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TWENTY-EIGHT
Several months later
Decima
I steppedout of my car, palming the keys as I looked over the estate that the guys and I had gradually been making our own. Renovating the Blood Hunter’s primary residence had been one of our first orders of business once we’d realized that we suddenly had a perfect replacement for the old apartment, one with plenty of space for us to sprawl out in.
The property stood alone on a small hill on the outskirts of DC, a perfect vantage point for the many security guards we now had patrolling the outer walls on a regular basis. The house itself looked oddly modest on the outside, flat stucco with plain windows and trim. But inside it was an immense modern oasis. Light poured through those windows, and air circulated through the space when they were open to the breeze like they were on this warm spring afternoon.
And there were so many rooms. We each had our own bedroom alongside a few extra guest rooms, even though I often ended up sharing with one or more of the men any given night. Garrison had claimed a small study with bay windows for his telescope and all the “souvenirs” he liked to collect from his jobs. We had a room just for weapons storage, and to Talon’s contentment, we’d knocked down a wall to transform two rooms into a single, large workout room. Naturally, Blaze had his own office, stuffed with all the technology he could ever hope to use.
It felt strange being able to drive up and walk straight to the front door after weeks of sneaking in and out of the penthouse, but we had a reputation that protected us from minor players now and the resources to ensure no major player could get close.
I stepped inside onto the hardwood floor we’d put down in place of the tiles that had once covered every inch of flooring. Now ceramics were restricted to the basement, the kitchen, and the bathrooms—all five of them, which I appreciated quite a bit when it meant I never had to wait for any of my men to get a move on. We’d repainted too, taking this broad entryway from dark red to a welcoming yellow. We didn’t want the hue of blood reminding us of who had owned this house before us.
Technically,Iwas the Blood Hunter now. That was the name the members of the Devil’s Dozen called me by when I attended their monthly meetings, though I suspected most if not all of them were aware of my real name. The new employees called me “boss,” which I found much more comfortable.
One of my first orders of business once I’d taken on that role was to remove the last trace of the former Blood Hunter’s ownership over me. The hair at the nape of my neck was still growing back from where I’d had to shave a chunk to allow the laser technicians access. Nothing was left of the tattoo except a faint smudge of a scar which you couldn’t see at all through my hair.
I could tell Steffie had been by the house this morning from the fresh flowers in the vase on the hall’s side table. We’d set her up with a new residence of her own, a townhouse she’d picked out in the city proper where she could continue being an extra pair of eyes and ears for the Chaos Crew, as well as her periodic cleaning and cooking duties.
I drank in the softly sweet scent of the flowers and smiled. The place was finally starting to feel likehome.
Cocking my head, I made out voices from the kitchen, so I strode toward the noise. It sounded like Blaze and Garrison were bickering in their usual way, debating the merits of fresh vs. dry pasta, of all things.
“If you keep going on about it, I’ll stuff a bunch of that pasta down your throats so you can analyze it up close and personal,” Julius said dryly as I stepped into the gleaming space, which was all mottled gray-and-white surfaces and stainless steel. The crew’s commander glanced over at my entrance and stepped to my side to slip an arm around me and steal an emphatic kiss. “There’s our woman. How’s Brittany?”
The other three guys—Blaze and Garrison braced by the kitchen island, Talon sitting at the table in the side nook cleaning a gun—looked over at me to hear my answer. I’d been making regular visits to check on the former Blood Hunter’s adoptive daughter in her new home ever since we’d placed her there, to make sure everything was going well with her new family.
“She still seems happy,” I said. “She was chattering away even more than before—no sign that anything’s weighing on her now. And it’s obvious how supportive Linnaeus and Carla are. They’ve been keeping up the family therapy sessions to help her adjust. I don’t think we could have found better parents for her.”
“Good,” Julius said, and Blaze and Garrison shared a grin of matching relief. Finding her new home had mostly been their responsibility, after all.
One of the many bedrooms here had once been Brittany’s. I’d debated what to do with the surprisingly sparse selection of clothes and toys it’d held, and in the end we’d donated them to a women’s shelter. I hadn’t wanted her bringing anything into her new life that would remind her of the Blood Hunter’s influence. I’d set up a trust fund with some of the money so she’d be set for college and plenty more when she turned eighteen, but she wouldn’t find out about it until it was necessary.
I wandered over to Talon and slung my arm across his shoulders, drawing a small smile to his lips. The feel of his well-muscled frame and his musky scent gave me a familiar zing right to my core.
“Need any help?” I asked playfully, reaching for a piece of the rifle he’d already taken apart.
“Have at it.” He handed me the small bottle of CLP, and I poured a liberal amount onto the exterior of the weapon. I scanned for any rust, but Talon took good care of his weapons. A microfiber cloth was sufficient for coating the exterior. I wiped it down and handed it to Talon. He began reassembling the parts.
Seeing him back in his element—cleaning guns and preparing for future jobs—sent a different sort of electricity through me. A lot might have changed, but these were still the men I’d fallen for. And you wouldn’t have known it to look at him or Julius that they’d been on death’s door less than a year ago. Each time I saw them going about their usual routines, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of utter gratitude for how our situation had turned out. It could have been so much worse.
“Is Carter coming for dinner tonight?” Blaze asked, looking down at his phone. “Steffie popped out to do some grocery shopping before she gets down to cooking, and she wants to know how much food to bring back.”
I shook my head. “He’s extra busy studying for exams this week. He said he was looking forward to taking a break and stopping by on the weekend.”
Julius chuckled. “After the way he was talking when he first bought into the Chaos Crew way, I’m surprised he went back to the legal methods of obtaining justice.”
I grinned. “He is bringing a unique perspective to those methods now. And I think he’s still hoping he can convince us to take on some side cases with him as a sort of hobby.”
Carter had entered the criminology program he’d already been accepted into before our lives had collided, studying the legal strategies for identifying and cracking down on criminal behavior. He’d lived in the house with us for a couple of months, but it’d become more obvious with each passing day that he was shedding the Malik family legacy completely and becoming his own man. He’d ended up finding an apartment closer to the school so he didn’t have to make the long commute every day, but he came by to visit regularly.
“As long as the kid doesn’t turn on us, he can do whatever he wants,” Talon remarked.
“I’m still not sure he isn’t going to turnintoone of us,” I said.
Garrison set the kettle on the stove and turned on the burner. “What flavor today, boss?” he said in a teasing tone. After hearing the security staff refer to me that way, he’d taken to using it jokingly when he wanted to rib me.
