I'm battered, exhausted, pushed to my limit. I haven't been physically torn up this bad since the day the fuckwit hunched on the ground in front of me killed my boys.

Emotionally, I've never been this alive. Adam, Erik, Zane, their ghosts give me strength. They breathe a fury in my fists and a will to murder in my blood, guiding every blow to this asshole's body whenever I have the chance.

If I weren't distracted by something else, I think he'd be dead by now. This should be my moment of triumph, watching him with his broken ribs, backed into a corner, ready to mount his last desperate defense before I end him.

But there's nothing. No endorphin rush. No triumph. No satisfaction.

No desire to do anything except walk the fuck away, climb in my truck, and drive my family far, far away from here.

“You...you had a clear shot to grab my gun, you fuck,” Jackson growls, speech slurred on his swollen tongue. “Why didn't you? You want to fucking torture me?”

I stop in front of him, a couple feet between us, narrowing my eyes. “Why didn't you? You had a clean shot at my chest. Hell, I offered. You fucked yourself.”

“Don't you get it?! I'm not like you, Castoff. Not a fucking coward. I couldn't shoot an unarmed man. Don't have to prey on little girls who ought to know better not to get mixed up with psychos.” I take a step forward and he jumps, almost falling over. “Go ahead and finish it, asshole. I couldn't protect her. Couldn't talk Sadie out of it.”

He's leaving me no choice. Why does it even matter?

Finish this, idiot.

I reach deep inside myself, find my inner killer again. Then I rush him, grab his wrist, twist it to near breaking. It's the last shock his body needs. Knowing he's disabled, I power slam him into the old brick wall, snarling in his face, listening as something hard and metal scuffs the floor.

He barely fights as I reach down, searching, wrapping my fingers around lethal weight. It's heavy. Solid. A handle broke off a tool they used for rail work in the old days, probably.

It's more than enough to split his skull open, if I choose.

“Don't make me do this, prick. Sadie's the only reason I'm not finishing what I started with your brakes. Hell, what really started that day you got my men killed.”

“That's what this is about? Vigilante justice? Fuck, you're pathetic.” He stops talking and shakes. Something warm and slippery hits my face.

The asshole just spat on me.

Enough.

I bring the steel rod down like a hammer on his shoulder. It's worse than I intended, knocking him to the floor, nearly out cold. He's on his hands and knees, looking up like the demon he is, his eyes small black pools of hate begging me to send him home to hell.

“Last chance, you piece of shit. End it. Do it now. I couldn't turn you in. Couldn't keep you away from her. Couldn't stop you from telling everybody the awful fucking truth.”

“Truth? What truth?” Every syllable hurts. I'm sure a few of my bones are splintered. Wiping his spit from my face, I stare into the eyes of the man I have to murder.

“Doesn't matter. Just put me out of my fucking misery. They'll be off my mind. Send me to Father Karma, God's judgment, I don't fucking care. Just get this blood off my hands.”

I stare, trying to understand. He winces in pain, his head tipping down at the ground, before he looks up again.

New frustration clouds his eyes. “What the fuck are you waiting for? I said, do it. It's what I deserve after I killed them, isn't it?”

For five hellish years, I would have answered yes. No hesitation.

Today, that steel rod perched against his head, screaming for justice, slips from my hand. It hits the cement floor so hard the echo rattles my teeth. I take a step back, giving him breathing space.

“What...what are you doing?” he whispers. The surprise in his eyes isn't the only thing we have in common.

All these fucking years, I thought he was a monster. Believed I'd never have peace unless I killed him.

I look at the blood on my hands. There's no honor here. No right. No fucking peace.

“Howard, what the hell?!” He's trying to scream and it's still a desperate whisper. He can't manage more.

“Shut up. Listen to what's happening if you want to walk out of here alive.”

I wait for that to sink in, watch for him to blink, steeling my eyes. Then I crouch to his level, grabbing his face, holding it in a death-grip I'm sure will leave another bruise on his battered jaw.

“I'd be a damn fool if I let you walk away easy – especially when we're so much alike. I hate it, but it's true. So much common fucking ground I could slap myself for not seeing it sooner.”

