“It’s official,” Drae announced. “My son is a ninja.”

“Which one?” Cam asked with an amused snicker.

Drae blinked and then had a good laugh. Throwing his hand up for a high-five, the two slapped palms with a great deal of enthusiasm.

Alex smiled indulgently. Who would have ever imagined the three of them would share dad stories? Not him, that was for sure.

“Kids are like a hand you draw in cards.” He chuckled. “Me and Cam got one of each, and you scored a pair!”

“Check this shit out,” Drae said. He produced his phone and leaned it against a coffee mug so they could all get a look.

Alex studied the video along with Cam, and he had to admit it took him a couple of clicks to figure out just what the fuck they were watching.

The setting was the St. John nursery. Danny’s room, to be more precise. There was no sound and no movement, and then, like magic, little D’s head popped up. He wiggled and squirmed till he was sitting in a corner of the crib. An extended yawn followed by a body shudder shook the little lad and made Alex smile.

“Wait for it,” Drae murmured.

They continued watching in silence as the St. John heir rolled around his crib and did the things every young toddler did. He babbled and laughed, stood and held the sides of the crib as he jumped up and down.

“And … here we go,” Drae told them with a snarky chuckle.

Like the monkey he was proving to be, Daniel Alexander St. John grabbed the top rail of the crib and hoisted his little butt up using his feet to shimmy to the top. Without fear or hesitation, he kept a fierce grip and swung one leg over the top rail.

Cam muttered, “Oh, my god.”

The other leg followed, and then like a champion gymnast, he very carefully slid using the crib’s side slats until his feet hovered above the floor. When he let go and landed on his butt, the kid never even blinked and quickly jumped up into that pose he rocked like a pro where he hopped and looked around like he was ready for battle.

“Well, guess that clears up any question of D’s true paternity. Clearly,” Alex drawled, “the lad takes after his ninja father.”

Drae’s face when he gasped at Alex’s snarky putdown was classic Justice. “True paternity, you balding asshole?”

Alex ran a hand through his thick head of hair. “Hey! Be nice. Rafe has that bald thing covered for all of us. And you deserve the paternity skepticism. How you and your wife got together isn’t your proudest moment, dude.”

Cam had a good chuckle. “He’s right. We talk behind your back, man. How you escaped a paternity test while you were balling every female in your path is a fucking mystery.”

He and Cam slapped palms and sniggered at Drae. When their mockery wasn’t met with witty comebacks, Alex gave his right-hand man an ocular pat down. It wasn’t like Draegyn not to enthusiastically engage.

“What is it?” he asked.

Shrugging away Alex’s question, Drae gathered wood scraps into a pile and gave the impression of busywork.

Cam caught his eye, and Alex answered with a bewildered expression.

“Draegyn. Don’t shut us out. What’s wrong?”

“Ah, fuck,” his old friend grunted. Drae scrubbed his fingers back and forth on his unusually casual head of hair. They had been giving him grief about his recent lack of grooming, and his response was generally a surly, “Blow me.”

“Look. I know I deserve every single slur, joke, and rude gesture. I’m an easy target.” He held his hands up. “Guilty. Surrender without incident.”

Cam said, “Yeah, but?”

“It makes Victoria look bad.” Drae’s uncomfortable shuffling and hand wringing made Alex feel bad. “And I don’t want my sons, well … you know.”

Silence fell inside Drae’s cavernous barn woodshop. Then the guy dropped a truth bomb that brought he and Cam to their feet.

“Guys, I want being a St. John to mean something. I want my kids to break the mold, and to do that, I can’t be the official Justice douchebag.”

Cam muttered, “Break the mold.” He nodded and shook Drae’s hands. “I see it. You and Desiree are the St. John reboot. Mad props, brother.”

They bro hugged for two seconds before Alex growled like a bear and ripped the two apart with his clumsy paws. Drawing Drae into an emotional hug, he lifted him off the floor and squeezed till they broke up laughing. For shits and grins, he managed to spin them in a circle before hefting a grown ass man got to be too much.

“Put me down, you big goon before I lip kiss you while Cam shoots us for Snapchat.”

They laughed, shuffled around, threw a few fake punches, and generally mocked each other as pussies.

“And another thing,” Drae added. “I’m okay with breaking out an occasional Sinjin. Consider my crybaby embargo a thing of the past. Team Justice uses it quite freely. It bothered me at first—like scratching a chalkboard—but I’m over it.”

