Page 107 of Code Name: Typhon

“It’s another reason I’m deploying with you. I don’t want your head or fingers in human trafficking. You don’t have the background or the training.”

“Understood, sir.”

“Tank and Blackjack will be poking around, as will I. You keep your eye on your own prize.”

“You expressed a fairly low opinion of them. Why are they still deploying?”

I shrugged and smiled. “Part of the Unit 23 persona.”

“It appeared to be solely for my benefit.”

I nodded. “Brand, if you aren’t intimidated by me at this point, you have no business participating in this mission.”

“Your goal was to intimidate me?”

“Damn straight. There isn’t a person in either family who’s met me and isn’t. That includes both dons.”

“Got it.”

“Now that there’s no need for you to wrap things up with Nemesis, I suggest you get your arse back to London and enjoy every minute you can with Penelope in the same way I plan to do with El.”

The following day, Eliza and I walked out of the Kensington and Chelsea Register Office as man and wife. While we’d talked about spending Christmas in London, once outside, we turned to each other and, at the same time, said, “Casa Melro.”

We laughed at the brilliant feeling of being that in tune, then rather than going straight to the apartment, we stopped by the Market pub, the place where we’d spoke our first words to each other and, for me, where I first fell in love with Eliza. It was almost a year since the day my life had changed forever. I’d changed.

The anger and resentment I’d felt for so long rarely reared their heads anymore and never when I was with my wife. God, I loved thinking of her that way.

It was the freedom from so many negative feelings that allowed me to look at what had happened the day of Jekyll’s death in a new light. What if Saint hadn’t been at fault? What if I’d hated him all these years instead of the person I should’ve been holding responsible? If only internal affairs had released the final report of their investigation, years of questions and assumptions would’ve been unnecessary.

I stared at my beautiful bride as Rile’s words echoed in my head. He’d told me to forgive Saint, then added, “It will be worth it. I promise you.” I could see that now. More, I could feel it.

“You look so at peace,” El said, reaching over to cup my cheek.

“There is an expression fitting the way I feel today: all is right with my world. Hope it is true for you as well.”

“As right as it can be.” She smiled, but not through her eyes. “Ninety-nine percent perfect.”

If only I had it in my power to give her the missing one percent. Perhaps one day, I could mend the break between her and Saint. I didn’t know if there was anything I could do about her parents.

I ordered two glasses of Booker’s neat, like I had that first day, and we drank a toast to a lifetime of blissful happiness, mind-blowing sex, and love for each other and the children we both longed to have.

Her eyes met mine, and I saw everything I’d just said mirrored back to me. “How many?” I asked.

“Four,” she responded without the need for me to clarify.

“Perhaps in the new year, I’ll stop taking you away from Brighton so often and you can begin work on your sculpture.”

Her eyes scrunched. “Whatever happened to the drawing we did that day?”

My cheeks flushed, a rare occurrence for me. “I framed it.”

She giggled. “And where is it?”

I pointed in the direction of the building where my flat sat empty. “Up there.” I took her hand in mine. “I watched for you that night. I told myself not to. I thought about spending time in my gym and about getting work done, but I couldn’t leave that window. When you came out with your cousin, I rang you.”

“I remember. You walked me home.”

“And almost lost you forever.”

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