Page 50

“Thanks again for everything. My family owes you a debt of gratitude. Truth be told, the whole damn city does.”

I blow off the praise. That isn’t why we do what we do. “All in a day’s work. Justice was a long time coming.”

“It sure as hell was.”

Originally, the chief called to tell me he was able to make the final arrest of his career this morning when he happily put Mayor Kirkland in cuffs. Like me, Bigsby is retiring soon.

The conversation quickly spiraled into a blend of personal and case-related topics. I enjoy talking to him. And now that I don’t have a shitload of pressure on my shoulders, I didn’t feel guilty about shooting the shit.

He also told me Huxley Bowen was brought up on federal charges for his role in Lenkov’s failed Miami trafficking attempt. That should keep him off the street for a long time. With Katia’s help, they might have enough to get him on human trafficking and sexual assault charges as well. He needs to be labeled a sexual predator for the rest of his life.

Bigsby’s exhale crackles the line. “You know, I play poker once a month with some friends. I bet you’d fit right in. Some of them are former military. We have an opening at our table now that Patterson is pushing daisies, where he belongs. Traitor. So... are you interested?”

“Assuming this place doesn’t burn down when I retire, I’ll have more free time soon. Count me in.”

He utters a raspy laugh. “Excellent.”

I can’t help but think I made a friend. One in my age range, who doesn’t need me for something.

Blinking out of the odd thought, I return us to business. “Keep me posted on any new developments with the trafficking customer arrests.”

“Will do. I have no doubt Katia will be able to provide everything we need to take down the rest of the people on that list. After everything she’s suffered, she’s more than eager to do it.”

Come to find out, Katia was protecting her father from Lenkov by not telling him she was pretending to be a double agent. Lenkov was watching her every move, and if he ever suspected Bigsby—or his bratva alias, Alexei—was aware of what they were doing, he’d have been killed. As it was, Lenkov never disclosed Patterson was dirty. She was as surprised as the rest of us.

For years, she worked to become an asset to Lenkov, earning his trust to get her hands on more evidence to take him down. A brilliant plan.

“Excellent.” My eyes catch on the box on the corner of the desk. “Well, I better run. Talk soon.”

“Take care, Lancaster.”

Words I never planned to say—ever—fall out of my mouth before I can stop them. “You know what, Bigsby? You can call me... Alan.”

“And you can call me Bigs.”

My lips tug into a grin. “Have a good night, Bigs.”

“You too, Alan.”

Once I hang up, I’m struck with a sense of contentment so profound that it’s almost jarring. A soul-cleansing rush of oxygen flees me, making my shoulders and spine sag.

I asked him to call me Alan. Willingly.

And I didn’t get queasy or angry. There was no brewing rage or underlying sadness.

It was comfortable. Normal.

Wonders will never cease.

Before we drifted off to sleep last night, Maddie asked me about Daniel.

It was difficult to talk about his death. Yet it was also so damn freeing. Each word that fell from my mouth carried with it another layer of guilt and anguish.

This morning, when I woke, the persistent ache of his loss no longer festered under my ribs.

I lean back in my chair, prop my elbows on the armrests, and stare unseeing into the distance. For a while, I simply exist, letting my mind wander anywhere it wants to go.

Try as I might, I can’t recall experiencing such a bone-deep contentment. Over the years, I periodically experienced lesser versions, often when things were calm at Redleg. And in quiet moments with Maddie, I found tranquility.

Sadly, it never lasted.

All it took was a text or a phone call to send me back into operator mode. The looming sense of dread was never far.

It’s gone now, though.

There are no emergencies or danger. No fires to put out or mile-long to-do lists. And for the first time in what feels like ages, vengeance isn’t driving me. Neither is guilt over my brother.

Deep in my gut, there’s only peace and happiness.

I feared I’d never see the day when our battle with the bratva would be in the rearview. It’s like a chapter coming to an end. With it comes another type of ending.

It’s time to say goodbye to Redleg and pass it on to the next generation.

I’ll get to know my daughter. Do some traveling with Maddie.

And live.

Live for ourselves and each other. And for our family.

My vision slowly comes into focus, my eyes landing on the gift box Maddie brought in. I almost forgot about it.

Reaching across my desk, I tug it over and untie the long blue ribbon. When I remove the box’s lid, my eyes bulge.

A wave of nostalgia flutters over my skin.

That thoughtful little trickster. Maddie didn’t pick this up when she was out, as if it were a toaster or gallon of milk. This is a damn care package.

