Keep It Classy

by Vale, Lani Lynn

  I sighed and stood up, hating myself for a second when every muscle in my body seemed to protest the move.

  “I’m getting too old for gunfights,” I mumbled as I creaked my way to standing.

  Turner wrapped her arms around my belly and squeezed lightly.

  “You scare the hell out of me sometimes, Castiel.”

  I squeezed her back as I said, “I don’t try to, baby.”

  She let me go and started to tug me to the room that Liner had stowed my family in but stopped when I felt something buzz in between us.

  Her phone.

  “I’ll be there in a minute,” she sighed as she showed me her phone. “Bud is calling me. He must’ve heard.”

  I nodded once, then leaned forward to drop a kiss onto her mouth.

  “Love you.”

  Her eyes lit up all over again.

  “I love you, too.”

  Leaving her there was hard, but as she urgently tried to reassure Bud that she was okay, I realized that she needed a few minutes to convince him, otherwise we’d have a pissed off special operations military member on our doorstep seeking retribution.

  “Make sure you tell him the guy’s dead as a doornail,” I called out as I left the room.

  I heard her laughter as she said, “Yes, Bud. He’s really dead. As fuck.”

  I had a grin on my face that fell away quickly when I got a load of the roomful of family that had taken up Liner’s couch and loveseat.

  I looked over to find no Liner in sight, but I could hear him talking to someone in the other room.

  Thinking he was on the phone, I didn’t bother to look into the kitchen as I made my way to the front room where he’d stowed my family.

  I found them all sitting on various couches and stopped, waiting.

  “We’re assholes!” my sister declared. “Big, fat, ugly assholes!”

  I looked over at my sister and shook my head.

  “For once in my life, I’m going to agree with you.”

  It took another hour of not just me, but Turner as well, convincing them that we were okay for them to finally leave.

  And when I looked over at Turner, who was now smiling, I realized that she’d forgiven them for their assholery.

  “I like them,” she sighed. “I’m not sure what happened the other day…but I’m willing to forgive and forget.”

  I shook my head and caught her hand.

  “Come on,” I said as I led her to the kitchen. “I need a glass of water. My mouth tastes like I’ve been sucking on cotton.”

  She followed closely by my side as we made our way into the kitchen.

  But when we breached the entranceway, everything in me froze.

  I looked up to find a woman that never should’ve been in his house in the first place sitting at Liner’s bar, looking like a scared little bird.

  “Tara,” I gasped.

  “Not Tara,” Liner said instantly. “Her sister, Theodora.”

  I looked over at the woman, trying to see the difference, and couldn’t.

  But when she opened her mouth and then her eyes, and I got my first good look at her eyes—which were the only thing different about this girl from Tara—I realized that he was telling the truth.

  “What in the actual fuck, Liner?”

  Liner shook his head. “Long fucking story, bro. Long fucking story.”

  Epilogue

  Shuh. Duh. Fuh. Cup.

  -Coffee Cup

  Turner

  6 months later

  Jubilee looked at me like I was crazy.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered.

  “We’re going to break into someone’s house,” I said.

  “What?” Her voice rose in pitch. “Why?”

  “Because that woman is a fucking psycho, and I need to do something about it before it gets out of hand.”

  “And what are you going to do to fix her psycho?” she questioned.

  “We’re going to get on her computer and block me. Block him. Block you. Block the hospital so she doesn’t know when he visits.” I paused. “Hopefully she doesn’t figure it out.”

  Because my man was now known as the ‘Hot Cop of Bear Bottom’ and was known everywhere he went.

  And his ex-wife, who was a slutty whore McAssbag, loved the attention. She’d take it anywhere she could get it, even going as far as to allow him to the hospital to see his nephew any time he wanted. As long as she could be there.

  And a lot of times she was.

  At least, she was once she got wind of it.

  And she was never mad to see him there, either.

  It sucked. I hated it. And I hated her.

  So it needed to stop.

  She blinked, then shook her head. “That won’t work.”

  I didn’t care.

  “We can’t break into the governor’s daughter’s mansion,” she insisted.

  I looked at her over my shoulder.

  “It’s happening whether you want to do it or not,” I informed her. “It seriously needs to be fixed. I can’t marry this man and have her in my life making it a living hell. She literally found out that we were getting married, and all of a sudden, she’s popped up again, asking him to go with her to pull the plug on the nephew. Let’s not forget that she showed up the moment she found out about my stalker and how Castiel saved me. I’m just…over it. I want her to go away.”

  Jubilee sighed. “I really don’t think this is the way to do it, though,” she pointed out.

  It may not be, but I didn’t have any better ideas.

  ***

  So we didn’t get taken away in cop cars.

  However, there were a couple of cops there when we arrived back at our cars, and neither one of them looked happy.

  Zee walked straight over to Jubilee and started laying into her.

  Castiel, on the other hand, looked resigned.

  “You did what you wanted to do?” he asked me.

  I nodded.

  “You think it’ll help?” he wondered.

