Page 43 of Casual Felonies (Wildlings #1)

ANDERS AND OMAR

“Alright, son. Are you ready?”

“I’ve been ready,” Rami answers, sounding a little bored.

“Yes, these briefings can go on a bit,” Omar says, smiling proudly. “But you look so handsome in your new combat gear.”

“Baba…”

“What?” he says, shrugging innocently. “Can’t a father be proud of his son?”

“And you do know that you can say no at any time,” Anders continues with an anxious look. “I’ll be proud of you, even if you never kill another person.”

Rami lets out a long sigh. He’s reassured both fathers that he is perfectly fine, but they’re still a little nervous around him.

“Dad, this is not like the stalking. I’m actually really, really good at this. You can trust me.”

Anders makes a face. When Rami raises his brows, his dad explains, “I’m just weirded out that this is basically a hobby for you. That it doesn’t live under your skin like it does for me.”

“What are you saying?” Uncle Hopper says, sidling up next to his nephew. “You don’t need to kill people? ”

Rami, used to his Uncle Hopper popping up in unexpected places, lifts a shoulder. “I can take it or leave it.”

Hopper and Anders share a look and Hopper shakes his head. “Yeah, I don’t get that at all.”

“Right?” Anders throws his hands up. “Where did I go wrong?”

“Habibi,” Omar says patiently. “You just told our son that it is fine if he is no longer interested in taking lives. Stop making him feel like he’s wrong for not needing to kill. You know that I don’t either, yet I make a very effective operative.”

“Whatever. You like it.”

“Of course I enjoy it, my darling. But I can stop at any time.”

“Disappointments, both of you,” Anders mutters.

Omar and Rami crack up. The thing is, he’s not even exaggerating. He’s genuinely disappointed that they don’t share his love of murder.

“At least I’ve got Hopper,” he says, kicking the rock at his feet. “And Silas.”

Silas, sitting quietly in the back, nods.

Hopper slides his arm around his buddy’s shoulders. “Damn skippy.”

Rami shakes his head as he checks his weapon. “Are we going to kill this motherfucker, or are we going to stand around talking to each other?”

Omar snorts. “Habibi, look. He’s more like you than you thought.”

“Fine,” Anders says, partially mollified. “I do appreciate the initiative.”

RAMI

I lie back, letting my boyfriend wet my hair.

He grins at me as he massages the shampoo in, and I think about everything that’s transpired over the last six months.

For one, he and Silas are practically best friends.

They seem to just get each other. He’s also gotten closer with the Wildlings, and now even our cousins in Seguin come into town for haircuts from Truett.

Maverick and Oak are still mostly on the outside as far as things with Wimberley are concerned, but they seem okay with knowing that Dad’s military career never fully ended. Mav won’t be satisfied with that forever though.

Then there are the things Truett’s done for Dexter. None of us knew we had a hot cousin until Truett convinced him to start growing his hair and get his eyes fixed. Sheesh.

Today, however, we’re celebrating six months since my first gala. A lot of things went wrong that day and the next, but a lot of lessons were learned too.

After months of Suzie’s mentorship, I am now the proud owner of a nonprofit consulting firm, built to help NGOs and charities utilize their social media platforms to gather as much money as possible. Maverick, Maya, and Oak have joined me, and I think we each bring unique strengths to the firm.

For starters, WildBright only takes on organizations with strict anti-discrimination policies, and there’s a waiting list of highly qualified teams. We know the dads have been helping us behind the scenes, but it’s for the good of the community, so we allow it.

One of my most important lessons in all of this has been from True.

It’s not good enough to help people who have been overlooked or ignored by the system.

It’s important to change the system itself.

So when a special election was held for Brantley’s open seat, I threw my hat into the ring.

And because I’m famous for being famous, I won.

Truett and my dads tell me it’s because I’m a good person whom people trust, but I think we all know the score. Either way, I’m proud of my win and of the work I’m doing. A lot of it is thankless, the hours are long, and progress is slow, but I know I’m on the right path.

Just as importantly, to me at least, is verifying that Brantley was the man I knew him to be. Yes, he had addiction issues, but like all people who battle substance abuse, he was never just an addict. Though he struggled, public service had been Brant’s true calling.

Once I was given the keys to his old office, I discovered his plans to address inequities and build a community that would push the systems in the direction of the working class and those who just need a little support.

Brantley had never wanted to be a part of the fraud. I know that in my bones. The more I work with Brantley’s team in the direction of his dreams, the more certain I am that he fully intended to turn state’s evidence and continue serving the community.

Dad’s been pretty vocal about his displeasure with his boss for letting Preston’s goons kidnap my boyfriend, and we’re all supposed to somehow feel better that they supposedly were never going to kill him.

Yeah, right.

Preston was sending a message to Wimberley, Hedy explained, a reminder of the deal he and Seth Wakefield have. He’s since been warned to stay away from the Wildlings and vice versa.

That kind of warning could only ever come from Wakefield, and I still didn’t know what to make of it. A sort of equilibrium has been restored, though, and I’ll take it for however long I can get it.

Now that I understand my fathers a little better, however, I know for a fact that they are simply biding their time.

