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Chapter Thirty-One

Trace

The worst day of my life was when I had to let child services take Jolie. I vowed then and there I would do whatever it took to keep her safe.

That was, until the day my babies were taken. Losing them trumped letting Jolie go because this time I could see the look in her eyes, knowing I let her down. It’s been so hard to face her the last few days. But now that they are back, I don’t know what to say to her.

Chester volunteered to do the body retrieval, and where he goes, Creed or Laughn are usually not far behind. Brennan says he wants most of us to be here, as we can’t risk the babies’ safety until the new security team is here and in place. Apparently that process takes time, especially when you don’t trust anybody.

“I’m going with Chester,” I announce to the room, and while everyone’s eyes find me, none of them argue, which is surprising. It helps that Boston is MIA at the moment, as usually it’s him questioning everything like a spoiled child.

“Fine, but be careful just in case he didn’t go down like we were told,” Brennan advises. “It could very well be a trap. I don’t know if we can trust Melinda yet or not, so I want you to be prepared. The clean-up crew are also on their way to the location, so if we have dead bodies, they will bring them to the morgue. Be safe and don’t give Jolie any more to worry about.”

“Yes, boss,” Chester replies. “Let’s act like birds and get the flock outta here.”

“Just, no,” I tell him.

Both Chester and I walk out to his car, but there is zero point arguing with him over who gets to drive. When he gets a task, he gets tunnel vision and needs to be in control. I’m just along for the ride because I really need to avoid reality right now. I just need to see with my own two eyes that Ziyon is gone. He is the last threat to our family, and him being eradicated would calm my nerves.

Chester speeds off down the driveway, the destination already programmed into his GPS. The cheeky son of a bitch was staying right under our noses. We never would have been able to link the location with him—since it’s an apartment complex that’s currently under renovations. Marlow traced the purchase, but it is registered under an alias. It would have taken Marlow and Jimmie forever to find the link.

I hold tight for the trip since Chester drives like he has a date with death. We might have a lot of abilities, but we can still bloody die and get seriously injured.

“Fuck man, slow down a little. We have kids to live for now. If you kill us, Jolie will find a way to reincarnate you just to kill you again.”

Chester smirks but slows down a little—not enough to actually be a law-abiding citizen. But at least my brain won’t be splattered into the windscreen if we crash.

The clean-up crew still hasn’t arrived by the time Chester and I get there, but we expected that since Mr Fast and the Furious here was driving. We don’t bother waiting for them since their job is to load the bodies and clean the area.

We enter the building, looking around for any sign of where he would have been holed up. “Let’s try the top floor,” Chester says, pointing to a set of stairs.

I have to agree. Ziyon has lived underground for years; he would have wanted to be king of this new castle.

We take the three flights of stairs to the top floor. There is a short hallway and one door at the end.

The door is slightly ajar, and the frame has a smear of blood—a handprint. Chester points at it, and I nod. We move closer, and without further warning, Chester kicks the door open more.

We don’t need to look very hard, as a body is lying on the floor a couple metres into the room. Chester steps through the doorway, instinctively ducking when something is swung at his head. I rush forward as Chester takes a man to the floor.

“Stop, it’s me!” the man shouts. Chester raises his fist and halts, looking down. “It’s me, Paul.”

Chester pushes up and stands, but doesn’t offer to help him to his feet. “What the fuck are you doing? Why didn’t you call Brennan?”

“It’s hard to call someone when Ziyon takes our phones until our shifts are over, and his is password protected. I figured someone would show up eventually. The woman took the babies, and I have no idea where they went.”

“We have the babies,” I tell him, and his body physically loosens up. He knows his family was on the line.

“Thank god. Does that mean I can see my wife and kids now?”

I nod, watching as relief flashes in his eyes.

“Is he dead?” Chester asks, kicking Ziyon’s lifeless body.

“He sure is—she got him good. That motherfucker shot me, but I managed to get the damn bullet out.”

“Let me look. Chester, go check if the clean-up crew is here yet, and get them to sort this shit out.”

Chester doesn’t respond, but he kicks the body again, harder this time, before he walks from the room.

Paul leads me to the bathroom, where a first aid kit is already on the sink. “I tried to sew it up myself, but I couldn’t—my hands kept shaking too fucking much. So I put a damn sanitary pad on it and taped it to my skin.”

I snort, and he shoots me a look.

He lifts his shirt, letting me see his patchwork attempt; he has done a good job at taping the pad to his arm. Paul was bloody lucky it was there and not in his chest. No way he would have survived a bullet wound there.

