EPILOGUE
The smoky aroma of barbecue brisket, Texas-style, floated on the air. It was a warm April Sunday in Dallas, the perfect time for a Garrett family and friends get-together.
The barbecue was at Chase and Harper’s new home in Old Preston Hollow, a charming older custom ranch with molded ceilings, overhanging porches, and lots of paned glass windows. A good house for kids, Chase had said.
Bran stood on the pool deck next to Hawk, Jaxon Ryker, and Jonah Wolfe while Chase grilled the meat. The house was great, but it was the three-acre property less than a twenty-minute drive from the city that had made the sale. Vast stretches of lush green lawn shaded by ancient oaks, brick walkways lined with flowers, even its own little creek.
Beneath the wide, covered patio, Jessie, Harper, Kate, Mindy, and Reese’s date, Fiona St. James, were laughing as they set the table with plastic plates, paper napkins, and red Solo cups.
Jessie glanced Bran’s way and their eyes met. The smile she gave him was so bright and filled with love it made his chest ache. She was happy. Besides adoring her like a lovestruck fool, he had given her the thing she wanted most. A family.
Her mom and dad were gone, her brother, Danny. But Bran, Chase, Reese, Harper, Kate, Hawk, and everyone who worked at The Max had accepted her as if they had known her forever. They loved her.
And Jessie loved them right back.
She sauntered up to him, slid her arms around his waist, leaned up, and kissed him. “I’m starving. How much longer?”
He flicked a glance at Chase.
“Ten minutes,” Chase said.
“I guess I can manage to wait.”
Bran grinned. “Maybe I should drag you inside andentertainyou until the food’s ready.”
She grinned back and fanned her cheeks. “You wicked, wicked man. Don’t tempt me.”
He laughed. She was wearing his engagement ring, a perfect diamond solitaire he had chosen to suit her small hand. They were getting married. Jessie wasn’t the only one who was happy.
A lot had happened in the months since they had moved in together.
In San Diego, the FBI and Homeland had rounded up the last of the terror cell involved in the weapons sale to Yemen. Because of her cooperation and candor, Mara Ramos had been given a reduced sentence, three years instead of life in prison.
Ahmed Malik hadn’t fared so well. He was in prison.Somewhere. Probably for the rest of his life.
Unfortunately, the Aryan Brotherhood gang members responsible for Colonel Kegan’s death had never been identified. They were already in the army stockade so at least that was something.
Jessie was still writing, digging up interesting cases and trying to find answers. Her blog, Kegan’s Korner, was growing by leaps and bounds. But an investigative journalist’s job wasn’t easy and sometimes, as he had learned, it could be dangerous.
No, their lives would never be boring.
“Brisket’s done,” Chase announced, stabbing the big slab of perfectly browned beef and lifting it onto a serving tray. “Let’s eat.”
Though Jessie seemed happy in Dallas, Bran had been talking to Chase about opening a branch of Maximum Security in Denver. Colt Wheeler was interested. So was Lissa Blayne. Ty was a definite yes, and Jessie was eager to get back to her mountains.
He slid an arm around her shoulders as they walked together toward the table groaning under the weight of cold potato salad, spicy chili beans, garlic French bread, chocolate cake, and bottles of hearty red wine.
Reese sat down next to his current date, a tall, elegant blonde as fair and beautiful as he was dark and good-looking. Fiona was intelligent and friendly, but there was no fire in the way Reese looked at her. Clearly, they would never be more than friends with benefits.
Bran wished his brother could find someone to share his life, someone to love who would love him in return.
But Reese was a loner and not an easy man to handle.
Bran picked up his fork and had just dug into the delicious meal when his cell phone started ringing. The name came up Detective Heath Ford. He pressed the phone against his ear. “Hey, Heath. What’s up?”
“Sorry to screw up your day, Bran, but your guy, Stan Wilton, just called 911. Cops are on the way to his house, but you mentioned you’d be working as his body man as soon as the Mavericks got back to Dallas. Stan’s back and he’s got trouble. Those death threats he was getting?”
“Yeah?”
