Page 192 of Possession

“I figured,” Tim says. “I already asked. He’s part of the package.”

Micah shakes his head. “Are you even going to ask if I want to move to Miami?”

Brax shrugs. “You went to college in Florida. You loved it. Why wouldn’t you want to go back?”

“It would be nice to be asked, that’s all I’m saying,” Micah huffs and moves to the door of the conference room we took over. “Let’s go, Roc. We’ve got to get to the airport. And, evidently, I need to give notice and pack every belonging I own. It’s just shits and giggles being your friend, Cruz.”

Micah stalks out, and Rocco groans as he pushes himself up to follow.

Brax turns to Tim. “I appreciate it.”

“I’m selfish. Braxton Cruz and Micah Emmett make me look good. I was hoping you’d follow me. I knew you and Emmett would be a package deal.” He tips his head to where Micah and Rocco just left. “That was fun though. But if we don’t leave soon, we’ll miss our flights. You two were late.”

He’s right. Brax and I were not in a hurry after our morning festivities.

Tim leaves, and I turn to Brax. “Miami. I’m excited.”

“I’m shocked. But it’s a new start for us. It’ll be good.”

I step into his arms and press my front to his. “I don’t care where we are. I can’t wait for a lifetime of adventures with you.”

EPILOGUE

Brax

Four weeks later

Landyn and I were packing the apartment last week when I got a call from Cole Carson.

His exact words were, “We’re still on a break, asshole. But turn on the news—you’re going to want to see this.”

Landyn and I stood side by side among stacks of boxes, staring at the TV as the news reported how Alamandos Marino, leader of the Marino Cartel, was killed in a roadside explosion. Authorities thought he was being transported from one safehouse to another. His entire caravan was taken out. The Mexican government speculates it was infighting with the Lazadas.

That was it. The CIA did their thing.

The Marinos are no more. I did what I set out to do.

Talk about a whirlwind.

Six weeks ago, we were living in a mansion owned by the Marino Cartel. Two weeks later, I moved Landyn into my place in Queens—though moving her in is a relative term. She lived out of boxes and suitcases scattered in every corner we could fit them during our time there. I spent my days wrapping up the case in San Diego and planning to move. Landyn spent her days with my mom and Rocco.

Getting Landyn to the point where she was comfortable with my family wasn’t easy. She was a mess all over again when we saw my mom and sisters for the first time.

I get it. She was a ball of nerves. Her dad killed my brother. He caused more heartache and pain for my family than anyone should have to endure.

But my family loves me, so they love her. And after the last few weeks of bonding with my mom, they’d love her regardless. They experienced what I fell in love with no matter how hard I tried not to. They couldn’t hate her if they tried.

We pulled into Miami late last night. My mom will join us before winter. We’re going to start checking out retirement communities this weekend for her to visit. She wants to be outside, play bingo, line dance … whatever else they do. She can fully recover and my sisters can help her pack. It will be hard for her to move from Queens after living in that house for thirty years, but not as hard as it could be.

Brittney and her husband are buying the house we were raised in.

Our memories with Brian will live on, and my sister and her family will have the space they need. It worked out perfectly.

The government is moving our things, but they won’t arrive until next week. We rented a small apartment, but only signed a six-month lease. We’re going to get the lay of the land and figure out where we want to live. I thought we were going to have to get a two bedroom so Rocco could have a place to settle until he got on his feet, but Micah stepped up in a big way.

Rocco starts taking classes at a small university next month.

Micah played in college as an offensive guard—not at a small school, but at one of the strongest Division 1 football programs in the country—and has contacts all over Florida. He called a few old coaches and they called their friends. Within a week, Micah was wheeling and dealing like Jerry Maguire and landed Rocco a partial scholarship with a small program who’d just lost a wide receiver recruit at the last minute. Rocco’s high school videos and stats spoke for themselves, but it was Micah who put his neck on the line for the kid we’ve all adopted.

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