“Good,” Quinn whispered against my mouth. “Because otherwise, you’d never get your T-shirts back, Percival.” He sauntered toward the stairs while Elvo covered his laugh with a cough.
“Am I likely to get them back anyway?” I called after him.
“Probably not. They’re faded to the perfect softness.” He tossed me a look over his shoulder. “Come on. We’ve got a wedding to execute.”
We made our way upstairs, and I kissed Quinn goodbye before convening a quick meeting with my team.
Elvo and Riggs confirmed Vince’s departure.
Hux said he’d confirmed it from digital surveillance also. “The red devil seems to be headed for the private airstrip. Think the DEA is bankrolling him a private plane?”
I shook my head. I still didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but the evidence that Vince was working for the cartel was mounting, and I was confident we hadn’t heard the last of him. But I wasn’t going to let that knowledge ruin the rest of this day.
I lifted an eyebrow at Riggs. “So have you told Carter yet?”
Before he could answer, his fiancé came walking in from the front hall to the kitchen. “Got your all clear. Are you guys okay? Have you told me what? And do the Drakes know my grandfather? Because I could swear I saw his Bentley parked out there, but he didn’t mention he was coming to town.”
Carter was dressed in an expensive tux and looked like a million bucks. Riggs stared at him for a beat with tiny hearts in his eyes before I nudged him. “Tell him,” I whispered.
Riggs took Carter’s hands in his and knelt down on both knees, right there in the hall. “Marry me,” he said simply. “Today. Here. Now. Marry me.”
Carter’s eyebrows crinkled in confusion before he looked up at the rest of us. We probably resembled a flock of clucking hens anticipating Carter’s response.
“Is this…” He lowered his voice to a whisper, and his gaze darted around. “Is this an op? Is it still happening? Are we not clear?”
“No op,” Riggs said. “This is about you and me and the fact that I’m madly, passionately in love with you.”
Carter’s breathing kicked up, and he stared at Riggs in shock. “Here? Now?”
Riggs nodded. “You told me that the next time I proposed, I’d better have a minister in tow. So I spent all night last night swapping Marissa and Trey’s guests out for ours. I got Judge Kelly to come so she can sign off on the license and make it all official. I even brought your grandfather’s favorite pastor in to do the ceremony. Marry me, Carter Rogers. Please.” He bit his lip. I could see he was terrified of Carter’s disapproval. “You can tattoo a capybara on me whenever you’re ready.”
Carter’s eyes filled with tears. “Really? Oh, God, and now we don’t even have to plan our own big wedding? I just get to be… married to you from today on?”
Riggs kissed Carter’s hands before nodding. “Rogers and Rogers, for the rest of our lives.” His eyes were suspiciously shiny too.
“Then I say… yes.” He cupped Riggs’s face in both his hands and bent down to press a kiss to his lips.
I wished Quinn was there to squeeze my hand, but I knew he was scrambling to make sure the guests were ready and Carter and Riggs’s dream wedding was set to begin on time.
“Hey,” I said gruffly. “Save it for after the wedding, boys.”
Carter and Riggs broke apart with a laugh. Then we all made our way out to the tent, where two of the best men I knew pledged to spend their lives together while everyone who loved them looked on with joy.
After the ceremony ended and I’d collected my own man at the end of the aisle, where he stood directing guests to the bars set up around the edges of the tent, Quinn leaned over and whispered to me, “Think that’ll ever be you?”
I put my arm around him and pulled him close before whispering in his ear. “Only if you’ll agree to stand up there with me.”
Quinn’s grin was huge and full of his usual teasing. “Are you asking me to be your best man?”
I met his eye and grinned right back. “No. You’re already the best of men. I’m simply asking you to be mine.”
25
QUINN
I’d never been to a wedding as elegant and laid-back at the same time as Riggs and Carter’s wedding turned out to be. Their friends and family were an odd mix of blue-collar and blue blood, which for some reason made it eclectic in a good way. Everyone got along great, and by the end of the night, we were out on the dance floor with rolled-up shirtsleeves and alcohol-flushed faces.
The relief of the completed op contributed to the celebratory feeling, which might have explained why we danced as much as we did, but the next morning was full of regrets.