Later that night, I look over at my wife, who is helping me unpack my suitcase. It’s everything I own—clothes for many different occasions and two guns and bullets that can be used in both. The Vitali men took them at the door last night, as I expected them to, but have since given them back. Coincidentally, Troi had two spots available in her gun safe. I travel light for work. I haven’t thought how work is going to work now, but we have time. Tomorrow we are leaving on an impromptu honeymoon to Miami before I start working for the Vitali’s. They have asked me to take something to the Berlusconi family. I’m sure it’s a test, but I deliver the message nonetheless.
Twenty-four hours ago, I definitely didn’t think that I’d end up married to the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, but fuck, am I happy about how this all turned out.
“So, that happened,” she says after we get into bed.
“Yeah. I think they liked me,” I say, chuckling.
“I think so,” she replies, kissing my bare chest. “I know I do.”
I roll over so that I am on top of her. Her naked skin under me is warm, and she’s so willing to take whatever I give her.
“I love you, wife,” I tell her before kissing her.
“I love you too, husband,” she says breathlessly as I slide my hard cock into her wet and waiting pussy. I lose track of how many times and how many different ways I make her come, but eventually, she passes out in exhaustion. I worried that I was hurting her, especially after the way I took her last night, but she assured me she could take it. I kiss her head and pull the covers up over us. I don’t need much sleep, so I lay awake and think about everything that’s happened.
This was crazy fast, but I wouldn’t have had it any other way. I found the other half of my soul; now I have the rest of my life to get to know her.
Epilogue
Troi
Two Months Later
I pace my parent’s living room in my robe. It’s late, but I expected Trigger home hours ago. He’s been working with the family ever since we got home from Miami, but this is the first time he hasn’t come home when he said he would, and I am freaking the fuck out. I pray that nothing has gone wrong. He told me he was going to collect for my grandfather. Either the money owed or proof of death, but anything could have happened. My belly jolts, and I know that I am going to be sick. I run to the bathroom just in time. Using a new toothbrush from the hall closet, I brush my teeth and return to pacing. My mom comes into the room.
“Worry isn’t good for the baby, Troi,” she says, pulling me into her arms.
“How’d you know?” I ask, surprised because I just found out earlier. I haven’t even had a chance to tell Trigger yet.
“A mother knows, besides you’ve yakked five times in the last two days. I just knew.”
“Is it always like this?”
“What, baby?” she asks, releasing me from her hold.
“The worry. Every time Trig goes out, I feel like a piece of me dies.” I clutch my chest.
“Yes. I went with your father in the early days, even after you guys were born, but eventually, I stayed home, and I’m sorry, but it never goes away. Doing what we do, there is always a chance for something terrible to happen, but we do what we do because we must. Because if we don’t, some other family, someone worse than us, will come along and destroy us all. We may be on the wrong side of the law, but we’re on the right side of morality. He’ll come home,” she says just as she says that the front door bursts open. Dad and my brother Wyatt comes into the room.
“Where is he?” I demand.
“He’s coming. Damn idiot almost got us killed,” Wyatt says.
“What do you mean?”
“He went back for a baby.”
“He went back for a baby?” I repeat like a damn parrot.
“We took care of Fredo, but his neighbor's baby was screaming. He went over there to see what was wrong. The front door was open. The parents were getting high in the stairwell. He beat the fuck out of the man. The woman, scared for her life, told him to take the baby in exchange for her life. He did. Then she called the cops. We got pulled over, and they fucking shot at us. I don’t know how he did it, but they let him keep the kid.”
“What?”
“Yeah. Sorry baby. I couldn’t leave him there,” Trigger says, coming in, holding a toddler. At least three years old.