“It should be good how you have it, for now. We can get a doctor to check it over, and I will make the call to get your family home. I’m sorry we used your kids as pawns.”

“Don’t be. I would have done the same if someone took my kids. Just don’t do it again. Unless you plan to only take my wife. I love her, but she is a royal pain in my ass.”

“My girl would kick my ass if I even thought that.”

“Yeah, well, wait until you have been together for over twenty years. Just make sure you keep the magic alive.”

“What the fuck are you two gossiping about in here? Clean-up has arrived, and I want to get home and see Jolie. I don’t know about you, but I’m glad this bullshit is over. And now we are for sure taking time off from this shit.”

“Strip down to your underwear,” I tell Paul. “Anything with any DNA needs to be left behind. The clean-up crew will bring you sweats and a hoodie.”

We all head into the living area, and the clean-up guys make us all strip down butt-naked and put on a brand-new set of clothes. This isn’t our first rodeo, so we know exactly what to expect. Creed usually deals with our stuff, but these guys are new. Even Chester doesn’t argue, which is strange. He must really need a break. He is right, though. We all need to take a few weeks to settle into family life and focus on us. Olympia will still be there when we get back. I’m sure there are other people who can deal with it. Brennan won’t like the idea, but I bet Jolie can convince him.

Chester makes the executive decision to take Paul home, since we are already on this side of the city. There is no need to drag him back to our house—Ziyon is dead, and we can get a statement from him later, if we need it. I made a call to Brennan after we stripped, and he agreed to get Paul’s family home. I assured Paul that he would be compensated for his time working for us. Not that he had a choice, but still, we are not completely heartless. Besides, you never know when we might just need him again.

“I need to make a pit stop before we go home,” Chester says, detouring back into the city after leaving Paul’s place. He doesn’t elaborate, not that I expected him to.

He pulls into a parking spot on the main street, right out front of a tattoo shop. “You’re not seriously getting a tattoo right now? You know they just fall out.”

“I wouldn’t let a stranger touch my skin. Who do you think I am?” he says in exasperation.

After Chester turns off the vehicle, we both exit the car. I check out the street as we walk into the shop. We can’t be too careful, after all. It’s a very generic store; pictures of tattoos line the walls, it smells like disinfectant, and the hum of someone getting a tattoo fills the air.

“How can I help you?” a young guy our age asks.

“I want to get this done,” Chester says, and places his phone down on the counter. The guy visibly winces, and I look over Chester’s shoulder to see what he wants. I’m sure my expression matches the employee’s. I don’t understand it—Laughn and his ball bearings, Creed and his Jacob’s ladder, and Case with his Prince Albert. Why would anyone want something shoved into their dick?

“A magic cross,” a woman says, coming to stand beside the young guy. “We have to book those in.”

“I don’t have time, but I have cash.”

Chester pulls a wad of cash from his pocket, and I wonder where the fuck that came from. He must have had it in his car already. The woman takes the money and asks him to follow her.

I might not want to get one, but I’m so excited to tell Jolie that a woman touched Chester’s dick. He must read my thoughts as he turns to me. “Keep your mouth shut. It’s a surprise.”

I shrug. Fine, I will tell her once he “surprises” her with it.

I follow them into a room in the back and stand in the corner quietly. “We recommend doing one at a time. This type of piercing can be extremely painful,” the woman says, snapping on a pair of gloves.

“No, do both now,” he demands. His tone must scare her a little.

“Don’t worry about him. He has an extremely high pain tolerance, and I will get serious enjoyment from seeing him in any kind of pain.”

She nods. Chester gets his pants off, and lucky for him, the clean-up crew didn’t give him new boxers, so he is free as a bird.

“Impressive,” she says, and I laugh.

“Oh, Jolie is going to kill you!” I grin widely at Chester, and he flips me off.

“I take it Jolie is the girlfriend?” the woman asks.

“She sure is, and I will have a ball when she realises a woman touched his dick.”

“You tell her that your lump of meat does nothing for me. I like me a nice plump pussy.”

“Don’t we all,” the guy from the front says, entering the room. His eyes go wide when he looks down at Chester.

“So why the bling?” she asks, cleaning off his cock with something from a spray bottle.

“She just had twins, and I figured with no sex for six weeks, why not give myself a reason I can’t fuck her for that long?”

The chick goes through the usual spiel, saying it can take six months to heal, but we don’t bother explaining to her he will probably be healed within a day or two at most.

