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T he judge's face looks like Saint’s that time Trip dared him to bite into a lemon.

“You mean to tell me that these men have been in Maximum-Security lock-up for well over a week, going on two, and have yet to appear in my court?”

“Yes, Your Honor. Their paperwork was…misplaced, and they slipped through the cracks.”

Judge Dickinson’s expression becomes even more dour. “That is the most pitiful excuse I’ve ever heard in my life, Counselor. Especially now that you’re here in my courtroom—at the eleventh hour, I might add—telling me that new evidence suggests these men are not, in fact, linked to the Avenging Angel like initially believed.” He shakes his head. “Not a good look for the district attorney’s office, Mr. Samuels. I’m highly disappointed.”

Saint and Trip are cuffed on the bench beside me, with a guard on each end, the three of us witnessing the chastising of the city’s most popular district attorney in Deadwood Peak history. It’s too early to say whether he’s involved in Colt’s grand plan, but you better fucking believe we’ll be looking into it.

Owen is at the table in front of us, with the district attorney sweating bullets at the next table over. Can’t say I blame him. Judge Dickinson is a mean old coot known for taking no shit. Last time I saw him, I was seventeen and had gotten caught on a drug run with my father. Even then, Dickinson was wrinkled and gray. He gave me a tongue lashing I’ll never forget. It was the start of us turning the club around.

“I want to apologize to the court for my office’s mishandling of Mr. Masterson’s, Mr. Hart’s, and Mr. Barlowe’s cases, Your Honor. I take full responsibility and will personally oversee a review of the procedural processes that allowed this to happen.”

The old man grunts and flips a few papers on his desk before looking up at Owen.

“Mr. Wallace, all of this is well outside the norm for the judicial process in this county, and I would like to personally apologize for the absolute fumbling of this case from the very beginning by multiple agencies that are usually above reproach. The evidence presented by the district attorney not only confirms, without a shadow of a doubt, your clients’ version of events on the evening in question, but also further illustrates the depths that this person will go to in order to lead law enforcement on a ludicrous goose chase. The police department finally had a chance to gain new evidence that could have led them to a suspect in the Avenging Angel killings that have been plaguing this area for years, and sadly they bungled the whole thing. Therefore, after reviewing the aforementioned evidence, it is my ruling to expedite the release of your clients, effective immediately.”

Owen nods stoically. “We appreciate that, Your Honor. On behalf of my clients, I want to thank you for your willingness to hear this urgent case after what I’m sure was already a long, trying day.”

The judge shoots another nasty look at the district attorney. “I truly hope you get a handle on the malpractice of your office, Mr. Samuels, so that a case such as this does not cross my desk again. I might not be so lenient with you next time around.” Picking up the wooden gavel, he bangs it against his desk. “Court is adjourned.”

Owen turns, his briefcase already in hand. “We’ll be waiting outside the jail. It shouldn’t be more than a couple of hours to get you through the release process.”

“Thank you, Owen.”

He nods in reply, a small smirk appearing on his face. “It’s not me you have to thank.”

He’s right. This has my wife’s name written all over it, and I can’t wait to thank her properly.

The guards lead the three of us out of the courtroom. We’re silent the entire way back to lock-up and through the tedious hours that follow. None of us want to even remotely risk saying or doing anything that could jeopardize our pending release.

Almost two hours later, we finally step foot outside the glass doors of the county jail. The fresh night air fills my lungs, and it’s like I can suddenly think straight again, knowing I’ll finally get to hold Remy in my arms.

“Fuck. I never thought I’d say this, but the scent of the Arizona dirt might be my second favorite smell.”

I glance behind me, finding Saint with his head back and eyes closed as he takes a couple of deep breaths in and slowly exhales.

“I hear that, brother. Only the smell of our woman beats it.”

A wide smile curves his lips. “Which smell? I can think of at least one I prefer.”

“Let me guess,” Rogue murmurs. “Her arousal?”

Saint opens his eyes. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Rogue’s beard shifts in the dim light, but I don’t need to see it to know he’s grinning. “Nope.”

“You fools gonna stand there and gossip all night, or are you gonna get your asses moving so we can get the hell out of here?”

