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Epilogue
Flor
One month later
Hearing the door to our home close I look up and see Frank in his police chief uniform, still so proud of my man and the promotion he got after the last chief, and his son got caught, along with the judge and all his contacts on the force.
After going over all the information with Frank, at first, I thought the chief had had a change of heart. Turns out the other side was just offering him more money, enough to do this one more time and then he could retire, a financial windfall for the ages.
But how can you really retire, hang it up, when each time you do one of these shady deals you already profit immensely, tax-free, in foreign bank accounts from which you issue ATM cards and then spend the money freely, with basically no daily limit as much as you want. Seems Chief Braxton was doing exactly that, building up his perfect life in Orlando so no one in Miami would catch him when he eventually did walk away from his ill-gotten riches. The ones that are all gone now.
Too bad for him he left out the middleman and that’s what brought us to him. Turns out that when you take a better deal and leave your middleman out with no more happy paydays they tend to get angry and want revenge. The Chief never expected his partner on the force to keep records and connect the dots, getting in contact with my dad who turned to my man and brought his whole operation down.
Frank snaps a paper in his hand with a smile on his face. "Won't be living here much longer," he says, moving closer to me before he kisses me on the cheek, then on the lips, and shows me the paper.
It's a bank statement from our joint account, showing a whistleblower bonus of five million dollars even. It was a bit over ten but once the tax man got his share we went from an eight figure payout down to seven. Who's complaining? Certainly not us.
I wrap my arms around him. "Can we live by the water?"
"We can live wherever you want because I just gave my two weeks’ notice today."
I go still, in shock, pulling my body away from him. "Your two weeks’ notice? But you love that job."
"And I love you even more. And I have a plan for our next adventure...together."
"Where?"
"Deep within our imaginations."
I cock an eyebrow, not quite getting it. "You want to do some role-playing, officer?"
"That's chief to you, my little lawbreaker, and yes...but later. What I'm talking about is this."
He digs for his phone and then holds up a picture of a book cover for sale on Amazon.
I look it over but don't get it. "Miami Girl?" I ask, shrugging my shoulders.
"Look at the byline."
I rescan the book cover and see the author’s name. "Flor and Frank Friday."
My mouth immediately pops open and I gasp, looking up at him. "You want to write a book together?"
"I put it on pre-sale. It's due in exactly ten months. We better get busy."
"Oh my God, I love you." I jump into his arms and hug him silly, kissing his face like a woodpecker going at a tree.
"What will it be about?"
"Crime fiction, of course. What we know best."
"You know me and how much I love to read," I say, shaking my head in disbelief at how happy I am.
"And I know you're one smart cookie and it's time you start writing on your own. Me at your side, of course."
"I've got a mystery for you already."
"Yeah?" he quips, putting my feet back down on the ground.