I riffle through the snacks and goodies filling the top layer. Animal crackers, Black Rifle Coffee, sunblock, lip balm, beef jerky, and more.

My memory isn’t the steel trap it was, but this looks almost identical to the first package she sent me all those years ago. With the damn cock socks and crocheted soldier—Little Al.

Silent laughter shakes my shoulders.

Below the snacks and sundries is a thick layer of tissue paper that covers a slew of small gift-wrapped items. There’s also a note in Maddie’s handwriting.

Open them in order. xo

Grabbing the present with the number one written on it, I tear into the paper. A one-note laugh rattles my chest. The recent appearance of Maddie’s crocheting supplies makes sense now.

She made me another cock sock. This one is black and white. I’d guess penguin or zebra, but it doesn’t have little eyes like the horse did. And... is that a bow tie?

When I turn it over, there’s a tiny tag attached.

With all the weddings coming up, I thought you needed formal attire.

No longer able to restrain it, my booming laugh bellows from deep inside me.

I open the second gift, finding a mini crotched figure, similar to the little soldier she made me fifteen plus years ago. This one isn’t a soldier. It’s a bearded man with silver-streaked hair, wearing a tuxedo. Like the other gift, this one has a tag on the back.

My Alan.

My throat threatens to close, and my sinuses sting.

The final gift is another crotched figure. A woman in an off-white dress. Brown flowing hair with strands of gray falls past her shoulders. She holds a small bouquet of blue flowers that match her eyes.

I don’t need to turn it over to know this is my bride.

The last item in the box is an envelope. With my heart thrashing raucously, I open it and retrieve a note written by Maddie’s hand.

My dearest Alan,

Before you came into my life, love was a four-letter word. One synonymous with pain, both physical and emotional. And so I hid from it, tucked away from the world. You taught me, day after day and year after year, how wrong I was. You gently encouraged me to leave the safety of my den, intent on showing me that not all love hurts.

And you were right.

In sixteen years, the only time loving you caused me pain was when I denied you... or denied us.

Although I’ll always regret the years we missed, I know it was for the best. If I would have emerged before I was healed, I would have hurt you. After all, wounded bears attack when they’re threatened and scared.

I was scared for so long.

Alan, I’m not scared anymore. And I owe it to you.

Because when I was blinded by my trauma and couldn’t see the love right in front of me, you stood there and waited until I could. You reached out for me with the tenderness of a man who knows what love is worth. With the patience of a redwood, you waited. I don’t know why you did. Especially when I made choices that cut you. But you were steadfast, clad in your battle armor. Always ready and willing to fight for love. To fight for us.

From now on, you won’t fight alone.

When you’re ready, get dressed in those new fancy clothes you got today and meet me in the conference room.

It’s someday.

Love always and forever,

Your Maddie

xo

P.S. You didn’t really think Lettie would let Tomer get out of wearing a tuxedo, did you?

I wipe a lone tear from the corner of my eye and reread the letter twice. My fingertip lingers over the tiny x and o under her signature.

Before I stand, I return everything to the box, including the formal cock sock. I contemplate putting it on underneath the dress slacks. But I think it’s better saved for the honeymoon.

When I gather up the tissue paper, something flutters onto my lap.

It’s the old, wrinkled receipt from the diner on the night we met. I gave it to her on Christmas Eve in the hospital after Sammy had the twins. In the madness of the evening, I never got to explain the significance to Maddie. She kept it, though.

On the receipt is a sticky note.

Bring this. I have something borrowed, blue, and new. We needed something old (aside from us).

I’ll have to tell her I kept this note because it was the night I carved out the rest of my life. The night I decided to form Redleg. And the night I started to fall in love with her.

In a way, I created Redleg because of Maddie. And soon, I’ll leave it for her.

Five minutes later, I exit my office with the receipt tucked into the pocket of my crisp linen shirt. Lionheart waits in the hallway, holding a single blue rosebud. It matches the one pinned to his shirt. A boutonniere.

Without speaking, he dips his chin and approaches. He removes the pin and attaches it to my shirt.

“Thank you,” I tell him, my voice thick with emotion. “Does this mean I’m forgiven for dating your mother behind your back?”

He retreats a step, then returns to straighten the rose. His smile quirks into a sneaky grin. “It took a lot of restraint not to jab you with this needle.”

We share a laugh.

He clasps my shoulder and looks into my eyes. “I know she asked you not to tell me. I get it. She’s hard to tell no. Especially when you love her.”

