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“Honey, it’s okay. I’m okay, the girls are okay, you’re all okay. We’re fine.”

“I’m not sure I am,” he said, shaking his head. “We’re not kids any longer, Erin. If the magic of Belle Fleur holds, we may have another twenty years together. That’s not enough fucking time in my book. Not nearly enough. I want eternity.”

“Babe, you know that will happen. In its own way. Come on, the others are going to be waiting downstairs.”

He nodded, following her out of the room. But their conversation was sticking in his throat like a popcorn kernel that wouldn’t go away. He entered the restaurant as Erin headed to the women, hugging and laughing. They’d become immune to it all.

“We’re selfish fucking pigs,” said Ghost. Nine stared at his friend.

“Funny, that’s exactly what I just said to Erin. She said we’re just being us. That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

“Why is this one hitting different?” asked Ian. “We’ve been in this situation before. We’ve been in more dangerous situations. Why is this one so hard for us?”

“We’re older. More vulnerable,” said Gaspar. “When we get back. I think we need to meet. The entire Gray Wolf team and the VG boys.”

“Agreed,” said Trak as they all jumped, gripping their chests. He smirked at them, raising a mischievous brow.

“God, you’re an asshole sometimes,” said Ian.

“All the time. But they’re too precious to lose. Seeing baby sis held today nearly broke me. I was worried about throwing that knife.”

Nine whipped his head around, staring at his old friend. Never in his life would he have dreamed that Trak would worry about hitting his target.

“Trak?” frowned Ghost.

“I knew I’d hit him. But I was distracted by it being Erin, and for a brief minute, I was second-guessing myself. Nothing I ever do. But it was because it was her. It was Erin. She’s family. They’re all family.”

“Shit,” muttered Gaspar. And in perfect pitch, the others followed.

“Shit.”

“Shit.”

“Shit.”

“Shit.”

“Shit.”

“Shit.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Peter didn’t understand where he was or why he was being treated like a war hero. Beautiful women, handsome men, and the most polite children were coming in and out all day carrying flowers, medicines, hand-knit blankets, and the best damn food he’d ever eaten.

“Where am I, exactly?” he asked Gaspar.

“You’re at my parents’ home and property. We all live here.”

“Yes. But where is here?” he asked.

“Peter, we keep this place somewhat quiet for good reason. We have our enemies and want to be sure we’re all safe.”

“I can understand that, but I’m not your enemy. I just want to know where I am so that Barbara can come and pick me up.” He blushed, and Gaspar chuckled, realizing what he was asking.

“Barbara, huh?”

“Well, yeah. She was very sweet when I was in the hospital, and her sister and her husband are back now. So, the kids are with them, and she offered to let me recuperate at her home.”