Page 142 of Kneeling to Candy

There’s no way she didn’t hear me roar at O’Conall he couldn’t have my wife. People in relationships don’t throw spouse terms around unless they’re married. There are a million other pet names a person could use when expressing their partner instead.

The urge to take her aside and explain away what I said in the heat of the moment is strong. But I don’t want to lie to her. I’ve already lied by omission. No need to tack on to my list of offensives. She hasn’t asked, so I’ll let it sit—for now.

As we wait, the feds question the abducted women. Bree, Jolie, and Stacy cling to each other, refusing to let go, not even when an agent wants to question them separately. When the agent keeps insisting to separate the women, even taking Jolie by the forearm to lead her away, Flay intervenes.

“Get your damn hands off her if you want to keep them attached to your body,” he threatens.

Too shocked to respond, the agent gapes at our burly medic as Flay pulls her away and returns her to her friends. Jolie looks up at Flay with teary eyes and mouths, Thank you. He gives her a stiff nod before he returns to Enzo. As Flay treats Piero’s bodyguard, he keeps an eye on the girls, his focus mainly on Jolie. The big guy has a soft spot for vulnerable women.

Things get interesting when the feds bring out O’Conall and Duffy’s surviving guards and bidders. Those who are healthy enough to face arrest are handcuffed and placed into the back of windowless vans to be transported to jail. Those too injured are transported to the hospital, where they’ll get the medical care they need before being processed for jail.

When a middle-aged man with a head of white hair and a sharp widow’s peak comes out of the estate in cuffs, our crew turns feral.

“Dirty pig,” Brass yells at the man in cuffs. He points a thick finger at the man we all identify as Fort Collins Chief of Police Owen Dunne. “You turned on your own city by involving yourself with this filth.”

“You’re a dead man, Dunne,” Reaper chimes in, cracking his knuckles like he’s ready to end the crooked officer himself. “Bet you won’t last a week in the slammer as soon as the other inmates find out you’re a cop.”

“And you’ll be REAL popular for that week of hell,” Stage adds with a sneer, spitting at Dunne as he passes.

Dunne flinches, trying to avoid the wad of phlegm.

“Better get used to it,” Eagle jeers. “You have a lot worse body fluids awaiting you in the clink.”

The crew chuckles, enjoying watching Dunne squirm.

Serves him right for being the mole inside the Fort Collins Police Department. The asshole screwed with a lot of our cases, throwing up roadblocks more than once. The worst being when he tipped off Lorenzo Bianchi when we discovered his illegal drug operation. His leak nearly got Josephine abducted and put Mama Bear Holland and Simone in harm’s way.

When you harm our family, shit isn’t forgivable.

As the feds load Dunne into the van, Triple approaches him.

“We’ll give Detective Quire your congratulations when he takes your position as chief of police. Here.” Triple tosses a bottle of gun lubricating oil on Dunne’s lap as the feds go to close the van doors. “For the ass pounding you’re gonna take. You’ll need it.”

The team breaks out into hysterics, grabbing their sides and slapping their knees.

“It’s not enough,” Candy murmurs beside me. “After covering for O’Conall and Duffy, putting Lord knows how many women through hell, what waits for him behind bars is not enough.”

She’s right. It’s not fair. Men like Dunne don’t last long in jail. His hell will be over as soon as it begins. For the women he victimized, it’s a different story. Several in law enforcement and government are at fault for what happened. The only silver lining is, Dunne’s reign has ended.

Not knowing what to say, I kiss the top of Candy’s head again, breathing in her sweet bubble gum scent. She burrows into my embrace, letting me comfort her in my own silent way.

Atlas and Gauge emerge from the horrible stone mansion, guns slung over their shoulders. They make their way toward our group, each sporting content smirks. The mission was near perfect. Plenty to be happy about.

Flay looks up from packing his medical bag, asking, “We good to go, Prez?”

“Waiting to get the all clear from the special agents.”

“And then we head home,” Gauge adds with a wide smile, rubbing his hands together. “By the time we get to Fort Collins, Opal will have her morning baked goods ready. I’m craving one of my wife’s cream cheese Danish. We could all use some sugary comfort food after a successful mission.”

Everyone nods in agreement—all except Punk.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Punk chides our team. “How can you be happy when there’s still work to do? This night was a shit show. First, I lose Candy, nearly identical to how I lost Jo to Estaban. Second, Butch gets hurt. And third, my dear old step-dad fucking got away!”

The crew goes quiet. Of course, we’re upset one bidder slipped past us. We hadn’t anticipated any of the buyers having a backup plan in case things went bust. Tire tracks further south of the logging road are the only evidence there was an all-terrain vehicle on standby. Punk had pursued the group through the dense pine forest, losing them when they hopped into the ATV and gunned it out onto the road past our barriers.

A few in the group hang their heads. Some, like Atlas and Gauge, look at Punk with pity. And the rest of us look at everyone else to see who’s going to take one for the team.

Chase is the first to break the silence. He’s probably the only one able to get through to Punk at this time, being his best friend. “I’ve got a copy of all the security footage, bro. If your step-father was here, I’ll find the evidence.”

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