Dear self: Change locks immediately.
Not that I could forget anything like that. This incident will be swimming around in my head for at least the next month. I cannot believe he actually broke into my house to steal my watch! Wait until I tell May. She’s going to go ballistic.
Dev is standing in the entrance hall waiting for me. “You okay?”
I nod but don’t trust myself to speak. It’s so embarrassing that he witnessed that. Will he judge me a loser because I married one?
He takes me into his arms and hugs me, somehow knowing exactly what I need. His kindness, gentleness, and understanding, his knowing that I just need the space to handle my own problems . . . it blows me away.
“How did I get so lucky?” I ask.
“Lucky?”
“Yes. Lucky to have you in my life.”
He kisses the top of my head. “We both got lucky. And I think we can thank your sister for that.”
My sister and fate. Fate is what locked me up in that panic room with Dev two weeks ago. I thought I was in the wrong place at the right time, but I was wrong. It was definitely the right place to be and the right time to be there.
The kids are in the kitchen, no doubt with their candy poured out all over the table. I can hear them commenting and exclaiming over the awesome things they collected in the neighborhood.
I pull back from Dev and look up at him. “Thank you for being so cool.”
He smiles, pointing to his body. “Yo, lady. I’m a green bean. It doesn’t get any cooler than this.”
Even with that stupid green outfit on, I can see his muscles underneath. I’m inspired. “I think I’m ready to start my training now.”
His non-eyebrows rise as his face lights up. “Really? That’s awesome. We can start Monday.”
I walk down the hall with him toward the kitchen to join our children. “Should I be scared?” I ask.
“Yes. Be very scared.”
I stand at the entrance to the room admiring the kids and the happy camaraderie they share. When I first got divorced from Miles, I yearned for the simplicity of a child’s life. I didn’t want stress, I didn’t want worry, I didn’t want all these responsibilities. But now that I’m with Dev I have a different outlook. I like the complications. I like the excitement. I like steamed-up windows and random sex in the parking lot. I like being with a guy who’s seven feet tall and bold enough to go out on Halloween dressed as a green bean.
Dev steps up behind me and leans his chest on the back of my head. “Happy?” he asks.
I nod. “Yes. Very.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Life could not possibly be better. I’m headed into my second week of work at Bourbon Street Boys, I have a new boyfriend who’s way better than any I’ve ever had before in my entire life, and my kids are happy. What else do I need?
Before when I drove into the port, I felt uncomfortable. I felt like I didn’t belong there. But this time, right now, bright and early Monday morning, it’s completely different. I’m ready to kick ass in this new job, and I’m ready to begin a new case as an official part of the team. I’m ready to shed the fear that has been ruling my life for way too long.
I came early today on purpose. Before-school daycare had spots for my kids, and Ozzie is always here, so I figured he could let me in and I could sit down at one of the cubicles and go over the preliminary file that Lucky sent me via email over the weekend. I want to be ready to knock their socks off in the meeting, to show them how serious and dedicated to the job I am. I have a little less than ninety days to show them my stuff, and I’m ready to prove that no one can do this job better than I can.
I pull up to the front of the warehouse and let the car idle for a few seconds. Should I feel bad about ringing Ozzie’s doorbell at seven o’clock in the morning? He doesn’t seem like the type to sleep in, but if he’s had another wild night with my sister, I guess it’s possible.
I chew on my lower lip as I consider my next step. Maybe I should wait just a little while longer. I could always open up my laptop and do some work in the car. I’ll buzz him at seven-thirty. Or maybe . . .
My next thought is yanked right out of my head when a sound off to my left distracts me. My window is halfway open, letting the cool morning air in. I hear footsteps.
I turn to look just as something flashes in my peripheral vision.
“Don’t move,” says a man’s deep voice.
My eyes bug out as my brain computes what they’re seeing. In my near vision is the barrel of a gun. It looks so much bigger up close like this than I would have expected after seeing them on television.
Then it hits me. This gun is real. This isn’t TV. You are being held up by a criminal with a weapon that could kill you in less than one second! I have never seen this man before in my life. He’s heavy, sloppy, in need of a shave, and not attractive. Surprise, surprise: real-life criminals do not look like Colin Farrell.