I wiped the tears away and cleared my throat. They needed me to be strong. They needed me to be okay. So, I set my sights on a colorful book spine that caught my eye. It glittered with gold and shimmered with an illustrious blue that forced my fingertips to its presence. And as I plucked it off the shelf, I smiled at the title.
“My Three Men.”
The smile that soared across my face came with a daunting thought. My three men? Since when had those guys becomemymen? I walked over to the bed and perched on its edge in somewhat of a daze. The silence was deafening, as if my part of the house had been cordoned off in a completely different country. And yet, as I sat there, staring down at the beautiful cover of the book, my fingers kept gracing the edging of the title.
My Three Men.
My Three Men, fighting for their lives while trying to protect mine.
“Please, stay safe, you guys,” I whispered.
I placed the book down beside me and walked over to the bay seating that separated the two bookcases on the wall opposite of the bed. There was an outline of what once looked like a window, but it had been sealed off and painted over. I reached out, fingering the colorful windowpanes that had been painted to look like stained glass. And yet, not a shred of light bolted through.
I sat down, easing onto the cushion so I could close my eyes and breathe for just a moment.
But, I sat on something hard, and it made me gasp.
“What the fuck?”
I quickly stood and found a dirty, muddy book sitting there. With a furrow of my brow, I reached for its existence, and even though dirt continued to fall from it, I recognized the cover.
It was the book I had dropped at the bar.
“Where did you come from?” I asked mindlessly.
I flipped through the pages, trying to see how much damage had been done to the book. But instead of focusing on the book, I focused on the little note etched into the back corner of the book’s last page. The penned ink looked fresh, standing out from among the dried, curling pages that still had yet to be freed of the dirt that muddied its words.
And as I read the note to myself, tears of joy crested my eyes for the first time in years.
L.G.,
This is a good one. Enjoy the ending.
Dutch
“L.G.,” I whispered.
After all, I got my lucky girl as my charm.
Panic gripped my throat. “Dear God, please come back to me.”
Because after everything I had been through—every tear shed, every degree earned, every job taken, and every time I moved—I finally knew where I belonged. I finally knew where I was meant to be. Who I was meant to be with. Where I wanted to spend my days. For years, I had lost time wandering about, trying to fulfill a life everyone else expected of me while ignoring my wants and needs. I had been away from my old life long enough to figure out what I wanted for my new one. A fresh start, with a home I could be proud of.
And it all hinged on my three men coming back to me.
24
DUTCH
I hated taking cars to do surveillance. They were bulky and easy to spot. But, with the kind of noise our motorcycles made, I couldn’t risk it. Not now that we had been spotted. I went back to the bar and cased it, making sure no one had been harassed or otherwise questioned unnecessarily.
But, when Grady told me that the man had just closed out his tab only moments before I walked in, I rushed back out to the car.
“I got you, you stupid fuck,” I growled.
Finding people was usually half of the battle, but that fucker made it easy on me. With his police cruiser soaring down the road with his lights going, I simply made sure the sound stayed in my ears. I sat back, with the radio on and my surveillance equipment littering the back seat, and followed the searing sound of that idiot’s blazing siren.
But, I didn’t track him where I assumed he’d go.