“You're out of your mind, asshole. There's nothing!” He yells another lie, but the fear creeping into his eyes confirms the truth, clear and bright and blinding.

He knows, just like I do.

“Wrong. Let's be real: in less than a year, you'll be a father. A sick joke if I ever heard one. I kill you today, I leave your widow, your son or daughter, without a man to pay their rent or put them through college? I tear a hole through Sadie's heart she'll never get over, even if she knows it's self-defense.” I pause. He jerks his head, and I tighten my grip, until the bastard whimpers. “Worse, I kill you here and now, I lose my soul. And you do, too. I'll give you what you've wanted this whole fucking time, what I've been too stupid to see.”

“Psycho,” he snarls in my face again. “I'll turn you in, I swear! You better just kill me now or I will put you in jail, Howard.”

“Nah. Here's what you'll do instead: crawl back in your truck and drive home. Tell the cops you were wrong about the brakes, and I did a real nice job patching them up. Maybe I even saved your life. Then you'll pack your shit and leave this town forever. I'll give you three days to tie up loose ends.”

“Leave, you maniac? Leave what? This is home!”

He's such a defiant little shit. I tighten my grip, shake his head like a rabid dog's, waiting for him to shut the hell up, and listen.

“You've got money. You've got a pretty young wife. You've got yourself a kid on the way. You'll manage a few states over. I'll let you know when it's safe to come home for a visit. It'll be awhile after what you'll write for the local press.”

He shakes his head. Poor baby. So much confusion. “Write? What? What the hell do you mean?”

“You'll clear my name. Make a full confession. Tell the whole county you fucked up years ago, got good men killed, and I had every right to turn my back that day at the parade. Uncle Sam's investigators found you innocent, yeah, but the court of public opinion won't be so forgiving. Trust me, I know. I'm saving you plenty of grief, asking you to start over elsewhere.”

His face starts twitching in my hands. But he isn't fighting anymore. He's broken, bawling like a child who's finally been held accountable for the very first time. “You can't...can't just fuckin' do this. I –“

“Shut up, asshole. I'm not done yet.” I wait for his latest round of whimpering to stop. “You've got my address. The old place you drove me out of nearly a month ago. I'll be expecting your financials every quarter. Bank statement, investments, what-the-fuck-ever. You report in like a good boy, and we'll be cool.”

“Report, report, what report?” He shakes his head.

The last part still isn't making sense. I suppose I've got it in me to help him get it one last time.

“You keep what you need to support your family. Not a penny more. The rest is restitution.”

His eyes narrow, the hatred coming back. “Where? Your greedy ass?”

“No. Even three way split between a widow, a mother who lost her only son, and a sick kid who's graduating high school this year. They're the ones who suffer a hundred times worse than anything we'll ever understand. They're the real victims. You'll pay big to make the rest of their lives comfortable. That's a drop in the fucking bucket for what you owe.”

His gaze drops. Growling, I let him go, stand up, and extend a hand.

It's hell offering to help my worst enemy stand on his own two feet again. Takes a strength like nothing I've ever had. But it's all I've got if I ever want Adam, Zane, and Erik to sleep without spinning in their graves.

It's my last best hope for a normal life with Red, Mia, and her many unborn siblings. A key to a life that doesn't make me want to turn myself inside-out every miserable damn day.

I'm still waiting for the asshole to take my hand.

“You understand me, Jackson? Last and only chance.” The death look returns to my eyes, so hot it makes them throb. I'm not playing games.

He stares me down long and hard before opening his cracked lips. “Yeah, asshole. I do.”

One more raw look and it's over.

Finally.

He staggers to his feet. I help him walk. We shuffle past the beat up machinery, across the snowy expanse, straight by the truck where Red watches us with her sweet mouth hanging open.

I stuff him in his driver's seat. Then I stand, arms folded, a frozen sentinel with my feet iced to the ground. Never move a muscle until he drives away.

I'm secretly hoping I didn't just make the biggest mistake of my life. If this asshole double-crosses me...

But I don't have time to think about that. I just feel two sets of hands embracing my beat up body. Red's long fingers graze my chest and take the pain away. So do Mia's tiny fingers, hugging at my leg.

