Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 128307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
I should hate the way my cock throbs when the familiar drawl of Adeline sounds out of the baby monitor, but I don’t. Adeline makes cooing noises at Mason while the recognizable vibrations of a bottle warmer buzz in the background, but nothing can detract from the visual of Macy’s hungry gaze.
Her eyes are locked on my cock, and although she remains silent, I’m a skilled enough profiler to know her plan of attack.
My girl wants to suck my dick, and I’m the man born to answer her every whim.
EPILOGUE
MACY
The memory of when I almost died eighteen months ago in a blood-soaked alleyway is hazy compared to the memory of Grayson adjusting the tilt of my hips so he could spear his tongue deep inside my soaked pussy. Our X-rated foray in the shower was only hours ago, so I could blame time for the haziness, but that would be a copout. Every day I share with Grayson makes the painful ones less memorable.
You’re meant to get clean in the shower, but our morning ritual is as important to us as ensuring our son always has one of his parents at his beck and call. It also reminds us that living isn’t solely for the people we’re endeavoring to find.
We deserve a life as well.
Now, instead of being devoured by a man who eats pussy like it could sustain him for eternity, I’m sitting cross-legged on the living room floor of our Ravenshoe home, surrounded by a fortress of case files that fortunately missed last night’s applesauce disaster.
The engagement ring shimmering on my finger is a constant reminder that I’m supposed to be planning a wedding in only six weeks. I wish I could hunker down and iron out all the details, but I can’t yet. Not until I bring Kendall home.
Mason is seated next to me, babbling to a tatty board book that didn’t survive his eighteen-month molars as well as his teethers did. He’s still a baby, but every day he looks less like the fragile preemie I held in the hospital and more like a little boy. His hair is a wild mop of curls, and his cheeks are chubby and adorable.
I’d give anything to freeze time, to cherish these years a little longer, but that would also mean waiting even longer to bring Kendall home.
I can’t do that.
It is time to bring her home.
I rub my eyes, tired from waking up at 4 a.m. to make sure I get my fill of Grayson before Mason wakes a little after 6, before scanning the latest report from Crew. He’s been working with Grayson and me nonstop, and although I’ve said this multiple times over the past eighteen months, I honestly feel like we’re close to bringing Kendall home. Really close.
After Cameron’s ties to the La eMe came to light, we began taking female mafia leaders as seriously as their male counterparts. The intel has been shocking, leading to multiple arrests and the disbandment of over a dozen syndicates.
It is also what led us to India Dvořáks—a ghost in the system, but a woman as ruthless as any man.
India is the key to the syndicate that swallowed my sister when she was resold four and a half years ago, and although she is cunning, she isn’t invincible. We’ve tracked her through three countries, documented her burning through multiple identities, and now, finally, we have solid intel that she is on US soil.
Although I wish we could storm in and arrest her solely on hearsay, we can’t. We need enough evidence to take her down permanently, and we won’t get that without help. We need someone who understands the rules of the underworld and can walk into the den without getting eaten alive.
That person is Maddox Walsh, the man I took the rap for when he murdered the scum who had assaulted me.
He’s not a gang affiliate, not technically, but he is as deep into this case as I am. His fragile state all those years ago was because he was grieving the death of his unborn child—the child India orchestrated to be murdered since its birth would have had ties strong enough to run the Italian cartel.
For the past two weeks, I’ve been working outside the bureau’s safety net. I have tucked my badge away in a drawer, and my loyalties are split between the agency that trained me and the one that will get things done. I’m straddling the line between good and evil, but since I will always ensure my karma balance is even, the consequences of my actions have yet to bite me.
Mason jumps up eagerly when the familiar creak of our front door trickles throughout our coastal bungalow. He sprints for the entryway, shouting his version of “Daddy, Daddy!” with every step he takes.
With a squeal that announces my baby is a toddler, he launches himself into Grayson’s arms. A flood of euphoria heats my veins when Grayson catches him mid-flight before he spins him around the foyer while covering his cheek with sloppy kisses.