. "It’s stupidly obvious. Vince loved winning more than anything."
She typed:
VUITTONJACKPOT0815
The screen flickered. Lines of code scrolled past. Then:
ACCESS GRANTED
“We’re in!” She turned and hugged Shane. “So…now what do I do?”
Gina leaned in. “Elissa walked me through this once. Let’s see….there it is, the code. Now, for the wallet.”
April was too nervous to pay attention to what Gina was typing, until she saw:
WALLET BALANCE: 2,847.3 BTC
Below it, in smaller text: USD EQUIVALENT: $47,382,916.00
April stared at the screen. Read it again. For the first time in her life, a number didn’t make any sense to her. It just couldn’t be.
Shane had to catch her before she slid out of her chair.
"Whoa, hey. I've got you." His arms were solid around her. "Breathe, April. Just breathe."
"Forty-seven million dollars," April whispered. "After taxes—do I have to pay taxes?—that's still—"
"A lot of money," Gina finished. She was smiling. Actually smiling. "Yeah. That's a lot of money."
April looked at the laptop screen again. The numbers didn't change.
Then she looked at the ruined purse in Gina's hands.
"It was my lucky purse," April said, and something between a laugh and a sob escaped her throat. “It’ll cost a fortune to repair.”
Shane pulled her closer. "We'll get it repaired. Or buy you ten new ones."
April touched the damaged leather. "Oh. Yeah. I guess I can now."
She could fix a lot of things. Like a certain espresso machine.