It's nothing compared to their eyes. There's more questions than I can fathom in my soon-to-be wife and my daughter.

“Marshal?” Red's hold tightens, her soft voice flooding my ears.

“Daddy?” Mia whispers up at me, eyes big, wondering why I look like I've just gotten mauled by a mountain lion.

I put my scratched hand over Sadie's and look Mia in the eye. “Later. I'll tell you everything. We're okay, ladies. Let's go home.”

* * *

“You're sure you won't let me take you to the clinic? I can drive, you know. You should get checked out.” Sadie pushes a sponge soaked in hellfire across my naked back, sanitizing cuts I didn't know I had. The little ones are the worst, and they're everywhere.

I grit my teeth, trying to start a fire inside the wall with my gaze. “I've had worse. It's nothing.”

“If there's any signs of infection, I'm taking you in. No buts.” She moves the sponge over the sink and wrings it out. Then she circles around, kneeling next to me, her soft green eyes a quiet storm. “Never again. You could've died out there, Marshal, and Jackson, too.”

Her lips peck mine. A fresh torture because my kiss is always greedy.

“Not my time,” I growl, throwing my arms around her. “Not his, either. Long as he lives up to his word.”

“He will,” she says, bowing her head. “If he knows what's good for him, he'll listen. Our parents won't like them moving away, but I think dad will realize it's for the best. He knows better than anyone how screwed up Jackson has been for a long time.”

There's pain in her voice. I wish I could take it all away, but there's been so fucking much today.

I just palm her soft cheek, press her face to mine, and kiss her until we taste the end of time.

“Lay with me. I've missed your bed,” she whispers, tugging gently at my fingers.

Nodding, I rise. Something soft and furry brushes past us, squeaking.

Whiskey. I kneel down, grateful to see the old furball for once in my life. He licks his chops, turning his face to my fingers, plumper than ever.

I'd left instructions with a farmer one town over to feed the cat until I could find a way to get him shipped to us. Glad to see he followed through. Even better we won't be having to contemplate the Alaskan cold or the Arizona sun anytime soon.

The cat follows, curling up by my feet, a pleasure I'll allow him just for today.

Screw it, maybe most days.

I don't realize how badly I've missed my bed, too, until I'm flat on my back. Or maybe it's just because I've missed the beauty pressed up next to me so much more.

“There's something I need to tell you...” Red says, a shy heat glowing on her cheeks, even in the darkness.

I look at her, narrowing my eyes. My fingers hook in hers, begging the question.

“Things were really messed up with so much drama going on. I tried to keep everything straight, tried to take my pill like I should...but apparently, the universe had other plans.”

What the fuck is she hinting? It takes my dull, battle weary brain a few solid seconds to get the message. Then the world shifts like a carousel for the third time in one day.

“Jesus,” I whisper, sitting up. “You mean you're...”

“Pregnant.” Red leans into me, nodding faintly.

Several things happen at once.

The pain drains out of my body, despite my bones screaming for rest less than a minute ago.

I can't fight the gnawing urge to put my lips on hers, taste and own and mark the woman who's just told me she's carrying my kid. My second fucking born, and first of many.

She moans into my mouth. I swallow every soft tremor of her sweetness.

My dick goes hard like it's stealing life from the rest of me.

No, I'm not insane. We're too beat up and drained to fuck like we should right now. But damn if crushing her to me in the tightest embrace, kissing her over and over for the next hour, and fingering her engagement ring with my thumb isn't almost as satisfying.

I never thought I'd ever find that with any woman, the electric understanding that's a dimension beyond feral sex.

Until tonight, I never had this certainty, this full freak perception we've found our place. We belong. This time, forever.

Whiskey lets out a squeak at the edge of the bed. Even the damn cat agrees.

* * *

“Dang, Mr. Howard. You're looking boss today. Way to go all sauce-master,” Tony grins and salutes, his not-quite-grown dimples folding in. Hard not to notice how much he looks like his older brother, Zane.