“She sure is.”

Gradually, his grin splays across his entire face. “Thanks for loving her.”

“No thanks needed. Loving her is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

“What do you say?” He tips his head down the hall. “You ready to become my stepdad?”

“No.”

He slants his head and arches his brows to the sky.

“I’m ready to become your father. I promise I’ll do a better job than the one you had.”

“Fucker,” he mutters under his breath as he slams into me with a tight hug. He thumps his giant lion paw against my back hard enough to make me cough. “Love you.”

I pat his cheek when he pulls away. “I love you too.”

A few seconds later, he leads me into the conference room. My jaw drops.

No clue how they did it, but the room has been transformed into something barely recognizable.

White twinkle lights hang from the ceiling, and the table is shoved against the long wall like it was during the holiday party. There’s an aisle running through the center of the room, with about fifteen office chairs on both sides.

I chuckle when I see what’s displayed at the end of the aisle. In lieu of an altar, they used the projector to display a photo of a beachfront wedding arch on the wall.

It’s perfect.

Nothing fancy or over-the-top. But memorable all the same. And surrounded by the people who mean the most to us.

My groomsmen meander around the room, chatting with the Redleg employees and other familiar faces filling the chairs on both sides of the aisle.

I wave at Detective Salgado, who’s seated in the back row. My eyes catch on a popcorn machine behind her in the corner.

For the show. Ha. Well played, Sammy.

Sawyer heads right for Leo and me. “You ready for this, Big Al?” His voice is refreshingly accent-free, which I’ll assume is his wedding gift to me.

I flash a grin. “I’ve been ready.”

He gives me a knowing look. “Relatable.”

Again, no impression.

Is it possible I’ll miss that when I retire?

Nah . I’ll get enough of his bullshit when I visit.

Klein, Tomer, and Shep amble over, joining our group.

With his chest puffed, Klein gestures toward the table. “I made your wedding cake. You’re welcome.”

Sawyer fist pumps, which tracks since he inhaled the one Klein made for the holiday party.

“Thank you for the cake, Klein. Can’t wait to try it.”

Tomer brushes his elbow against my arm. “Sorry you didn’t get the chance to pick your groomsmen.” He gestures toward Sawyer and Shep. “Since they’re so sensitive, I caved and let them join us. Once Jonesy arrives, I’ll ask him to remove them if you’d prefer. Your call.”

“Tomer’s got jokes now.” Shep rolls his eyes. “We’re all fucking doomed. Next thing you know, Sawyer will switch to decaf, and Kri will wear skirts.”

Leo groans in jest. “What is this place coming to?”

I nudge him with my shoulder. “You’re gonna have your work cut out for you with this crew. I hope you’re ready.”

“Are you really leaving us, Boss?” Tomer asks, all traces of his upbeat demeanor gone.

“Leaving Redleg? Yes. Leaving my family? Never.” I wink at him. “Can’t go far when my grandson will be here soon.”

Sawyer’s sarcasm returns in the next breath. “Um. Excuse me. Your first grandson is already here, and your granddaughter is too. Show some respect for the fruits of my loins.”

Leo adds, “Yeah. Plus, Sue’s due before Lettie.”

Tomer holds out his palms. “Didn’t realize this was a race.”

I’d like to tell them it’s not a competition. However, I’m selfishly enjoying watching them fight over me like siblings.

And I guess they are.

Shit.

Fortunately, I’m saved from springing eye leaks when Jonesy barges into the room. “Oh, thank fuck. We didn’t miss it.”

Familiar faces I haven’t seen in years trail a few steps behind Jonesy. Holy shit. Maddie’s gonna be thrilled.

Leo charges over to them, encircling them in his giant embrace, two at a time.

Wearing a perpetual smile, I approach with my hand extended. “Drew, good to see you.”

He shakes my hand firmly. “Sorry we’re late. We got here as soon as we could. Our flight was delayed.” He tips his chin toward Jonesy. “Thanks for sending him to get us.”

“Don’t thank me. I had no idea this was happening until about twenty minutes ago. I’m glad you’re here, though. Your mom’s gonna be thrilled.”

A pretty brunette woman strolls up beside him. He throws his arm over her shoulder. “Not sure you ever met my wife. This is Tara.”

She smiles warmly at me. “Nice to meet you, Alan.”

The urge to correct her use of my name bubbles up out of habit, but I quash it.

“And these are our kids. Stephanie and David.”

Twirling in an adorable soft pink dress, Stephanie beams at me. “Are you our new grandpa?”

