“The rules say that every band member has to do at least one vocal.” Finn shook his head in disbelief as he read off the paper.

Reacting as one, Alex, Parker, and Finn turned in unison to stare at their bass player.

Berger was sitting on a stack of crates, playing a handheld Nintendo, and maniacally chuckling to himself.

“As band leader”—Parker sniggered—“I’ll just say what you’re all thinking. We’re fucked.”

Crossing his arms and exhaling harshly, Alex leaned against the wall at his back and contemplated the situation facing Desert Thunder. Parker was probably right. They were fucked, but Alex pointed out that they hadn’t come this far to have one stupid rule slow their roll. Come hell or high fucking water, Thunder intended to win the band challenge.

He smiled, thinking about the ridiculous competition they were engaged in with those shithead fuckers the Chixie Dicks. Thunder was the better group, by far, but the competition was more carnival than battle of the bands. Right now, though, his band mates were focused on the problem at hand.

What to do about Berger.

In his brain, he pictured himself, Parker, and Finn dressed as nuns, singing “How Do We Solve a Problem Like Berger?”

“Pud whacker, yo!” Parker barked to get Berger’s attention. The clapping hands and loud, obnoxious whistle struck Alex’s funny bone. It was as if he was calling a dog.

Showing reluctant body language, Berger put down his game and gave Parker a withering stare.

The commanding lawyer held up his phone. “Text me your head dance song.”

“What the fuck is that?” Finn murmured.

Parker answered from the side of his mouth and nearly put Alex on the floor in stitches with the theatrics of how they all dealt with Berger.

“Shut up. I’ll tell you later. Just follow my lead.”

Finn quietly growled. “If you weren’t a fucking lawyer, I’d smack you every time you pull this I’m the lead crap.”

“Suck my dick, Beantown.”

Parker’s phone buzzed. He looked at it. “Incoming. Cool.” It was the usual iPhone routine. The home screen followed by tapping the message icon. Then he looked up, signaled to Berger that he got it, and nodded.

“Boys, we got this. Leave it to me.”

Alex snorted. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah. Now be cool. Don’t spook the little bastard. You know how he gets.”

“Time to rock,” Finn drawled. He didn’t wait for them to concur. He simply strapped on his guitar and looked at them. “What the fuck are you waiting for?”

Reaching for his sticks, Alex told Parker, “I’ve got some new moves.”

“Oh, Jesus.” His old friend smirked. “The drumstick twirl is so 80s.”

“Shut up,” he snarled through a laugh.

Berger took his spot and said … nothing. Whatever song they chose, he would rock the fuck out of. No conversation necessary.

“Finn! Your call, man,” Alex boomed.

“Oh shit, really? Well, fuck. I’ve been practicing my David Lee Roth.”

Smacking his hefty drumsticks, Alex counted out, and they ripped through a raucous and totally theatrical rendition of “Dance the Night Away.” Finn wasn’t shitting that he’d been working on his act. Jesus Christ. He was balls out channeling Diamond Dave right down to the lewd gyrations and overblown stage presence.

The battle of the bands was serious business. Parker would be impossible to live with if they didn’t win, so he and Finn were doing their part by practicing and tightening their performance.

It was fucking hilarious. Berger tore the bass part up! Parker could mimic Eddie Van Halen in his sleep, and for his part, Alex had no problem paying drum-thumping respect to the guy he shares a first name with name, Alex Van Halen.

After a few more songs, Finn indicated he had to get a move on. The last-minute prep for his weeklong extravaganza at Pete’s was weighing heavily on his time. They were lucky to have held him here today for so long.

In the blink of an eye, Berger was gone. Alex and Parker walked to a window where they could see the parking area. His car was gone too.

“Okay, so explain the head dance song.”

“Come on,” Parker said with a slap on Alex’s arm. “Let’s get something to drink and I’ll fill you in.”

They dragged two wood chairs close to an empty upside-down crate and pulled open the door to a small fridge to check out the options.