  I sure the fuck hoped so.

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “But I’m crossing my fingers.”

  He snorted and walked over to me, curling his arms around my back and pulling me to him.

  A bulge that shouldn’t be there poked into my thigh, and I looked down at the square-shaped object in his pocket.

  “What’s that?” I nudged him with my thigh.

  His face went a little white.

  “Um, nothing.”

  I frowned and looked at him like he was crazy.

  “What’s nothing?” I pushed.

  “Uhh,” he hedged.

  That was when I laid my head on his chest and acted like I wasn’t worried about what the object was.

  When I had him in a false sense of comfortableness, I reached slowly down and jammed my hand into his pocket. When I came back up with whatever it was, I pulled away from him and ran, putting his cruiser and Zee and Jubilee in between us before he could so much as blink.

  “Give it back,” he demanded, looking demented.

  I popped the box open and then froze.

  Because what was inside was a massive diamond ring.

  “Goddammit, Turner!” Castiel barked. “Do you have to ruin everything? Seriously, I just wanted to ask you to goddamn marry me at home, with no fucking witnesses.”

  He jerked his thumb pointedly at Zee and Jubilee who were looking on with laughing eyes.

  “Ummm,” I murmured.

  “I just got in when I got the call from Zee that y’all were doing a little breaking and entering today. Seriously, I swear to God, I can’t keep a single secret from you.”

  I bit my lip and pulled the ring out of the box, slipping it onto my finger.

  “You can ask me now, it’s okay.” I held out my hand. “It fits!”

  “Of course, it fucking fits,” he muttered. “I used the ring you made out o
f your mother’s ashes to size it.”

  I felt my heart swell.

  God, this man loved me.

  Not only had he helped me with my mother’s funeral, her death, and everything in between, he’d also gone out of his way to make me a memento that I could carry around with me forever that contained my mother’s ashes in an opal ring.

  It was beautiful, and I wore it all the time.

  I had no idea when he would’ve found a time where it was off my finger.

  But I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

  “I love it,” I said. “Now, do your thing.” I pointed to the ground.

  Castiel rounded the car, growling at me in frustration.

  Then did his thing.

  He dropped down onto one knee, right there outside of his ex-wife’s house, and said four words.

  “Will you marry me?”

  ***

  Easton arrived hours after the party had started.

  Bayou, Zee, Wade, Linc, Liner—who looked haggard as fuck—Rome and even Slate, our newest member to the Bear Bottom Guardians MC, all looked at the newcomer with quite a bit of happiness at seeing him.

  Easton had been gone since the day he’d killed Craig Minns.

  Craig Minns, who we’d come to find out, had not only killed a few of the girls he’d been chatting up on the porn site’s private messaging boards, but also quite a few in his hometown before he’d branched out.

  Craig Minns had an extensive operation, one that he funded with his porn’s success. One that he did completely alone, thank God.

  “Glad to see you finally made it back,” Bayou said as he offered the man his hand.

  I watched Easton take it, then let it go.

  “I’m finally off assignment,” he muttered. “The moment I finished with that, I was asked to take over another agent’s assignment undercover. And as you can see” —he gestured to his burly beard and his haggard appearance— “I was a little out of my element.”

  Which was true. We were used to seeing him shaved and in suits. Not dressed as a lumberjack biker with a chip on his shoulder.

  “And I was driving through town when I saw the ‘Bear Bottom Hot Cop’ got engaged.” He grinned. “So I had to stop by.”

  I growled low in my throat.

  “Goddammit, Zee!”

  ***

  Four years later

  “Daddy, turn the lights on!”

  I did as I was asked, turning the lights on in the cruiser as we pulled up to the house.

  My only daughter, a ball of energy at three years old, squealed in glee.

  My wife, who was asleep in the passenger seat, groaned.

  I grinned as I pulled up to the garage of the house we’d built a half a year into our marriage, and turned the cruiser off.

  Getting out, I reached into the backseat for my daughter, then quietly closed the door.

  I’d wake Turner up to bring her inside, but she looked comfortable where she was sleeping. And honestly, she’d have a better time taking a nap in the car where it was quiet than in the house that was full of people.

  Turner was six months pregnant with our second, and not a day went by that I didn’t thank God that she was brought into my life.

  Patty, who was named after Turner’s mother, squealed in glee the moment that she saw my mother.

  “Grandma!” she bellowed.

  My mother bent down and scooped her up before she could even make it three steps in her direction.

  My mother loved my baby, but it made my heart pang when I thought about Turner’s mother never getting to meet her grandbabies. Or Turner not having her mother to turn to in times of need.

  “There’s my baby girl,” I heard called.

  I turned to find Turner’s father walking toward Turner, who looked like warmed over shit, walking into the door.

  Father and daughter embraced, and I saw the relief pour through Turner at seeing her father there.

  “I’m glad you came,” she said.

  “Of course we’d come for you, dodo,” Bud muttered from the couch as he swigged my beer. “Plus, we’re going to Disney fucking World. We can’t get out of that fun shit.”