Fucking hell. We need to get a new janitorial crew. Too much dust around here these days.

We make pleasantries until Tomer comes up behind me and squeezes my shoulders. “It’s time, Big Al.”

A few minutes later, I stand at one end of the aisle with Leo on my left, followed by Tomer, Sawyer, Shep, and Klein. Soft music fills the air. But I barely hear it over the pounding of my heart.

Maddie’s bridesmaids breeze down the aisle one by one—Mia, Kri, Lettie, Sue, and Sammy. They all look beautiful in simple wispy knee-length dresses—even Kri. Each a different shade of blue.

The song ends, and another starts playing. A beautiful solo piano intro gives way to an ethereal voice. I glance to the right to find the source. Lettie’s singing something about growing old together and being two branches of one tree.

My heart couldn’t possibly be any fuller.

I rock on my heels, wipe my sweaty palms on my pants, and then lock my hands in front of me.

Maddie’s granddaughter in the adorable pink dress prances down the aisle, sprinkling flower petals every few steps.

And then there’s my Maddie, looking as radiant as the sun and smiling twice as vibrantly.

Right at me.

Like the bride doll she crocheted for me, Maddie holds a small bouquet of blue flowers. Her simple off-white dress falls below her knees. With each step, the fabric whooshes and flutters.

She’s flawless.

When she gets halfway down the aisle, I lose my patience and close the distance between us in three long strides.

“You’re supposed to wait up there,” she whispers, dazzling blue eyes full of surprise.

I cup her cheeks, letting my thumb linger on her scar. “I’m also supposed to wait until the end to kiss you. I’m done waiting.”

“ We are done waiting.”

And I kiss her.

In the middle of a makeshift aisle, surrounded by the people we love, I kiss the love of my life.

When our lips separate, neither of us makes a move to pull away.

I’m stunned and grateful for what she’s done here today. Claiming me—openly and proudly, with the confidence of a woman in control of her life.

As if she’s silently encouraging me to look deep into her eyes, she widens them for me. I dive headfirst into sparkling azure pools of love and strength.

I see Madeline. All of her.

Not only the pieces, but the entire beautiful woman.

No longer broken or scared.

She’s done hiding.

She’ll fight to the end for us because she believes she’s worthy of love.

Her mama bear is finally free.

And so is our love.

* * *

Several Months Later

Bigsby puffs his lips aggressively around the tip of his cigar as he lights it and throws a look my way. “I hope the smoke doesn’t get you in trouble with that lovely wife of yours.”

Smirking, I shuffle the deck of cards. “Last time, she didn’t give me any banana bread for an entire week. I’ll probably strip down in the garage before I go in the house tonight to get rid of the stench.”

A plume of smoke billows around his face. It’s so thick that it nearly blocks his shit-eating grin. “Get her to shower with you when you get home.” He bats away the smoke, revealing his waggling brows.

I shake my head. “Should I deal, or are we gonna wait for Andrews?”

His friend from the Bureau joined our little poker group a few months ago. Nice enough guy. But his tardiness tonight is pissing me off. I might be retired, but I still respect the clock.

Bigsby sets his cigar down in the ashtray and grabs the bottle of bourbon, topping off my glass. “He texted a few minutes ago. They got hung up on a case but should be here any moment.”

On my right, Yuri sets down his glass of vodka and raises a bushy brow at his friend. “They?”

Bigsby answers, “Andrews is bringing his new partner. Apparently, the kid has a stick up his ass.”

Yuri chuckles darkly. “And this is who he bring tonight? Does he expect us to remove stick? I do not have... how you say? Lube.”

Everyone chuckles.

I glance over my shoulder at the pool. “If the stick is firmly implanted, we could always toss him in for a swim. That might help with the extraction.”

More laughter.

Almost on cue, the doorbell rings. From inside the house, Katia hollers, “I’ll get it, papochka .”

A giant smile splays across Bigs’ entire face. “Thank you, darling.”

Since she and the baby live here, he’s banished from the house when he smokes. So he permanently moved his poker table out to the screened-in back patio. He likes to bitch about it, but we all know he’s happy to have her back in his life and would do anything for his family.

Relatable.

I take a look through the sliding glass door to see Andrews sauntering through the house toward the back patio. A familiar face follows a few steps behind him.

What the fuck is he doing here? Can’t I have one night a month without my Redleg kids interfering? Is that too much to ask? And where the hell is Andrews’ new partner?