I swear I almost pass out after having to witness the whole process. The guy from the front counter must be feeling the same—he takes a lollipop from his pocket and hands it to me. That was a lot, and Chester just sat there like a crazy bastard. I don’t understand why he just randomly thought of doing this, but whatever floats his boat. It’s Chester, so there will be a reason. Maybe Creed isn’t fucking him anymore now that Jolie is back? I don’t have any idea how their dynamic works. We know they have fucked, but they don’t elaborate, and we don’t care to ask. What they do is between them, or it was until Jolie came back. She doesn’t seem to care—she is just pissed they won’t fuck in front of her. It’s like it’s their bro time or some shit.

“What about you, pretty boy? Want to get one while you’re here?” she asks. I wince and cover my junk with my hands.

“No fucking way. Our girl has enough dicks with bling,” I tell her.

“Your girl? Are you in a poly relationship?” the guy asks.

“No, we have the same girlfriend, but it’s what another of her boyfriends calls reverse harem, though it’s more complicated than that.”

“No judgement here, whatever floats your boat. I just hate sharing,” he says.

“Me too,” Chester growls.

“Alright, bling dick, let’s get home to our girl before she sends a search party looking for us.”

Chester pulls up his pants and gets the rundown on how to look after his new jewellery, and then we finally leave the store. I watch how he walks, and with how he’s wincing, he must be in a bit of pain. I don’t say anything because Chester in pain means a huge attitude—I will save that blow up for Boston.

By the time we get back to the house, there are security guards manning the gate, which is never closed, but now it is. Oh, this is going to be fun.

“What the fuck?!” Chester yells as the poor security guard walks over to the car. “Open the fucking gate.”

“Sir, I need to see your ID,” he says.

“No, open the damn gate. I live here,” he snaps.

The man puts his hand on his gun—big mistake. Chester goes to open his door.

“Calm down,” I tell him, grabbing his shoulder.

“I’ll get out of the car and make him fucking open the gate after I cut off his hand. Let’s see how he likes that,” Chester mumbles. I’m surprised the big man is showing so much restraint; his cock must be really fucking hurting for him to not be out of the car already.

“Here,” I tell the guy, pulling my ID from my wallet. He looks at it and nods his head, and after he presses a button, the gates open.

“Fucking Boston,” Chester mumbles under his breath.

I wonder when those two will start to get along. They are always doing shit to piss each other off, and have been since we were kids. I’m just glad the punching has stopped. That seems to have worked itself out or Jolie threatened them to stop. Knowing her, it was a sex ban. I snort at the thought.

Chester parks his car inside the garage, and the automatic doors close behind us.

Not waiting for Chester, I make my way inside and rush up the stairs. Although I hear the guys’ voices downstairs, I need to get changed and see Jolie. I can’t keep blaming myself for letting her go all those years ago. She is here now, and we have our children to take care of—even if it still doesn’t feel real.

Making my way down the hallway, I walk into our bedroom and startle slightly. Jolie is standing beside the bed, and both babies are lying on the mattress in front of her. She somehow knows I’m there and turns to look at me.

“Is everything okay?” she asks.

I walk over to her, and she grabs hold of my hoodie, pulling me closer to her.

“Ziyon is dead, and his body will be here soon.”

Her shoulders drop and relief washes over her. “Thank god we can finally relax. I feel so bad though—since I have been back, both Zacari and Ziyon lost their lives because of me.”

“Don’t. They brought it on themselves. Feel good about our babies being home, and that Chester plans to tell Brennan we are all taking a few weeks off.”

Jolie giggles. “Now that I have to see.”

One of the babies stirs, and Jolie turns back around, but I stay next to her.

“I picked a name,” she whispers, leaning into my side.

“You did?”

She had been asking us for ideas, but none of us thought we should name her first daughter. We wanted to give her that chance. Sure, we did throw out some middle name options, though.

“Zhavia, after my sister. I think it will be a way for me and Melinda to bond, and I think it suits her. She will need a strong name, having so many boys around her.”

“I think so too,” I agree.

“Let’s go downstairs and watch the fun begin. Brennan is going to have a coronary at the thought of not going into work,” she says with a laugh.

She hands me Zhavia, and I cradle her in my arms while Jolie holds Zadom. Having kids wasn’t something I had even considered, but looking over at Jolie and the way her face lights up looking down at our baby boy, she was made for this. She might not see it yet, but I can, and I can’t wait to watch them grow up.

I don’t know if all the obstacles have finished coming our way, but our biggest threats are gone. Whatever we face, we can do it together. So long as Chester doesn’t give Brennan a heart attack tonight, that is.