Alex felt an internal wow at Drae’s statement. Might seem like a nothing-burger to an outsider, but he and Cam had talked this subject to death a long time ago. It wasn’t because of the war that Draegyn refused to use the tag name. It was because he hated the St. John pedigree with his whole being. Over time and by degree, he turned that hate inward. With every empty sexscapade and gossip blind item, he added to the pretentious St. John self-importance.

His sister, Desi, made the break first. Her flannel shirt life of tromping around nature with a brood of kids and a regular guy husband gave Drae hope. But it was hope for something he couldn’t find by himself without magic or a miracle.

And then Tori Bennett came to town and put his arrogant ass in its place.

He and Cam had known Draegyn for a long time and had never seen him flatfooted by anything. He was the poster boy for cool under pressure. When the agency needed to scare the piss out of someone, they generally sent Drae because he was a world-class cool customer. Watching the little powerhouse make the conceited shithead squirm had been endlessly amusing.

Being a husband showed his growth as a man.

Becoming a father altered his perception of his place in the universe.

He was Draegyn St. John. Husband to Victoria. Father of Daniel and Ryder.

Alex was proud of him.

“Hey”—Cam sniggered—“does that mean it’s okay for Dyl to call you Sinjin? Uncle Draegyn is a fucking mouthful.”

“Sure.” Drae laughed. “Actually man, it’s kind of cool.”

Alex hooted a laugh. “Oh, my god. Get this! Uncle Sinjin and Aunt Toto. Sinjin and Toto. SinTo. ToJin. Which one? Huh?”

Cam threw his head back and laughed. “Are we doing that now? Making goofy couples names?”

A thunderous knock that sounded like a heavy boot kicking the door made them turn toward the sound. A commotion was going down outside the barn.

The big door swung open and slammed against the side of the building. Raven came bounding into the barn with a shoe in her mouth. Dylan, Danny, and Molly were next—chasing her and screaming as kids do—at the top of their lungs.

Just that fast bedlam broke out.

Rafe stumbled after them, wearing one Air Jordan.

Danny yelled, “Wun, Waven, wun!”

Familiar with her dad’s barn, the dog knew exactly where to go in order to evade surrendering Rafe’s shoe.

Molly had an infectious case of little girl giggles that made Alex smile, and Dylan, with his badass-in-charge swagger, stomped about directing the entire show.

The Junior Justice crew was sizing up to be a force of nature—just like the incredible women who turned all their lives upside down and inside out.

Despite putting on an exasperated act, Rafe had a king-sized laugh going on too. The antics of the kids got all of them chuckling.

“All three of those kids don’t weigh as much as your legs, D’Alessandro. How the heck did you lose control?”

Rafe shook Drae’s hand and answered his question with a good-natured sneer. “Your boy is a sneaky shit, Sinjin. Dylan set me up, and when Danny saw the opening, he had that damn dog steal my shoe!”

“Dyl’s squadron leader, as usual.” Cam chuckled.

Rafe shook his hand and thumped him on the back. “Bro, no lie. I think he might be smarter than you.”

Alex saw how funny it was and laughed along. Rafe saluted and pointed at his dirty sock. “Out of uniform, sir.”

He returned the salute and gestured with a nod to Molly. “She’s got your number, huh, Dad?”

“You have no idea,” Rafe admitted. “She and Bella conned me into going to Penny’s Parlor.”

“What the hell is Penny’s Parlor?” he asked. Alex looked at Cam when he snorted with laughter and slapped his thigh.

Rafe chuckled. “Right? Sounds innocuous. I figured it was ice cream. Nah, man. It was a dress-up tea party at this business on Main Street that caters to little girls. Saturday tea takes place twice a month. You know those little tables and chairs in kindergarten? Yeah. That. With a fancy tablecloth and finger sandwiches the size of a dime. I felt like Gulliver.”

“We got her, Daddy.” Molly giggled. She came toward them with her hand on Raven’s collar. Behind her, the boys smirked and elbowed each other.

Raven trotted happily right up to Rafe and sat. Her mocking obedience was a St. John trait. Alex wondered if Drae even realized this about his dog.

“Uh, guys,” Rafe grumbled. “Where’s my shoe?”

The kids cracked up laughing. Raven sat next to Rafe with her tail thumping a happy rhythm on the barn floor.

Rafael D‘Alessandro in all his beefy glory standing in Drae’s woodshop minus a shoe while the dog thief feigned innocence and Junior Justice laughed their asses off was a picture-perfect moment.