“That nasty coconut water, some organic juice, two cans of V-8, some water, of course, plus a couple of sodas and a pitcher of iced tea. Don’t know about you,” Parker mumbled, “but I’m going with a soda. Angie banned all Coke products from our kitchen. I was a wise ass and countered with Pepsi. She wasn’t amused.”

Knowing his little sister the way he did, Alex was sure that she was driving her husband up the wall with her pregnancy mood swings. The girl was a whack-a-doodle where Parker was concerned to begin with, but add gestating his kid? Angie was charting new territory these days.

Relaxing with their drinks, Alex looked around at the makeshift practice studio. His drum studio was fine for small jams, but a full setup with all of them together required space. Space that was out of earshot.

As it so often did, the sprawling barn housing the tack rooms and stable storage offered up the perfect space. At the back of the building in a corner behind the laundry room with the commercial washers and dryers they used for blankets to towels and everything imaginable in between, there was a partially empty storage room with a door to the outside. It wasn’t fancy and was definitely an uninspiring space, but that just made it perfect for Thunder.

He sipped his drink and looked at Parker. “Tell me again how you even know that weird little guy.”

“He sold me a vacuum.”

“What?” Alex laughed.

“Yeah,” Parker continued. “Traveling salesman. Knocked on my door one day and sold me the best vacuum I’ve ever had.”

He stared a hole through his friend’s head and considered this amusing fairy tale.

“Sorry. No can do. Not right now, man. Tell me what you know.”

“Alex. You have your secrets, and I have mine. How I know Berger is irrelevant. He’s one of us, and by that, I mean one of the good guys. I can tell you this to answer your question. At a party my firm threw a few years back, he got shitfaced and did a Talking Heads style dance to an oldie. It was fucking fantastic. Props, the whole deal. The guy can perform, but he’s a little off as you’ve probably noticed.”

“Yeah, that’s what worries me.”

Parker snorted. “Don’t worry, man. Berger was carefully vetted. Cam dug like a motherfucker into the man’s life. When Berger noticed his digital footprint, he turned up with the results of his last proctology exam.”

“Why am I just hearing this now?”

“Most likely because Jason didn’t enjoy being caught red-handed.”

“Oh.” He could understand that. Nothing irked Alex more than being wrong about something. Wrong about anything. Jason would be the same way about his supernatural abilities.

Something Parker said about keeping secrets rang a bell in Alex’s head. He needed information from Parker that his old friend would not give up without a fight. In the current scheme of things, they didn’t have time for a protracted skirmish about confidentiality, oaths, and shit like that, so he’d been working on a plan in his head for a way to force the issue.

“Before I forget, men’s night coming up. Steak, cigars, Port.”

“Cheesecake?” Parker teased but with a decidedly hopeful sound.

“Whatever you want.” Alex scoffed. “That’s the thing about men’s night. It’s like my dad says, no women and no edicts during men’s night.”

“Ah”—Parker snickered—“new rule. Husband stuff. Got it.”

They clinked beverages and laughed.

“Hey. I almost forgot. Meghan needs your costume confirmation for the parade. What’s it going to be, counselor?”

“Remy came up with the perfect solution because your sister wasn’t down with any of the pregnant dress-up options.”

Alex nodded and understood what his friend was getting at. His sister was remarkably modest about showing off her bump. He looked at his friend and had a blinding realization. Parker was the one who didn’t want their baby belly exposed.

Fascinating.

“We’re going as a bowling ball and pin. I’m the pin, obviously.”

“Clever bastard,” Alex taunted.

“Hey. It’s why you pay me the big bucks.”

“Listen,” he said after finishing his drink. “I’m heading out. My lovely wife took the twins to the yoga studio. She’s got a photography thing set up. Taking fall photos of all the kids.”

“Junior Justice.” Parker chuckled.