  “Language,” my mother barked.

  Bud grinned. “Sorry, darlin’.”

  I sighed as my father walked into the room with his goddamn Mickey Mouse hat on his head. “I’m ready!”

  Turner looked at me and smiled.

  This would be our third trip to Disney World.

  The first time we’d been, we’d gotten married.

  The second time was when Patty was a year old.

  The third, we were obviously fucking crazy.

  But it’d become a family tradition to go every single year, and each of our family members had always come with us.

  I walked over to Turner and whispered into her ear, “I’ll give you a dollar to burn those mouse ears.”

  Turner snickered and buried her face into my throat. “It’d take more than a dollar, baby. I think he looks cute.”

  I snorted. “If you say so.”

  She pulled back and looked into my eyes. “I got you some, too, Hot Cop.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Don’t call me that.”

  She winked and showed me her phone. “Did you do something cool at work today?”

  I groaned and looked at the picture of the kids hanging off of me at the daycare that we’d visited to talk about safety.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Forty-two thousand likes and comments, only an hour after posting.” She batted her eyes at me. “Good job.”

  I growled and slammed my mouth down onto hers.

  “I can’t believe y’all still do this to me.”

  She laughed into my kiss.

  “I love you, baby.”

  I pulled away and looked into her eyes.

  “I love you more, Turner.”

  What’s Next?

  Hissy Fit

  Book 1 of The Southern Gentleman Series

  3-19-19

  Chapter 1

  Women my age are supposed to be able to look suave and sophisticated while walking in heels. Me? I manage to trip over thin air.

  -Raleigh’s inner thoughts

  Raleigh

  If there was one thing in this world that I never wanted to do, it was embarrassing myself in front of him.

  Ezra McDuff, the town bad boy, high school football and baseball coach. was everything I was not.

  Suave. Cool. Coordinated.

  Then there was me.

  My name conjured fear in the hearts of all residents of Gun Barrell, Texas.

  Why, you ask, would an innocent woman like me, the woman that every single kid in town screamed a hello to because she was the ‘best teacher ever,’ strike that kind of fear?

  That’d be because I, Raleigh Jolie Crusie, was the clumsiest person in four counties.

  And normally when I went down, I took people with me.

  For instance, moments before, I’d been walking.

  Sure, I’d been looking down at my phone because I was reading…but that’s beside the point.

  Who the hell put clearance Christmas shit in the middle of a godforsaken aisle?

  Target, that’s who.

  There I was, walking and minding my own business while I caught up on my latest read, and the next thing that I know, I ran into a large box of wrapping paper.

  And when I say ‘large,’ I mean large.

  There wasn’t just one box, either.

  There were multiple boxes.

  Fifteen, in fact.

  But, I’d walked past four such boxes before I’d tripped on thin air—like always—and took a header to the left.

  I managed to cradle my phone to my chest and tuck and roll, but that also made me into a human bowling ball.

  I took down not one, not two, not nine, but eleven
boxes jam-packed with wrapping paper.

  And every last roll of wrapping paper fell out of the boxes and started rolling in every which direction.

  Meaning that not only did it get me, but it got four other people in the process.

  Jennifer Marie, the beauty consultant at Ulta that was here getting a coffee. Brian McAdams, the young sales clerk that I’d taught three years ago and was now an assistant manager in this fine establishment. Larry Conway, the electrician. And finally, Ezra freakin’ McDuff.

  Though, Ezra didn’t exactly go down like the rest of the people did.

  He only tripped on one and dropped what looked like an armful of undershirts and underwear.

  Boxer briefs.

  Boxer briefs that landed directly next to my face.

  But apparently, clothing hadn’t been the only thing Ezra had been holding.

  He was holding a box of condoms, too.

  Why do I know that particular detail?

  Because the box smacked me in the face, and, like the loser my nose was, it started to bleed.

  He made me bleed by dropping a box of condoms. On. My. Nose.

  Dear sweet baby Jesus on a cracker.

  I grumbled and held onto my nose as I felt the blood start to pour out.

  The only good thing I could say about it was that it was one of those value sized packs, not just the small ones that had like twelve condoms in it…not that I would know. I’d never bought condoms before, so who knew? Maybe the value size was really the smaller package.

  The closest I’d ever gotten to the condoms was when I was buying tampons, and even then, they were still half an aisle away from the offending pieces of latex.

  I wailed and rolled onto my hands and knees.

  Instead of waiting around for cleanup, and knowing what a bleeder I was, I started to make a mad dash toward the bathroom where I could find something to hold over my nose.

  The first thing I came to once I was inside were the paper towels.

  I moaned as I covered my nose with a handful of towels, cursing the stupid machine when it only spit out a small square of paper at a time.

  God.

  Anybody. Anybody in the freakin’ world could’ve hit me in the nose with those condoms, and I would’ve been okay. Anybody but Ezra McDuff.

  Shit.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  I panted into the paper and rested my head against the cool, white-tiled wall beside the dispenser.