by Keri Lake
“I could listen to that sound over and over again,” he said, banding his arm across my breasts. “Let’s get some rest first, though.”
I gave a nod and he set the showerhead back, flipping off the water, and after nabbing a towel from outside the stall, he wrapped me and carried me to the bed. I felt small and fragile in his arms, as he set me down on the mattress and slipped beneath the covers behind me.
Everything felt perfect—too perfect. So perfect, my head couldn’t accept that it belonged to me. Nothing good had ever lasted long in my life, and with my newfound happiness and love came an impending fear of watching it all crash around me.
“What are you thinking about?”
I stared out the window across from me, at the moon as its dark sliver mocked my thoughts. “You know I …. There’re going to bad days, Dax. Dark ones.” Blinking failed to hold back the tears those thoughts brought to my eyes. “They’ll come out of nowhere, and they’ll mess with my head. They always do.”
“I ever tell you about the time I went through detox?” His question was so out of nowhere, once again distracting my mind.
“No.”
“Was bad. Had to have a sitter, so they sent this old guy in. Rudy, was his name. Volunteer. Old Vietnam vet, tattooed and scarred.” Rolling onto his back, he kept me tucked within one arm and folded the other beneath his head. “So there I was, strapped to this bed, miserable as fuck, and this chatty bastard is telling me his life story. Like how he met his wife, but then got drafted into the war. How he came home to a new daughter, who died of some heart condition a couple years later. His wife got pregnant again, a boy that time, named him Rudy number two, but his wife found out she had cancer halfway into the pregnancy.” As he spoke, I lay there wondering what the hell his story had to do with my comments a moment ago, but I listened as he kept on with it. “She beat it, delivered his son, who I guess went on to become some world renowned cancer doc. Then both his wife and son ended up dying in a car crash.” With a sigh, he shook his head. “Guy’s life was a fucking roller coaster, up and down, and up and down. So I asked him how the hell he coped with it. He said, Son, with every high, there’s a low to keep you humble and remind you of all the good shit in life.” With light caresses to my arm, he kissed my forehead. “I want the high’s and the low’s with you. Beautiful and the ugly parts, too. The turbulence and the calm. I want all of you.”
With a smile, I ran my hand over his chest, taking in the light tickle of hair beneath my palm. “I want all of you, too. But just so we’re clear? My ugly parts might make you change your mind about that.”
He chuckled and pulled me tighter into his chest. “Baby, I’ve seen every inch of you, and ain’t nothing ugly about it.”
Face pressed into the crook of his arm, I smiled. “I’ve got an ugly temper.”
“Alright, I’ll give you that.”
I playfully punched him in the ribs.
He grunted and curled into his side, and I stole the opportunity to crawl over top of him, feeling his hands grip the back of my thighs. “My ass is going to land in another support group by the end of the week, if I’m not careful.”
“Why? Because I’ll drive you to drink?” I grinned against his lips, threading my fingers through his hair. “Or to take those green pills in the bathroom?”
“No, because I’m hard again.” The prodding of his groin proved his point. “You’ve got me fiending like some sorry ass junkie.”
“Rudy said you have to savor the lows to appreciate the good shit, remember?”
“Rudy’s never had his face between your thighs.” He lifted his head and kissed along my jawline. “It’s a tough road to recovery, sweetheart.”
I giggled as his stubble brushed across the sensitive skin at the crook of my neck. “Sounds like an addiction you need to kick before it messes you up.”
He fell back onto the pillow, staring up at me again with those warm brown eyes. “Nah. I like this high. Feels good.”
“Feels good to me, too.”
Epilogue
One year later …
I stood biting the shit out my nails, like a teenager on the first day of high school. I never bit my nails, but I had to bite something, because I was about to become a dad, and nothing scared me more than the thought of being responsible for a small human being.
The woman sitting across from me had strands of hair sticking out of her loose bun, and wore a corduroy jacket over a messy blouse. She handed me a pen and pointed to the line that would turn me into a parent. “Sign here.”
I signed my name beside Eden’s, taking note again of how perfectly her name paired with mine. Eden Wolfe. Sounded like something out of a fairytale. Only, in our version, she was the badass girl in the dark forest who tamed the big wayward wolf.
The second I pushed the paper back toward the heavyset woman, I felt Eden’s hand on my thigh. In an effort to calm my nerves, I lifted her hand and kissed the back of her hand, hoping she didn’t pick up on my breaths stuttering out of control against her skin.
While the woman looked everything over, I studied the tattoo on Eden’s wrist that Rhys had inked of a nautical star, and I rubbed my thumb over the words below it that read, Hold Fast. He’d also covered up the circle seven tattoo on my forearm with an elaborate compass set against a map, Eden’s amber eyes staring out from its center. A reminder that I wasn’t alone.
“Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Wolfe. Welcome to parenthood.”
That only made my heart beat faster, and I looked to Eden for some measure of doubt, but she didn’t show a trace of it on her face.
Why should she?
We’d moved into a nice place on the west side—four-bedroom house with more room than we’d ever need. Our wedding hadn’t been anything big, just a small Justice of the Peace ceremony, with Jase and Lucy as our witnesses. I’d proposed on the roof of Book Tower after watching another sunset, and we’d spent our honeymoon in the Caribbean, soaking up the sun and fucking like rabbits. Our life was everything we’d dreamed it would be, and yet still felt like something had been left unfinished.
That something turned out to be the kids we’d left homeless.
It was Eden’s idea to adopt the siblings, who’d apparently been bounced around in foster care, so I got in touch with Gina, who put in a good word with the court. Soon after that, we’d filed a petition through a lawyer and got the process going. It’d be another few months before we’d be official parents, all dependent on how the kids would adjust to their new life, but they’d be placed in our care until then.
Gina opened the door to where Daniel and Larissa stood in the hallway. They looked cleaner than last time I’d seen them, bathed, at least, and wore clothes that seemed to be their size. The shyness in their eyes told me they hadn’t forgotten me, but maybe didn’t trust me, either.
I knelt down in front of Daniel, my mind spinning over what to the hell to say to him. “Hey, buddy. I, um …. I was …. I mean, we’re …” The words escaped me, and when I looked up at Larissa, who wouldn’t even look at me, I still couldn’t seem to formulate a proper sentence. Like my tongue had been severed, or some shit, which was weird. Should’ve been easy for me, having grown up on the streets most of my life, without a family, or a good home. There should’ve been some kindred connection between the three of us, but even if Kenny was a fucking scumbag piece of shit, the fact was, I’d killed the kids father and lied to them. I’d thrown them into the same system that’d failed me as a kid.
Taking them in was my penance. The right thing to do.
“Are you gonna be my dad?” Daniel stared down at his clasped hands, his pudgy little fingers fidgeting.
“If … if you want that. Yeah, we’d very much like for you to come live with us. If you want that.”
In my periphery, Eden knelt beside me and reached out for Larissa’s hand.
The girl swatted her away and hid her hand behind her back. The sharp angle of her brows told me a world of pain and a
nger was trapped inside her small, skinny frame. Couldn’t tell if it was her dad, or me, she hated more. I supposed only time would reveal that.
“Larissa, I want you to know … no one’s ever going to hurt you again.” Eden tipped her head, her eyes sympathetic, but sincere. “I promise you that.”
Larissa’s gaze lifted to Eden’s, tears brimming over the bright blue. “No more spankings?”
Eden shook her head. “Never.”
“No more closet time in da scawee basement?” Daniel asked, and the way he tugged at his ear, brows upturned, told me some bad stuff had happened in that basement.
Eden brushed Daniel’s overgrown bangs out of his eyes and cupped his face. “I promise you. No basement.”
“Will you … keep us?” Larissa’s voice wobbled, her question bringing tears to my eyes at the thought of how many times I’d prayed for some kind of permanence as a kid.
“We’d like to, very much.” Eden’s voice, also tinged with tears, carried a promise of hope and happiness and all the things we had planned for the years ahead.
We’d both agreed to give the two of them the kind of life they’d only dreamed about—a normal life where pain and abuse were just stories on the news, shit that happened to someone else.
“Will you come home with us?” Eden reached out her hand again, her lips stretching to a tearful smile as she waited.
Seemed like minutes passed in the span of only a few seconds, and damn my heart, beating against my ribs like the bastard wanted out.
Larissa looked down at her brother, and I caught her small fingers hooking into his, before she reached back to Eden’s outstretched hand.
My muscles sagged with relief, and I expelled a held breath. It’d be a long road ahead, with craggy rocks and bumps, and hills, so many fucking hills, it’d probably make my stomach twist. But we’d keep going, because just like Rudy had said, the highs and lows made up the good shit in life.
I felt Eden’s other hand slide into mine and give a squeeze.
And just like that, we were a family.
I hope you’ve enjoyed the Vigilantes series! If you’d like to keep up to date on what’s next, be sure to check out my social media links and reading group on the About The Author page.
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Acknowledgments
Having reached the final book of a series, I can tell you, there are so many people who play an important part along the way, that it’s extremely difficult to include every one in a single acknowledgment, without it turning into its own novel. Readers, editors, betas, designers, bloggers, author buds, models, friends and family … so many have helped make this an incredible journey for me and I’m grateful to every single person. That said I’m going try to thank as many as I can and hope I don’t forget anyone.