My eyes meet Trip’s across the parking lot. Squire steps up beside him, and my nerves instantly skyrocket.

“Who the fuck is with Remy?” I growl. I’m being slightly irrational, I know, but considering the shit storm we’ve found ourselves in, I don’t think the question is completely unwarranted.

Owen laughs, but wisely doesn’t say shit.

“Glad to know you think so highly of us, Prez,” Trip mutters, but I see the amusement in his eyes.

“Trip, so help me god, I am tired and on the edge of sanity. Don’t fuck around right now. Just answer the question.”

His sigh is loud and exaggerated. “Right now?” He glances at Squire, then back at me with a shrug. “No one.”

Rogue’s growl cuts through the night’s stillness.

“She’s asleep in the backseat,” Squire hurriedly replies, nudging Trip with his elbow. “Be nice. They look like death warmed over.”

“Fuckers,” Saint mutters.

I don’t waste any time. Stalking past the assholes who seem to have so easily forgotten what it’s like to not have constant access to our girl, I peer into the Denali’s interior. Remy’s leaning up against the window in the third row seat with a jacket covering her like a blanket.

“Fuck. Is she okay?” I whisper, not wanting to wake her.

“Yeah.” Squire appears at my side. “She hasn’t been sleeping more than a couple hours a night. I think knowing we were coming to pick you all up settled her and her body finally gave in.”

Maneuvering my body into the space next to her, I brush a stray hair off her cheek. She’s so damn soft like this, which has every protective instinct within me rushing to the forefront. She murmurs something unintelligible, then shifts in the seat until she’s curled up against me.

This. Right here. My entire world wrapped up in a five-foot-four package that’s deadlier than most of the men I know.

Fuck, I needed this.

I gently kiss her forehead. “Get the others. We need to get her home, so she can get some real rest.”

Squire calls out to the guys then climbs into the middle row. “We haven’t been back to the new house since we got out. Our current base of operations is Charlie’s. She’s got a killer security system—no pun intended—so we should be safe there for a while.”

I can’t fucking believe we handed Colt access to our new home. Looking back now, Rogue was right to be wary. Unfortunately, hindsight doesn’t do any of us a damn bit of good.

Saint shifts in the middle row. His arm slides along the top of the seat, his eyes drinking up the sight of our woman like he’s dying of thirst and she’s the only thing that can quench it.

“Jesus fuck, man. Not a whole lotta room here,” Trip mutters.

Saint grins. “Gonna be a whole lot less room in bed tonight too, cuz ain’t no way the three of us are leaving her side.”

“What he said,” Rogue calls out from the front seat.

Trip groans. “Why’d we have to pick them up again?”

“Because Remy would slice our balls off if we didn’t?” Squire replies, and all of us wince at the graphic image.

“ Right . Right. Got it.” Trip chuckles. “But seriously. It’s good to have you guys back. It’s been quiet, but we all know that shit isn’t going to last long. Power in numbers, ya know?”

And that’s just what I’m afraid of. What’s going to happen now that Colt knows we’re all back together again? Is he going to come at us that much harder?

Brushing my lips against the top of Remy’s head, I attempt to box up the chaotic thoughts rushing through my mind. For now, all I want is to soak up the peace currently residing within me while I can. My brothers talk softly while I half-listen. Instead, I focus on every breath Remy takes and the slight hint of vanilla that happens to be my favorite smell.

Before I know it, we’re pulling up to a sprawling Spanish Colonial ranch. I’m not sure what I expected, but it wasn’t this serene setting or the warm, welcoming home.

“Damn. Aunt Charlie must be loaded,” Saint murmurs, scoping out our temporary digs.

“Rock bought this for her when she left the club, but she’s also a well-respected doctor and head of the Obstetrics Department, which means she’s done pretty well for herself.”

“You really think we’re safe here?” I ask softly, glancing down at the sleeping woman in my arms.

“I’m not sure you’d find a safer place in all of Deadwood Peak,” Owen chimes in from the driver seat. “Charlize might not be a Sinner anymore, but that doesn’t mean she’s forgotten where she came from. I wouldn’t want to cross her.”

