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When Detective Sully and Rafe leave, I shift my attention to a second monitor. I can’t hear them speaking as well as I did when they were inside, so I turn up the volume.

“Does your captain know you’re in their pocket?” Sully asks Rafe.

Rafe shakes his head. “He knows I’m on good terms with Puma and the club. They own a successful casino downtown and they sponsor several charities. You’ll find Puma is well-liked in this state. Many are fans of his when he played ball.”

Sully’s head snaps toward Rafe. “What?”

Rafe laughs as he opens the car door. “You just met the great Maklin Brooks. Not a Celtics fan? Is that allowed?” Rafe slides behind the wheel and shuts his door. Sully stands outside and stares back at the clubhouse doors. The stunned look on his face would be comical if I didn’t believe he hurt Abby.

Wildcard opens the panic room twenty minutes after the cops leave. Colt races out to greet his father.

“Dad! We were in the panic room. Elina said we have to go in there when the bad guys show up. Were there bad guys? Did you scare them away?”

Wildcard chuckles. “Weren’t any bad guys this time. Just had a visitor we weren’t expecting. Better to keep you guys safe.”

“That’s what Elina said. That we have to do what you say because you’ll keep us safe.”

Wildcard grins at me. “Exactly right. That’s our job.”

“My stomach is trying to eat my backbone,” Hunter says. “Let’s go see what’s for lunch.”

The kids cheer at this suggestion and follow Hunter to the common room.

“Do you think we’ll get cookies?” Colt asks Wildcard.

“I think I smelled cookies baking. Maybe you’ll get some after you eat your lunch. Deal?”

Colt nods his head. “Deal.”

I smile as I follow them, my heart full, knowing that Colt has his father in his life. Speaking of fathers, I see mine placing plates down in front of the kids as they take their seats.

“Gramps, Dad said you might have cookies for us later.”

My dad grins at Colt. “You know what? Ms. Claudia has a batch of cookies baking in the oven. They’ll be ready by the time you’re done eating.”

“Cookies!” the children all shout as they dig into their lunch.

“What do you say to your grandpa?” I ask. Even though the question was directed at my son. All the kids answer.

“Thanks, Gramps!”

Dad chuckles as he returns to the kitchen.

Wildcard leads me to Puma’s table and we take our seats. A few minutes later, two prospects bring out bowls of chili and fresh bread. Puma takes a bite and groans.

“Your dad is a phenomenal cook. I’m glad he chose to stay. We just need to figure out his new road name. I was thinking Cook or Chef.”

“Agreed,” Wildcard moans as he plops a piece of bread covered in chili into his mouth.

“It’s nice not having to cook,” Alisa says. “I can focus on other things.”

“Like growing my baby,” Puma says, reaching over to rub his massive paw over her still flat stomach.

“Luckily, that doesn’t take much effort on my part. At least not yet. I’m sure I’ll be a walking house by the time your baby is ready to come out and play.” She glances at me. “I’m not looking forward to giving birth.”

“I don’t blame you,” I laugh as Wildcard shudders.

Puma gives Alisa a pout, so she reaches over and pats his arm. “Everything will be fine. We just need to get the house finished, so he or she has somewhere to sleep. I’m not caring for a baby in the clubhouse.”