Baba shared a bit more of his history, and some of what he said stayed with me for days.

Someone like me would’ve never survived in the environment he was raised in, and I am grateful he managed to escape that life.

I’m even more grateful that he’s proud of me and the choices I’ve made.

Still, a man doesn’t survive what he did to allow some rich asshole to hurt his child. And he’s not even the father Whitaker should be worried about.

Speaking of, it still weirds me out that Dad considers experimental surgical god to be his side quest, and that the vigilante work he does with the team out in Wimberley is his purpose.

As for Truett’s work with the Wimberley team, that’s going better than expected.

His social media presence exploded, and I’m told it’s my understanding of the algorithm that’s getting him there.

Even better, Wimberley pays me royalty checks every time they use my algo-genius for profit.

Score. I’m using it to fund WildBright’s scholarship program.

Most importantly, social media influencers have been crawling over each other to get highlighted in True’s videos. Thankfully, a lot of people use their social media fame for good, but enough use it for bad that Truett’s work is making a difference.

Better yet, he hasn’t had to kill anyone.

I, on the other hand, have sharpened my skills in that area. Basically, Dad and I are the only ones comfortable enough to work with Sy, so I run backup when Dad can’t be there for a tricky takedown.

It’s not that serious.

Truett would rather not know the details, but Dad likes to tease Baba that both of their children took after him. Maya with the medical work, and me with the steadily increasing kill count.

As for my haircut, Truett and I get distracted, and he doesn’t get to it for another hour or so, but neither of us is complaining.

Things get a little messy—I can’t help what his edging does to me—and we decide to shower off in his apartment, which is now his office.

We hold each other and let the hot water rain down, exchanging soft kisses, a reminder that the dreams I never let myself dream are becoming more of a reality every day.

TRUETT

“Truett! Come on over, son!”

Rami’s grandparents, whom everyone calls Mama and Papa Bash, love me. If I thought Omar and Anders were ridiculously in love with each other, that has nothing on the Grandparents Bash.

This family has somehow figured out how to fall even more deeply in love with each other as they age. I never thought it was possible, but now that I’m a part of this family, I can’t wait to fall more deeply in love with the man who has my entire heart.

I also learned the hard way that it is good to be circumspect when approaching the elder Bashes’ home, even if they’re expecting you. I don’t think I’ll ever be the same after discovering that Papa Bash is a loud advocate of pegging.

Such is life.

With the help of their sons, the Bashes have been running the small winery on this estate for over two decades now, and the wine they produce is some of the best I’ve ever had. I’m told Papa Bash’s first few attempts at wine making were a little cringeworthy, but he’s clearly figured it out.

Today, we’re here to help with the terracing, which is apparently a thing that needs constant upkeep. Also, Hopper told me to watch out for rattlesnakes, which I’ve decided is just another way for the dad generation to fuck with me.

After a couple of hours, we’re joined by their neighbors, the Goodnights, as well as some of their crew. There are a couple of generations of both family and crew, and all of them are unfairly hot.

“Will you please stop looking at our neighbor’s ass?” Rami begs, sidling up next to me.

“I am not looking at his ass,” I complain, though I was definitely looking at Trip Goodnight’s ass. Middle age looks good on the man.

“Well, you should. I’ve been admiring that fucking ass ever since I was a kid.”

Tease.

“You ain’t right,” I say, pulling my beloved in for a sweaty kiss.

“I’m beginning to think you like that about me.”

I nod, then kiss him again. After coming up for air, I nibble on his ear. Gesturing at the bevy of hot ranch hands, I whisper, “So…which of these guys took young Rami’s virginity?”

Rami goes red, then surreptitiously points out the neighbor’s son. “We were just experimenting. He discovered he is not gay, and I discovered I very much am.”

“Thank God for curious boys,” I say, stealing another kiss.

“Will you stop making out and actually get some work done?” Anders says, grinning like a jackass.

“Whatever,” I toss back. “You’ve still got grass in your hair from when you and your husband disappeared out by the gun range.”

Rami turns to his dad, mouth open. “You’ve always said the gun range is for serious work only. No playing around, no funny business.”

“Well, son, when you become a father, you get to be a big hypocrite like me and your baba.”

I laugh, poking Rami in the side. “As soon as we’re finished out here, I can take you over by the gun range if you want. ”

Anders puts his fingers in his ears. “La, La, la. I don’t wanna hear it.”

“Don’t let my son fool you,” Mama Bash says, coming by with a fresh round of ice water. “Being randy is a proud Bash tradition, one I certainly hope you and my grandson intend to continue.”

I circle Rami’s waist and bring him in tight, nuzzling his temple, thinking of the promises we made to each other this morning, including searching for a place to live where we can get as loud as we want.

“Yes, we do, Mama Bash. For as long as we both shall live.”

Thank you for reading Casual Felonies! If it made you laugh—or question your life choices—do me a solid and leave a star rating or review. It keeps the lights on and the vigilantes (er, writer) caffeinated.

Next, up, Mav and the good detective are going to be making up for some lost time.

Finally, if you’re new here… bless you.