Infinite thanks my husband and daughters, who give me a reason to get up every morning, to be bold and fearless in my pursuits, and to seize every moment—I love you infinity.
To my mom and dad for inspiring me to follow my passions in life and never give up, and my siblings for believing in me, while always having my back. I love you all.
Endless thanks to my editor and friend, Julie Belfield, who has worked with me since the very first story I published on Scribophile, when she critiqued the hell out of my words. I knew she was a unicorn back then, and she continues to be to this day, always taking great care to make sure my words shine. Thank you for everything, JAB.
This year was a bit of a challenge as I dove into new projects with crazy deadlines, and I couldn’t have done it without the much-appreciated assistance of Diane Dykes. At one of my signings this year, I had the absolute pleasure of getting to hang out with her, and not only is she so much fun to be around, but she’s sweet and supportive and has fantastic taste in wine. Thank you for all you do, Diane!
Many, many thanks to Lana of Dirty Girl Romance Book Blog for always being the first to dive into these stories without fear or hesitation. If my manuscripts are a warzone (and they are) then Lana is the infantry—specifically, the one in front—who has to face off with my occasional shitty grammar and underdeveloped plots. She’s beta read every book in the series, offering up invaluable feedback, and each one has turned out better for it.
Alongside Lana, is another incredibly brave soul, Terri Rochenski, who’s basically my sniper beta. I don’t know how the hell this woman catches the things she does, like small details that don’t coincide with other small details a hundred pages back, but I’m so grateful to have her. I wish I knew what mystical potion she slips into her coffee every morning, because it works—my books have significantly fewer errors, thanks to her.
Enormous thanks to my ingenious designer, Hang Le, who along with super-talented photographer Eric Battershell, created a magical cover that made it nearly impossible having to wait almost a year for the reveal.
Special thanks to cover model, Matthew Pappadia, who precisely captured my broody, troubled vigilante in a sexy and captivating way. I love this cover so much!
To my author friends—thank you for reaching out and making me feel at home in this little writing community, made up of so many insanely talented individuals.
To my Vigilante Vixens … let me just say, I could not write these books without you. Thank you for giving me a small piece of the internet where I feel happy, and for always being there to lift me up on the days when I get down on myself (which is usually about halfway through a book). You’ve stuck with me through all of my lame moments (when I lock myself away in the writing cave for months at a time), and cheered me on the rare moments I’ve emerged with something new. I’m so lucky to have each and every one of you in my corner. Timitra, Naliia, Priscilla, Debbie, Cody, Leigh, and Denae, thank you for always being there to put a smile on my face. I love you guys!
I don’t know what I did to deserve the amazing bloggers who not only took a chance on my very first contemporary, Ricochet, but also stuck with me through the series. It’s a honor, every time you pick up one of my books and not only take the time out of your own busy lives to read and review it, but to add beautiful graphics with the quotes that stuck out most to you. You ask for nothing in return, and yet, have drawn so many new readers to my books. Whatever I did right, I promise to keep doing. I will forever appreciate all you do. Angela C., Eliza, Astrid, Naomi, Angela R., Kelly, Courtney, Ratula, Stephanie, Mimiorphee, Loyda, CeeCee, Gitte & Jenny—hugs to each and every one of you for sticking with me all this time.
And finally, my readers: I say this in the back of every book, but it’s true—NONE of this would be possible without you. These books wouldn’t exist if you weren’t there to read them and encourage me to keep on with the series. Thank you for taking a chance on me. Thank you for taking the time to read and review. And thank you for recommending my books to other readers. I promise to do my best and write a better story than the last, and keep delivering the swoon-worthy antiheroes you love.
Thank you for letting me share the Vigilantes world with you.
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About the Author
Keri Lake is a dark romance writer who specializes in demon wrangling, vengeance dealing and wicked twists. Her stories are gritty, with antiheroes that walk the line of good and bad, and feisty heroines who bring them to their knees. When not penning books, she enjoys spending tim
e with her husband, daughters, and their rebellious Labrador (who doesn’t retrieve a damn thing). She runs on strong coffee and alternative music, loves a good red wine, and has a slight addiction to dark chocolate.
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Other Books By Keri Lake
CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE
RICOCHET
BACKFIRE
INTREPID
BALLISTIC
EROTIC ROMANCE
RIPPLE EFFECT
PARANORMAL ROMANCE
SOUL AVENGED
SOUL RESURRECTED
SOUL ENSLAVED
SOUL REDEEMED
THE FALLEN (A SONS OF WRATH SPINOFF)
DYSTOPIAN ROMANCE
JUNIPER UNRAVELING
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