The FBI didn’t have enough evidence to charge the head of Homeland Security, but the doubt it cast on his reputation was enough for him to retire early under a cloud of suspicion.
Commissioner Leydon was sent to prison, convicted on multiple counts of treachery and murder. He’ll spend the rest of his days behind bars.
Diesel says he was the scapegoat, because someone had to publicly pay, but they buried half the stuff that happened in the process, which I fucking hate. It means the man who ordered my father’s murder is walking around with a generous pension and not a single care in the world. I could go after the ex-head of Homeland Security, but there has to come a point where you draw a line under something, and we made a call, collectively, to let it go.
Maybe, I’ll feel differently in the future, but right now, we’re enjoying our new lives and the freedom we have to choose our own path.
Diesel says the new head of Homeland Security is a good guy and together they are hoping to clean up both organizations, but it’s a tall order because corruption is hard to completely weed out.
_______________
Caz and Theo enjoy beers on the patio while the three of us clean up after dinner. Then we join them outside, taking a few quiet moments to appreciate all we’ve fought so hard for.
Although nightfall is creeping in, the weather is unseasonably warm for September, and it’s still suitable for swimming. Something we indulge in regularly, thanks to our own private beach. I stand, pulling my cotton sundress up over my head and tossing it on the lounge chair. “Last one in the water gets cockblocked for a month.” I giggle as I race toward the shore in my bra and panties.
We all know I’m lying, because I can’t even go twenty-four hours without dick, but that fierce competitive streak that burns bright in each of my husbands—and their perpetual willingness to pander to my every whim and need—has them all jumping up and shedding their clothes like it’s an Olympic sport.
Water splashes me as I plunge into the ocean, wading through the waves, counting the seconds before one of them catches up to me. I shriek when strong arms lift me up like I’m weightless and I’m flung over broad shoulders.
Galen slaps my ass. “Naughty, naughty, angel. You know we’ll punish you for that.”
“I’m counting on it.” As I watch Theo, Caz, and Saint plow through the water, with a full heart and a giant smile on my face, I know I can always rely on my husbands to deliver what they promise.
_______________
THE END
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THE SAINTHOOD – BONUS SHORT NOVELLA
This bonus story is set twelve years after the epilogue in Reign.
I hope you enjoy catching up with the crew! Happy reading.
Chapter 1
Harlow
NUDGING THE FRONT door aside with my hip, I push into the house holding two overloaded grocery bags flush against my chest, praying I get to the kitchen before the kids realize I’m home and descend on me with the usual enthusiasm. I shut the door with my sneakered foot, wincing as it slams loudly behind me.
Shrieks ring out as I walk into the extended kitchen, and I spot Galen hunched over one of the rugrats beside the sink. The faucet is on, and Bishop is holding a wet cloth underneath the running water. Beads of water cling to my son’s bare back, and he’s wearing damp swim shorts, so I’m guessing they were out in the pool before the drama started.
Depositing the groceries on the island unit, I step toward my husband. “What happened?” I ask, already knowing Aurora is involved. Our two-year old is a magnet for trouble, and she revels in it. If there’s mischief involved, Rora will usually be at the center of it. God help us all when she’s older.
Galen straightens up, and my lips twitch as my gaze roams over our youngest daughter. Rora is covered in flour, her olive-toned skin coated in a thick white downy layer. It even clings to her lashes and adheres to her long dark hair. “The kids were helping me bake chocolate chip cookies,” Galen explains, leaning in to peck my lips. “I swear I only turned my back for two seconds, and Fireheart dumped the entire bag of flour over herself.” He shakes his head, stifling a smile.
Crouching in front of my daughter, I gently brush flour off the lashes framing her warm brown eyes.
“I didn’t mean to,” she pouts, jutting her lip out. “Was an ax-dent.” My heart swells at her cute little voice even though I know she’s lying because dumping a bag of flour over her head is something our little Fireheart would do willingly and not by accident. But I find it hard to chastise her—unless she’s being deliberately naughty—because she’s curious about the world and desperate to know everything there is to know, and I never want to tame her excitement or stifle her exuberant personality.
“It will come off, and no one got hurt. That’s the main thing.” I smile as I tweak her flour-dusted nose.
“The flour goes in the bowl. Not over your head, stupid,” Bishop says, rolling his eyes as he hands me the wet cloth.
“No name-calling, Bishop. Remember we talked about this.” Galen sends our eldest a warning look that would terrify most kids, but Bishop is no ordinary kid, and he takes everything in stride. He’s like five going on fifty sometimes.
Rora glares at her big brother as I attempt to wipe the flour off her face. “You’re mean.”
“And you’re naughty,” Bishop retorts, blatantly ignoring Galen’s words.
The flour on Rora’s cheek turns to a gloopy paste as I gently scrub at her skin with the cloth. Fuck. I don’t think this will wash off as easily as I initially thought.
I predict screams and cries in my near future.
Throwing the cloth in the sink, I decide I’m going to put her outside on the grass and try to shake as much of the flour off before hosing her down, and then I’ll put her in the bath.
“Prodigy.” Galen pins Bishop with a firmer look. “Be nice to your little sister, and leave the parenting to us.”
I worry about our son for a bunch of reasons; one being he’s so serious sometimes. He has a natural tendency to take on responsibility that is way beyond his tender years. We had all assumed he was Theo’s biological child until the test last year proved otherwise.
“Mommy.” Luna slinks over to my side, draping her small body around me. She’s wearing her Frozen terry-cloth poncho over a swimsuit. “Can you come in the pool?”
“I need to bathe Rora, put away the groceries, and make lunch. But I’ll get in the pool after that.” Gently tugging on one of her soft blonde curls, I smile at my gorgeous eldest daughter.
“Come on, princess.” Galen pries Luna off me, scooping her up into his arms. “Let’s finish making the cookies, and then we’ll go swimming.” She beams at him, her jade-green eyes bright, her blonde curls bouncing as she snuggles into his chest. Luna is the most affectionate of our three kids. She’s also the quietest. She breezed into this world four years ago with barely a whimper, and she hasn’t caused us an ounce of trouble since.