If this wasn't the happiest day of my life, the familiarity in his face would sting like a bastard. So would realizing this high school kid is the closest thing I've got to extended family. Plus a widow from Missouri, and a mother who lost her only son. Closest living thing, I should say.

Hell, I'll take it. Proudly.

He's a good kid, and all three of them are the only people left on earth who can understand what today means.

They've seen me at my worst, even when I was comforting them. There are some things I couldn't hide. The sadness, the angst, the urge to kill ripping my soul in two.

Now, they deserve to see my best. I'm bringing it in droves.

“Thanks, kid. I owe you for giving me a second set of eyes.” I step forward, slapping him on the shoulder. “How's the legs today?”

He smiles sheepishly. “Doc says I'll probably get the braces off before college. Going to Iowa City next year. I'm gonna try for engineering.”

“Good man. Braces or none, you'll pull the ladies. Just keep smiling and be bold.” I give him a reassuring squeeze, letting him know I'm not BSing. “You'll make Zane proud, whatever you do. Just hope I manage to do the same today.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” His face falls to the ground for a second. Mine, too.

It's hard not to think about the ghosts on my wedding day. Avenging Adam, Zane, and Erik is the whole reason I'm here on a sunny spring day. Life's more perfect than it's ever been. I'm truly ready to make my wife the ultimate promise.

When I think of my dead men lately, it's a fleeting sadness.

Nothing will bring them back. But I've made peace with moving on.

The prick, Jackson, has lived up to his word for now. I track every penny coming in or out of his accounts. He paid for Tony's visit to the Mayo Clinic last month, where someone competent finally fixed his legs.

Sadie says his marriage is on the rocks. Ginger stays in touch and talks an awful lot about leaving. But the baby who has a few more months before being born won't let her make any hasty decisions.

I don't care, whatever works best for her, and keeps asshole's money going where it should.

I've kept my eye on the checks rolling in to Bev and Mrs. Folwell, too. So far, so good. It's live and let live, never mind the little voice inside me that wants to take a spontaneous trip to where they've resettled in Maine, and break his face all over again.

Thankfully, I'm a million miles from those thoughts today. I escort Tony out of the dressing room, pointing him upstairs to the main deck, where we'll have our ceremony.

The steamboat I've rented out for our wedding is one of the finest on the Mississippi. So big it easily accommodates our small guest list. Also gives Mia something to scream happily about. I've promised her a river boat ride forever.

It's a hell of a day to deliver.

I watch Tony walk off and take his seat. In another half hour, I'll be hearing music, watching my blushing bride walking down the aisle. Trying like mad to control the incessant throb in my balls the whole time.

“Ah, there you are. I've been looking.” A familiar voice. I whip around and see Stephanie Kelley standing there. She looks healthier than ever. Her eyes are just eccentric, not crazy.

A shot of panic shoots through my veins. “Shit, Sadie isn't around, is she? It's bad luck to see her before our vows.”

“No worries, my superstitious beast. She's safely down the hall with Peter, who can't wait to walk her down the aisle.”

Sweet relief. “You need help finding your seat?”

“It's right where I left it, I'm sure.” She smiles, moving closer, a drink in her hand. Looks like she's started the reception early. “There's one more thing I added to the décor today. Truly hope you appreciate it, son.” Of course she stresses the last word. It wouldn't be her otherwise.

It's so fucking weird, hearing those words from her mouth, knowing my own mother has been dead for the better part of a decade. But I'd better get used to them. “It's stunning, Mrs. Kelley. I love the white ribbons everywhere. Birch, too. Think Mark Twain in his Sunday finest would approve.”

“Well, our centerpiece is slightly darker, but I trust you'll take it as a compliment. I managed to save it before my time at the funny farm. The finishing touches are recent. Come.” She grabs my hand and tugs me down the hall.

At the back end of the ship, there's a huge sheet tossed over what has to be a painting. Her eyes nudge me onward, imploring. Go. Look. Wonder.

This better be good.

Taking a deep breath, I step forward, and rip the cover off. “Fuck me,” I whisper.

It's...not the kind of immortality I ever hoped for. But it's very good.