I toss the deck of cards on the table and stand. My hands automatically go to my hips so I look as ticked off as I feel.

When Andrews steps onto the back deck, he opens his palm toward the shit-disturber. “Gents, this is my partner, Reed.”

I wave him off and interrupt, addressing the Redleg court jester, who is definitely not named Reed. “Don’t you have twins to look after?”

Sawyer’s head kicks back, and he acts affronted. “Excuse me?” He looks over his shoulder as if I’m talking to someone else.

My head slants to the side. “If you wanted to play poker, you could have asked. And by the way, as far as practical jokes go, this isn’t your best work.”

Andrews quirks his brows and opens his palms, his gaze bouncing between me and Sawyer. “Do you two know each other?”

“Drop the act, Andrews.” I lower to my chair and roll my eyes. “We all know he’s not your partner. Not sure how he got you embroiled in his fuckery, but the jig is up.”

Sawyer steps forward, a hint of cockiness in his gait. “I’m sorry. I’m a little confused about what’s happening here. Andrews didn’t think it would be a problem for me to join the game. If I’m not welcome, I won’t stay. No skin off my ass.”

His voice is gruffer than usual. And it isn’t one of his accents or impressions. At least, not one I’ve ever heard.

Andrews sweeps his gaze around the table. “What the fuck is happening?”

I look from Bigsby to Yuri for a reaction. While the other guys in our group don’t know Sawyer, those two do. Surely, I’m not the only one who sees this. I’m still unsure what the joke is, though. Is he simply gaslighting me for the sake of it? Has fatherhood destroyed his ability to prank properly?

Yuri raises his tumbler of vodka, extending one finger at Sawyer. “You are friend of Shepherd. Yes?”

“I don’t know anyone named Shepherd.”

Again, the voice isn’t quite right. I stand and inch closer to him. It’s not all that bright out here, but I know Sawyer when I see him.

“This is strange,” Bigsby muses.

“Sawyer, what’s the joke?” I ask as I approach him. “Spit it out, kid. Get to the punchline already. You’re fucking up poker night.”

My gut twitches, firing a warning shot. Not about pending danger, but something else.

He puffs up his chest. “Listen, man. I don’t know what your problem is. My name isn’t Sawyer. It’s Reed.”

I stop a few feet in front of him and look into his familiar brown eyes.

Somehow, they’re also un familiar.

Rage simmers behind his irises, and it blends with waves of distrust. Deeper, there’s... pain. A metric shit ton of it.

I trail my gaze over him, scrutinizing his physical features.

His hair isn’t quite the same as Sawyer’s. A bit shaggier. And he’s got more scruff on his face than usual. He has wrinkles that Sawyer doesn’t have, thanks to his expensive skincare products.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

This is not Sawyer.

Yet he looks almost exactly like him. Not just a doppelg?nger or a brother.

With the realization, my gut calms instantly.

“I’m sorry. You bear an uncanny resemblance to someone I know,” I mutter. “It’s extraordinary. You could be twins.”

Acceptance crisscrosses his face, and some of his irritation fades. After a crisp exhale, he cocks a brow at me. “This person you know... does he live here in Clearwater?”

“Yes.”

“He wouldn’t happen to be named Perry , would he?”

My windpipe swells, choking my airway. I can only answer with a single nod.

Hearing someone refer to Sawyer by his given name never fails to shock me. The fact that it’s coming from someone who looks just like him shakes the ground beneath my feet.

As this sinks in, no one speaks for several seconds.

This man—apparently Reed —stares me down, unflinching and calculating. I get the feeling he’s deciding how to respond or where to go from here. There’s uncertainty coating his expression. Perhaps he’s considering storming out.

Once I find my tongue again, I cock my head to the side and ask, “Do you know him?”

He tips his chin up. “I’ve never met him.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

He chuckles morosely, the sound utterly devoid of humor. His expression tells me in no uncertain terms that he’s done with this discussion.

Mia’s words from the past pound through my mind like a marching band. When I asked her for research on Lettie’s family, she said she had info on other people at Redleg. Is this what she meant?

Reed clears his throat and faces his partner. “Andrews, I think I’m gonna pass on poker. Thanks for the offer.” He gives the others around the table a curt nod, then returns to me with an icy glare. “Let’s forget we ever met.”

He makes a hasty exit before I have a chance to tell him that there’s no fucking way that’s happening.

Not a fucking chance.

* * *

Thank you for reading Boss and Maddie’s epic love story and the rest of the Redleg Security Series.