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He hums in agreement. “Well, it’ll be more satisfying to see him taken down. Any assault charges from you would mess with whatever suit we decide to bring.”
I know that too.
“Listen,” Lock says, dropping his hand on my shoulders. “Gwen is always so worried about Quinn, and hell, your dads and I were too. She has been so sad these last few years, but seeing her tonight, surrounded by you guys and the way she practically glowed, I speak for all of us when I say we’re happy for you.”
Studying his face, I nod and blow out a harsh breath. “I was ready to fight for her.”
“I know.” His fingers tighten on my shoulder. “And we’d do the same for Gwen... We would’ve done the same for your mom.” He swallows and looks away. “Life doesn’t always turn out how you think, but I hope you’re finding a way to enjoy the ride.”
They’ve been worried about me too. Lock doesn’t say it directly, but there’s a deeper meaning to his words. Enjoy the ride. Let go of control. Take what comes and make the most of it.
“I’m working on it,” I say with a nod.
He removes his hand and rubs his jaw. “Good, that’s good, son. When is your condo done?”
“They’re wrapping things up this week, actually.”
“Well, then, I’m going to ask you to stop having sex in our house.” He wrinkles his nose.
Chuckling to myself, I say, “I think we can manage that.”
“Oh,” he says with a grimace. “I need you to go through the security footage and erase...whatever is on there. I don’t need Gwen stumbling across whatever happened while we were gone.”
“Right.” I wince. “I’ll deal with that tonight.”
“Good, good. Okay, well, let’s go join the family, yeah?”
Family. It’s different than I thought it would be, but that’s what we are. A little complicated, maybe different from the norm, but we’re happy. And that’s what matters most.
Fifty-Five
TWO WEEKS LATER
QUINN
My phone buzzes on the dresser. I’m unpacking the last box of my stuff while I wait for Daria to get here, and I assume it’s her. I put the box aside, catching a fresh wave of honey and musk. Smiling at my scent, no longer afraid of it and everything it means, I grab the device.
Austin’s name flashes across the screen.
“Hey, Chef.”
“Hey, baby.” I can practically hear the smile in his words. “Turn on the news.”
“Is it happening?”
“Yup.”
Squealing, I rush into the living room, switch on the TV, and flip to the local channel. Live footage shows Mosley being led out of his house in handcuffs. He’s shouting about wanting a lawyer and thrashing in the cop’s arms.
“How many clients did you steal from?” the reporter asks.
“Fuck you,” Mosley spits, gray hair a mess atop his head and face tomato red with rage.
“Was your pack in on your crimes?” The camera swings to his pack mates.
I feel bad for them if they weren’t involved, but surely, they had to have known something was up. Partners at CPA firms make a lot of money, but notthatmuch money.
“Are you seeing it?”