Our eyes meet in the rearview mirror, and I give him a small nod. I don’t trust easily, but Owen has earned my respect and gratitude for all he’s done for us. It’s easy to see why Remy chose him to join this crusade. I just have to hope he doesn’t end up another casualty of our war.

Parking in front of the garage, he and the others all file out. I’m stuck in a moment of indecision. I want to get the hell out of this cramped space and take a nice long shower, but I also don’t want to wake the woman peacefully resting at my side. Trip makes the decision for me, hitting the button on the middle seat so it slides forward. With a sigh, I slide my hands under my wife, cradling her to me like the precious cargo she is, and maneuver us both out through the small space.

“Ace?”

Her voice is raspy from sleep, but hearing my name from her lips is almost more than I can handle.

“Shh. I’m here and we’re home. You can sleep. I’ve got you.”

Her eyes slowly open and slide up my face until she’s staring up at me. “I missed you, husband.”

My heart pounds in my chest at the vulnerability shining back at me. It’s such a rare sight, it almost takes my breath away.

“I missed you too, doll.”

My mouth drops to hers, a soft hum slipping from her lips. The kiss is tender and sweet, speaking all the words neither of us wants to pause to say. I don’t even realize I’ve come to a stop in the middle of the driveway, nor do I care about the introductions being made somewhere nearby. All I can focus on is the feel of the woman in my arms and the way she makes me forget everything around me.

When she finally pulls back, her lips pink and a little swollen, I have to tamp down the urge to drag her mouth back to mine.

“The others?” She yawns widely.

“We’re here, Angel.” Saint steps up to us, his hand sliding along her jaw to cradle her head. “Fuck, it’s good to touch you.”

He leans in, kissing her like a man obsessed.

When we talked about sharing a woman in our teens, there’s no way we could’ve known it would be like this . My brother’s obvious desire fuels my own as I watch the woman I love kiss him the way she kisses me. There’s no jealousy or hurt feelings. No. There’s only love and trust and a sense of wholeness that feels so fucking right there are no words to describe it.

“My turn,” Rogue mutters, impatiently nudging Saint out of the way.

Saint curses, stumbling back a step. “Fucking impatient dick.”

Rogue ignores him, taking the opportunity to kiss Remy himself.

Saint’s eyes catch mine above them. “Like he couldn’t have waited a few more seconds.”

Remy laughs against Rogue’s mouth. “You would’ve done the same thing. Don’t even lie.”

“Of course I would have. That’s not the point.”

Rogue smirks as he finally steps back.

Saint rolls his eyes. “You’re lucky you’re so damn big. Otherwise, I’d totally make you eat that fucking smug expression on your face.”

Rogue just crosses his arms over his chest with one eyebrow raised.

Ignoring them, I glance down at Remy who yawns again. “I should probably go introduce myself to Aunt Charlie.”

“I think you’re gonna like her because she’s a lot like me…just less stabby.”

For the first time in days, I smile. “Your stabbiness has grown on me.”

A sleepy grin spreads across her face. “Awww. Don’t make me blush.”

“That’s on the agenda for later. Right now, I’m putting you to bed.”

She sighs. “Yes, sir.”

My growl is low and deep. “I fucking love you, Remington Masterson.”

“And I love you, Beck Masterson.”

With restraint I didn’t even realize I possessed, I step over to the woman who is watching us with this wistful expression softening her face.

“You must be Aunt Charlie.”

I don’t offer my hand because both are in use, and I can’t find it in me to let go of my wife for even a millisecond.

“And you must be Ace. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I’ve heard all good things.”

My heart swells when I glance down and catch the content smile on Remy’s lips as she leans her head against my shoulder. “I just want to thank you for taking such good care of Remy. The last couple of weeks have been hard, but it helped knowing she had you.”

“She’ll always have me. That applies to all of you, too, for the record.”

We share a look loaded with the unspoken thoughts of what the future may hold. With everything so uncertain, it’s good to know there are people who we can trust, that have our back no matter what happens. Because hell is coming for us. We’ll have to fight the Devil himself and pray we’re strong enough to beat him.