Envy (Fallen Angels 3)

Epilogue

Two weeks after Reilly got out of the hospital, she stood at her bureau in her bedroom and wondered if it was morally wrong to wear lingerie under your clothes - assuming you were going to your parents' for Sunday dinner.

Maybe she'd just throw on the black lace. Sexy, but nothing peekaboo -

"What you doin'," Veck said as he came up behind her and put his arms around her.

He was naked, as usual, and very glad to see her - as usual.

Glancing over her shoulder, she smiled and held up the bra in question. "The black. I was thinking the black. What say you?"

"Good choice. It's one of my favorite sets to take off of you."

As he kissed her slow d deep, and rubbed that arousal against the back of her bathrobe, Reilly gave herself over - but only for a moment.

Inching away, she shook her head. "We're already late."

"Won't take me long," he murmured, going for the tie in front. "Promise."

"But I'll have to explain to my father why we delayed dinner."

Veck stepped back sharply. Cleared his throat. All but glanced behind himself to see if the man in question was in the room with them. "Good God, why aren't you dressed yet, woman. Come on - shake a leg."

She laughed as he headed over to the suitcase in the corner and started throwing on clothes like the house was on fire.

Her partner was still the tough-cored, straight-talking, sexy man she'd fallen in love with: Ever the dogged detective. Always alert and very protective of her. Precisely the kind of guy who never backed down, rarely gave an inch, and somehow managed to still cater to her.

But if there was one person on the face of the planet who could snap his BVDs, it was her father.

Veck and Big Tom, as Veck called him, were cut from the same cloth, but Veck never overstepped, and was always on his best behavior. And the fact the pair got along so well was just one more reason to love both of the men in her life.

"You're still in that robe, Reilly," he shot over while he yanked his pants on.

"I love you, you know that?"

He didn't even pause, the flapping continuing as he pulled on a button-down. "That's nice, honey. Now come on, get dressed."

Reilly laughed again, grabbed her Victoria's Secret, and did her own, toned-down version of the DelVecchio shuffle in the bathroom.

It was amazing how much had changed ... and how little. Bails's body had been found in the rubble of the quarry three days later, and the cause of death had been ruled a suicide, as the gun he'd used had still been locked in the grip of his cold hand. Kroner had also woken up dead: Medical staff at the hospital had discovered that very night of the quarry collapse that he'd stopped breathing and they'd been unable to revive him, something which had not been a surprise, given the extent of his injuries.

As for Sissy Barten, her death had been unofficially hung around Bails's neck: Her body had yielded no DNA to tie the two together, but forensic IT specialists had gotten into the man's various computers and found a web, literally, of madness and scheming - all of which revolved around Veck and Veck's dad. Turned out Bails had often spoken in his postings online of killing someone just as Sissy had been killed, using precisely those techniques and markings, as a way to honor Veck's father.

Needless to say, Veck had been cleared of all suspicion - in fact, an audit of the security camera files from the evidence room showed that the system had conked out for a period of time one night between when the Kroner stuff had come in and when Bails had put forth his false accusation. The implication that Bails had somehow engineered the malfunction was obvious.

And that ... was that.

In the aftermath of it all, Veck didn't talk much about what had happened - or remark on the fact that his father had been executed on schedule, or seem to dwell on that moment in the cave when the wrong decision on his part could have ended both their lis. But there had been enough nights when she and he had lain together and he'd said a few words here and there. She was giving him time, and he was taking it, but she'd never gotten the feeling that he'd hidden, or would hide, anything from her.

God willing, they had the next fifty years to keep up the dialogue.

"Are we ready?" he called out from the bedroom.

"Yup! Coming!"

A quick brush of her hair, a spritz of that perfume Veck liked, and she rushed out of the bath -

In the center of her room, right by the bed they shared, he was down on one knee, with a little velvet box on his outstretched palm.

Talk about skidding to a halt.

Putting her hand to her beating heart, Reilly blinked like an idiot for a moment.

"Two guesses what I'm going to ask you," he murmured, flipping the top open.

For a long moment, she just stood there in shock. Except then she got with the program, all but floating over to him.

Looking down, she saw a small, perfect diamond in a simple pronged setting.

"Just so you know," Veck murmured, "I asked your father a week ago. He gave me his permission - and vowed to beat me to a bloody pulp and bury me in your mother's rose garden if I ever do wrong by you."

Reilly got down on her own knees with him, tears waving everything up. "It's ... really like him to say that."

They both laughed.

"Yeah. So." Veck cleared his throat. "Sophia Maria Reilly, will you be my wife? Please?"

She nodded, because she didn't trust her voice - and forget about the rock; she threw her arms around him and held on hard. "I love you... ."

Veck crushed her to him, and then eased back. With hands that shook ever so slightly, he took the ring out of its velvet slot ... and slid it on her finger. "Fits perfectly."

She took some time to admire the winking, flashing brilliance. The stone was incredibly bright and lively, almost impossibly so.

"It's not big," Veck said, "but it's flawless. That was important to me. I wanted to give you something ... flawless."

She pressed her lips to his. "You already have, though. And it's nothing you could buy me in a jewelry store."

Veck kissed her back for the longest time ... forever it seemed, and that was just barely enough for her.

And then, with his mouth still against hers, he whispered, "Now do you mind if we get in your car and break the speed limit? Much as I love your mother's garden, I'd prefer not to be Miracle-Gro, especially on a night like this."

Laughing, Reilly got to her feet and helped her ... holy crap, fiancee ... to stand up. "You know what I just realized? We both go by our last names."

"And neither one of us can cook."

"See," she said as they raced for the stairs side by side. "We were meant to be together."

Halfway down, he tugged her to a stop, pulled her into his arms, and kissed her again. "Amen to that, my love. Amen."

One last kiss ... and then just like that, they were out the door ...

And off into their future.

THE END