“It won’t. She already accepted a deal. DOJ is recommending the minimum, which is twenty.”
I patted Adam on the back. “Thanks for letting me know. I’ll tell Debbie later. And thanks for helping Brook.”
“It’s what we do for family,” he told me for the second time.
At least some of her family was on my side. I’d run afoul of Uncle Lloyd by not asking his permission before proposing to Debbie, but fuck it, the timing had been right.
An hour and two beers later, Duke, Serena, Brooklyn, and my motorcycle mama, Debbie, had gotten the two sides to mingle and a fair amount of laughter was the result.
I drifted over to Spencer and Nell. “I wanted to thank you for the advice you gave my bride to be,” I told Nell.
She looked at me quizzically. “And what advice was that?”
“That she should trust me.”
Spencer’s look was doubtful at best.
“I didn’t ever tell her that,” Nell protested.
“She said you did.”
“No, I only told her I hadn’t kicked you out of my diner, and she should draw her own conclusions.”
“Sounds like high praise to me.” Spencer laughed. “You kicked me out the first time I came in.”
“Only after you spit on my floor,” she shot back.
“I didn’t spit on purpose. Billy put hot sauce on my food when I was in the can.”
“And whose fault is it if you can’t control your own guys?” she asked.
Just in time, I saw my brother Bill come in from the street and escaped before I was asked to referee for the two of them.
Bill was making his way to our sister, and I rushed that direction. He held out a closed fist. “Close your eyes,” he told Brooklyn.
“I don’t play that game with you anymore.” She turned to Debbie next to her and said, “Last time it was a lizard.”
Bill laughed. “Yeah, and she dropped him and almost killed the poor thing dancing around like a crazy lady.” He kept his closed fist outstretched. “It’s not alive. I promise.”
Debbie nudged Brooklyn.
“Okay,” she said as she closed her eyes and held out her hand.
A ring dropped from Bill’s into hers.
Brook opened her eyes and gasped. “You got it back,” she shrieked.
The group nearest us went quiet and looked over.
“This is the one Harry stole from me,” she told Debbie before hugging Bill to death. “How?”
“I asked for it,” he deadpanned.
My guess was that my Marine brother had probably implied something like slow death by scorpion stings to get her douchebag ex to cough up the expensive ring.
Brook was over the moon with her good fortune today.
As the party wound down, Debbie and I looked over the dwindling crowd.
Her uncle, Lloyd, wandered our way with his wife. “I wanted to apologize,” he began, holding a hand out to me.
I pulled Debbie closer. “No need, Lloyd.”
Robin snaked her arm behind him. He shook his head and held my eyes. “Yes, there is a need. I behaved in a way I wouldn’t ever want one of my children to behave, and Robin and I want to offer an early wedding present.”
“We don’t need anything special,” Debbie interjected. She’d been trying to keep me from feeling ill at ease with the wealth of her family.
Lloyd nodded. “Be that as it may, this is something we both think…” He put his arm on his wife’s shoulder. “…is deserved.” He pulled an envelope from his jacket pocket. “You’re going to see it in the paper tomorrow anyway.” He extended the envelope toward me.
I took it. The corner read Governor of the Commonwealth of Virginia.
Debbie nudged me.
I opened it, and tears threatened as I read the words. “I don’t know what to say, Lloyd.”
“Robin went to school with the governor, and we thought the least we could do—after all you’ve done for Debbie and our family—was to plead your case.”
Debbie left my side to hug her uncle.
I hugged his wife and shook his hand vigorously with the heartiest thanks I could manage.
A small crowd of family members gathered.
“What’s the news?” Debbie’s oldest cousin, Dennis, asked. Josh, Vince, Zack and the others joined the chorus.
Debbie held the letter over her head. “The governor has pardoned Luke.”
A lot of backslapping, hand shaking, and congratulations ensued, and champagne appeared out of nowhere.
“I took the liberty of bringing some bubbly along,” Lloyd admitted a few minutes later.
I looked around and realized I was surrounded by a group that had truly accepted me into their family, even before the letter that erased my ex-con label, and I had the best possible woman by my side. I couldn’t have been happier. I didn’t even try to hide the tear.
The End.
The following pages contain an excerpt of the next book in the series Return to London, available on Amazon HERE.
Sneak Peek: Return to London
Chapter 1
Rebecca
“Top priority,” Smithers had said before he disappeared into the crowd. It was just the kind of assignment I needed.
Midblock, I arrived at the correct doorway and pushed in.
Not a single hair was out of place on the middle-aged woman who greeted me. “Good morning. Welcome to The House of Stafford,” she said loudly as the door closed behind me.
She appraised me from head to toe. The crinkle that formed at the corner of her eye said she didn’t find my business attire, especially in its current wrinkled state, up to the standards of her desired clientele.
“My name is Martha. How may I assist you today, madam?” she added dryly. The door to the street opening behind me drew her attention away.
“I need to speak with Mr. Stafford,” I told her.
Her eyes returned to me. “I am afraid Mr. Stafford is a very busy man and only sees clients by appointment,” she said with a haughty lift of her nose. She looked past me to the couple who had entered. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
I slid to the side, blocking her attempt to move around me. “If you’ll tell Mr. Stafford that Rebecca Sommerset is here to see him, I believe he’ll make the time.”
Her huff was barely audible. “I’ll be with you momentarily,” she said to the others. Taking my card, her smile faded. “I’ll check with Mr. Stafford.” The slight cock of her head and squint of her eye was more polite than an eye roll, but conveyed the same disdain.
The House of Stafford dealt in incredibly rare and expensive jewelry, catering to the equally rare, incredibly wealthy upper crust of society.
I moved aside for the bearded man in a suit and the woman wearing a black hijab. Middle Eastern royalty had the money to compete with London’s upper crust for Stafford’s services.
Stick-up-her-ass Martha returned from the back with a pasted-on smile. “This way, please, Mrs. Sommerset.” She held open the employee door for me.
“Ms. Sommerset,” I corrected as I passed her and went into the back.
She led the way around a corner and down a hallway.