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“Alejandro Garcia is still going to have some jurisdiction in Waco through the Jackals. They’ll take the East side. We’ll take the North side. Garcia will branch out east toward Louisiana when he wants to expand. Sanchez will branch out north toward Idaho.”
“Divide and conquer, eh?” I asked.
“Criminals gotta eat too, babe.”
I huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, I guess they do.” I paused. “You think Alejandro and the Jackals will keep their end of the bargain?”
“I don’t know. I guess time will tell.”
“What about the bloodshed? Waco’s seen enough, don’t you think?”
“We stay on our side, they stay on theirs. I’ve talked to Franco. He’s assured me that Sanchez doesn’t want to see the loss of innocent lives. Can’t say the same for Garcia.”
I traced the warm skin that peeked out from the collar of his T-shirt. I couldn’t worry about that now. There would always be unknowns. Danger would continue to lurk around the corner. I was an MC president’s Old Lady. It came with the territory.
I didn’t ask if he got to be the one to pull the trigger, or if he was just there to watch Dev’s life come to an end. Not that Colt would tell me, anyway. And it had nothing to do with the fact that we weren’t married and I wasn’t protected under spousal privilege. He wouldn’t want it to weigh on me.
“Were you mad when you found out I’d left?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you still mad?”
“I don’t think so.”
“No?”
I tilted my chin up to look at him. “Thank you. For making sure it’s truly over. Thank you for being there for me.”
His gaze softened. “You’re welcome.”
I rested my head against his chest and snuggled up against him.
“Mia?”
“Yeah?”
“Marry me.”
Epilogue
One year later…
“Silas,”I said into the phone. “Silas, take a breath.”
“Sorry,” he said. “I’m just excited. You and Colt will be back in time, right?”
“Yeah, honey.” I looked at my husband, who was naked from the chest up and slowly undoing the button of his jeans, a wicked glint in his eye.
“We’ll be home. First place in the science fair. Like we’d miss watching you get that big blue ribbon. I’m proud of you, Silas.”
“Thanks,” he said. “It was all because of Ramsey. He helped me.”
“You should call and tell him you appreciated his help.” I grinned at his enthusiasm, even though I wasn’t terribly excited that Ramsey Buchanan had taught my son how to rig delayed timers for bombs and disguised them as heat lamp timers for chicken coops in an agricultural setting. Hopefully winning first place at the science fair meant that Silas was on a solid, academic path instead of a criminal one.
“Where are you guys now?” Silas asked.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Colt strip off his jeans, quickly followed by his boxers. He gave himself a few pumps and leered at me.