I recognize my likeness perched on the same chair where I used to sit with her, a French bulldog in one arm, and honeybee in the other. My daughter anchors the light. I can practically hear the giggle through her crooked smile.

There's a familiar shadow across my face. Same angst-ridden darkness that used to stare out at me in the mirror every damn day.

Except it isn't so bad anymore. Not with the light in my eyes. Or with the other focal point in the painting, the most ravishing image of a smiling Red ever put to canvass, her little hand on my shoulder.

“Amazing job, Mrs. Kelley. Let me flag down somebody to get this upstairs.”

Happy relief swells in her eyes. “Good. I wanted to do you justice.”

I look back over my shoulder one more time. The painting is a study in contrasts if there ever was one. Slowly, I nod, giving her another smile. “With all due respect, fuck justice, Mrs. Kelley. This is perfection. I'm finally seeing myself through the eyes of someone who gets it.”

* * *

“...kiss the bride.”

The pastor's words ring through my skull like the opening shot at a horse track.

Finally. I'm free to ravish my new wife, and it's hard not to do it in front of the several dozen people in our audience.

They're clapping, laughing, cheering. I open my eyes for a second just to see Mia. She's on Mrs. Folwell's lap. Her eyes connect with mine and her grin doubles, broad and bright and beautiful.

She's small, but she understands.

You've got yourself a family now, honeybee. We're whole. And so am I.

Fuck, I don't think I'll ever get the taste of Red off my lips after today. That's a mighty good problem to have.

My tongue plunges into her mouth over and over, taking control. The tears streaming down her cheeks melt in a soft moan. My hand cups her ass. A subtle squeeze promises every dirty, wild thing I've had running through my head for days, since we took a premarital break from sex.

That isn't even why my balls are turning blue.

She's always beautiful, but today? Right now?

My woman's a goddamn knockout.

First time I saw her decked in that white lacy thing, cinnamon-red hair spilling out behind her veil, my heart swelled with pride and wonder. Then my dick took over, and the urge to rip it off her like a dog tearing open a butcher's bag hasn't faded since.

“I love you, Marshal,” she whispers, words totally silent over the applause exploding around us.

“Darling, it's forever. If I had to condense the love I've got for you into now, Red, I'd fucking die.”

The steamship blows its horn. We're in motion just as planned the instant our vows are over. I plant her feet firmly on the ground again and stroll the aisle, heading into the main cabin where dinner and drinks are waiting. It's a four hour cruise, ample time to take in the evening sights and catch up with the people close to us.

So, this is what it's like being a married man. A full grin splits my lips while we slip past the throng of people trying to stop us to shake hands or embrace. Everyone's too happy, too impatient to wait for the reception.

We're both lost in the scene. There are Sadie's parents, looking happier than I expect. Her old man needs more time than Stephanie to come around, but I'm confident he will. Deep down, he's just glad to have a family again, without the evil in his son tainting it.

My new mother-in-law gives me a knowing glance. I follow her eyes. Her huge work of art is hung neat outside the door leading inside the ship's cabin. I'll hear plenty of praise and chatter about it later, I'm sure.

The smiles on Bev, Tony, and Mrs. Folwell are conflicted. They're happy for me, but they also understand what it's taken to get here, and what they'll never see from their own flesh and blood.

I slow when we're just a few steps from heading inside. The back row of seats is supposed to empty.

Red notices, matches my pace, and squeezes my fingers. Happy green eyes search mine. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” I whisper quietly. It takes another second to really believe it. “Honestly, never been better.”

We trade another quick smile. Then a kiss that lasts far longer.

I fucking love my wife's lips.

She'll also never know the reason I froze up like an idiot. That part is my little secret.

For several seconds, I swear I saw something in those empty seats that shouldn't have been there. Three faces I'll never forget in their desert camo, smiling, wishing me the best, finally at rest.

I'm not about to start believing in ghosts one way or another.

Still, something tells me they won't be troubling my head anymore.

* * *

“Such an amazing time. Everything I ever hoped for.” Even on the ride home, Red can't stop smiling.

I give Red a look she knows, reaching for her hand. “Everything?”

“Marshal!” She bats her eyes and punches me softly in the arm. “Later. Let's not wake honeybee.”

