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Epilogue Decker
“You’re beautiful,” I whisper.
No truer words have been spoken.
Keira is a vision before me in a sleek black dress, her hair loose and draped over her shoulders. She stands in front of her hallway mirror, her lashes dark, her make-up subtle. Everything about her is flawless, especially the way she smiles back at me with understated perfection.
“Thank you.” She turns to me and bridges the space between us, her high heels tapping against the tile. “And you’re utterly handsome.”
Her arms slide under my suit jacket to hug my waist, accidentally bumping the gun lodged in the back of my pants. “Sorry. I’m still getting used to you wearing a weapon.”
It’s her brother’s fault I’ve been unarmed. He demanded I hide my gun at home. To stow my only protection so the two of us could participate in a trivial game of chicken.
It was a power play. A reclaiming of his authority.
He also took away my cell and made two of his thugs shadow me.
And I understood the necessity.
I can also understand why he gave me back my freedom and my right to bear arms this morning.
“It’s okay.” I pull her into me and kiss her forehead. “Are you ready?”
“How can anyone be ready for something like this?”
I don’t know.
Today, she lays her uncle to rest after suffering through days of turmoil pouring her secrets out to her sister. I’ve been with her through it all. I hugged her while her nightmares wreaked havoc and held her hand when she demanded Richard wasn’t worthy of a church service.
There will only be a brief graveside vigil for a man who deserves far less.
I’ve stood by her through everything. I honestly haven’t let this gorgeous woman leave my side. Half the time it’s by choice, the other half is because she doesn’t want to tempt her brother’s itchy trigger finger.
But that fucker won’t kill me. Not anytime soon.
Turns out, he’s wrapped around his little sister’s pinkie tight enough to cut circulation. Behind the charade of animosity, the two of them are thick as thieves. Cole wouldn’t do anything to hurt her. So it all boils down to me treading the straight and narrow to keep this woman happy. Which is far from a hardship.
“Come on, guys,” Sarah calls from the living room. “We’re going to be late.”
Keira stiffens in my arms, her slender body coiled tight.
“Don’t worry.” I grab her hand and entwine our fingers. “Life will get easier after today.”
“Do you really believe that?”
“Yes.” I shoot her a wink. “You know better than to think I’d lie to you.”
She gives a half-hearted chuckle, and I know the apprehension in her features has nothing to do with me. The trust between us is unbreakable. Her fear comes from what she’s about to face.
Not just the burial of her rapist, but the possible appearance of her father.
“We haven’t heard a word from him,” she whispers. “What if he doesn’t show?”
“He will. You’ve said it before, he’s not going to miss his brother’s funeral.”
“That’s what I thought, but now I’m not so sure.”
I squeeze her fingers. “It’s out of our hands. Let Cole deal with it. I’m sure he’s got it under control.”
I lead her along the hall, only to have her pull me to a stop steps later.
“And you’re okay with not being involved?”
“I’m fine.”
“Sebastian,” she warns. “Don’t use that word.”
I chuckle. “Okay, I’m not fine. But I’m dealing with it.”
The intricacies of Cole’s plan aren’t at my disposal. He’s kept the details a tightly held secret. Yet, this morning, he had the decency to tell me I’d have my vengeance before nightfall. That his father would be dead if today worked in our favor.
It was a murmured promise from my woman’s brother.
A barely civil vow from the son of my sister’s murderer.
It’s all I have, and more than I need.
“Come on. If we don’t get moving, we’re going to miss the funeral.”
The ride to the cemetery is done in silence. Hunter drives, I ride shotgun, while Sarah and Keira sit in the back.
Expensive sports cars and luxurious SUVs are lined up bumper to bumper along the narrow cemetery street. We park at the front, claiming our reserved space as a member of the notorious crime family.
“There are more people than I expected.” Sarah unfastens her belt and scoots forward to peer through the windshield. “A lot of cars means a lot of witnesses.”
Hunter cuts the ignition and scopes the growing crowd. “Torian isn’t going to make a move at the funeral.”
“You know what’s going down?” I shoot him a questioning glance, which is quickly deflected with a look of caution.
“Everything will be handled after we leave the cemetery.” Hunt opens his door and Sarah follows, both of them keeping their distance from Torian and Layla, who wait beneath a portable gazebo, Luca and Layla’s husband standing one step behind.
I remain in place, not moving until Keira’s ready.
“He’s not here,” she murmurs. “I can’t see him anywhere. What happens if he doesn’t show?”
“That’s out of our hands. We’ve both known that for days.”
She winces, her disappointment killing me. “You don’t regret giving up on retaliation?”
“Not at all. That shit was tearing me apart. Besides, I got the better end of the deal when I walked away with you.”
She sighs and rests her head against the window as she stares across at the gravesite. “It looks like they’re ready to start.”
I nod. “Yeah, the evil glare your brother is giving me is a great indication.”
Her halfhearted chuckle fills the car. It’s all the reward I need.
It’s all I’ll ever want.
She sucks in a deep breath and releases it slowly. “Let’s do this.”
She shoves open her door, and I rush from the car to meet her.
We walk hand in hand to the crowd that parts as we approach.
“I don’t know half these people,” she murmurs. “How could they all have cared about Richard?”
“I don’t know. Business associates, I guess. Try not to think about it.”
“Business associates would make it worse.”
She’s right. But as always, I’m not the best at comfort. Not in situations like this.
It’s hard enough dealing with the constant prickle of the hair at the back of my neck. The vibe here feels wrong.
She pulls us to a stop at the front of the crowd, next to Hunter and Sarah, our position opposite the gazebo. It’s her choice not to stand near her brother and sister, and I get it. She needs to do this on her own.
Her grief is far different than theirs.
The officiant steps forward, opens a thick, leather-bound book, and begins the proceedings.
I don’t listen to a word he says. I’m too busy fighting disappointment.
I honestly didn’t think Luther would miss his own brother’s funeral. Keira had convinced me he would attend, despite all obstacles, in the face of all adversity.
Even though I’ve come to terms with being stripped of any role in his demise, the thought of him not being punished sits like a lead balloon.
But he’s not here.
Torian’s pinched face says he’s not coming, either. And he’d know.
He has airport staff in his pocket. Cops on the payroll. His own men on the streets. If he hasn’t heard anything by now, he never will.
I lower my gaze to the grass around my shoes and take solace in having Keira by my side.
She’s the prize despite the losing hand. The peace to soothe the torment.
She reaches out, as if hearing my thoughts, and grabs the crook of my arm. Her fingers dig deep. Tighter and tighter, to the point of pain.