She isn't wrong. My little girl is completely tuckered out from the excitement, snoozing in her seat.

Where the hell does the time go?

I've spent four incredible hours sipping champagne, feasting, and going through a whirlwind of introductions to her college friends and obscure cousins. I'm ready to turn in with a whiskey sour and a little quiet, but damn if it wasn't fun.

It wasn't the biggest wedding, or the fanciest, or the kind we'll watch on a screen years from now, wondering where the hell our youth and fire went.

Exactly how it should be. This isn't the bookend of our lives.

This is our beginning.

From here, it gets better. That's the real promise I made the second I growled the words, “I do.”

After tonight, it's forever, and it's ours.

Every kiss, every squeeze, every fuck, every sideways glance.

Every late night run for whatever she's craving, pregnant and happy.

Every tear, every disappointment, every time we pull back from the brink, remembering how deep this love goes.

Every. Damn. Thing.

Tonight, this woman becomes mine in whole. Won't let my head hit the pillow before I've claimed her totality, and then some.

I'm glad winter is just a memory. Makes it easy after I pull in, park my truck, and carry my beautiful bride across the threshold. We pause in the kitchen, stealing one more kiss, before I head back outside for honeybee.

“Upstairs,” I whisper, giving Red a wink, careful not to wake the sleepy girl in my arms. “Let's put her to bed first.”

Red holds my hand while we head into honeybee's room. I lay my little girl down, switch her lamp on its lowest setting, and pick up the book. It's the stories I've read her a hundred times. She won't miss anything if she's truly out.

Red's fingers tighten on my shoulder. I stare into her curious eyes. “Have a seat. Ritual, darling.”

And it is.

Reading to my little girl keeps me grounded. Lets her know I'll always be there, no matter how much life changes, or how many new additions our family adds.

She's got a big year ahead. A new mama, and a little sibling on the way.

My eyes flick to Red's belly anxiously, wondering if I'll have a son or another precious girl. Whatever it is, I'm ready.

I break open the book, holding Sadie's hand, and read her a silly poem about the moon. Can't remember where the legend comes from, but damn if it isn't powerful.

Once, there was darkness. The moon didn't glow until it had a visit from the maiden of light, sent by the sun. She knew exactly how to wipe away the darkness. Her kiss breathed light into the void – the same spark that's shared down in the eyes of every child on earth, whenever they look up on long clear nights.

Red's grip tightens on mine the more I read. There's a lot of pretty language in between, a few lines that are downright scandalous for a kid's book, describing the moon kiss.

Good thing it's just us who hear it. I'm being eaten alive every second by hot green eyes.

I'm so fucking ready to carry them to bed.

“Here, darling. You do the honors. Read the last line...” I pass the book, sliding an arm around her shoulder.

“And all this because the sun maiden shared her happy kiss, her light. The moon grew full, and he shared his light, too. Every time the earth looked up, it trembled, no longer lost, alone, or afraid in the dark.” She closes it slowly, giving me a soft smile.

Goddamn, she still looks ravishing in white. I put the book on the nightstand, flick out the light, and lead her by the hand into the hall.

I'm about to close the door when there's a soft, tiny murmur from the bed. “So happy, daddy. Like you happy. Make mama stay.”

I stop and stare. Totally off guard. Slowly, I turn, wondering if Red just heard what I did.

Red lays her soft, warm cheek against my neck, whispering into the room. “I'm here for good, honeybee. Here, with daddy, is where I'll always stay.”

Smiling, her door clicks shut, and then we disappear behind ours. We'll have a proper honeymoon in Florida next week. I've promised my little girl manatee time, fresh OJ, and plenty of sun. Maybe even a Disney trip.

All the things that make up heaven after a life changing winter.

Of course, my patience is wearing thin. I've never had it in heaping quantities to begin with. I'm not waiting for our flight on Monday, or for the swanky hotel I've reserved on the ocean, to consummate this marriage.

Tonight, I'm carrying my wife, my woman, my love straight to the sky.

I'm taking her just like the moon in that story, basking in her light, and wrapping every steel inch of me in pink perfection.