“Indeed,” he replied in an amused drawl. “Keeps her out of trouble and close to home. She and Cam are competing to see who is the most annoying with a camera. Speaking of which, you’ll be getting a memo soon, if you haven’t already. Family portrait. Christmas cards. Mandatory,” he added.

“When Red snaps her fingers, we all jump and salute. I’m not kidding,” Parker insisted when Alex laughed.

“I’m glad you see it that way,” he admitted. “Makes my life easier if I don’t have to beg all of you fuckers to behave around my wife.”

“You’re a lucky bastard, Alex. Meghan is your perfect counterpart. The fates done good with you two.” Parker’s teasing laugh and cheeky wording made for easy smiles.

“Back atcha,” he pointedly drawled. “You and Angie are the definition of the fates at work.”

“I can’t fucking wait to be a father. All these months, the buildup, it’s insane.”

“How many weeks are left?” He did some quick math. “Six? So, a month and a half.”

“December fifteenth. It’s all I think about. Angie, the baby, Christmas.”

Alex chuckled. “Better buckle up, man. Sounds to me like you should be ready for anything!”

Heather was laughing so much her face started to ache. She and Bella were playfully posing in Meghan’s makeshift photo studio while acting like rambunctious children. Their costumes added to the frivolity.

She was decked out in full Glinda the good witch regalia while sweet Bella Mia was head-to-toe Dorothy. Right down to the flamboyant and sparkling red shoes. This year, it was all about the Mommy and Me theme for the Jensen family. Daddy got second billing as a plausible scarecrow.

“Aunt Meghan,” Bella squealed. “Look!”

Her daughter was hugging Georgie. Around the dog’s neck was a hastily fashioned collar that read Toto. He was such a good-natured pup and put up with a lot.

Meghan was enjoying her stint as the family photographer. She went all out for the fall-themed photo backdrop that included lighting and props. The pictures were last minute, and because of everyone’s crazy schedules, she hadn’t been able to get a group shot yet.

“Did you get the memo about the Christmas cards? We’ll do it right after the Halloween Spooktacular—before the Danes and the Camerons jet off to Colorado.”

“Got it,” Heather told her. “And I put it in Brody’s calendar so he doesn’t forget. Did I read the directions right? You want everyone dressed the same?”

“That’s right,” Red chirped. “Men in white shirts, preferably clean shaven although I realize I’m fooling myself if I think that’s going to happen.”

“And the ladies?” Heather asked.

“Red and white. I gave it a lot of thought. Not everyone finds green a friendly color, but all of us will photograph well in red.”

“Ooh, I like. What about you, Bella? Shall we find something red and flashy for Aunt Meghan’s family portrait?”

“I have red shoes,” the clever little girl pointed out as she clicked her heels together.

She and Meghan looked at each other and snickered. Though Bella would only be seven in a few short weeks, the darling child was already rocking the Justice ladies’ penchant for footwear. And not just sneakers, although she had a bunch of them in her closet.

“Honey,” Meghan teased, “the shoes rock, but I think what your mom means is like a pretty sweater or a Christmas-y blouse.”

“Can I put red ribbons in my hair?”

“Sure, sweetie. Whatever you want.”

Heather grinned when Bella as Dorothy morphed into her role as the Family Justice lil Captain.

“And Molly. Will she be there?”

Meghan bit back a smirk. Bella had a charming and sometimes shocking way of challenging adults.

Red answered with a raft of details to head the inquisitive child off at the pass.

“Yes, Molly and Mr. Dallas will be in the picture. I haven’t decided about the pets yet, but it’s a fair guess that they’ll be included.”

“So Finn and FiFi?”

“Yep.”

“And FiFi should wear red?”

“Okay.” Meghan laughed. “But wait, Bella Mia, there’s more. Should I tell her our secret, Mom?” she asked with raised brows and a wink.

Heather gave the question no thought because keeping secrets from kids was exhausting. “Have at it, double M.”

“What?” Bella asked.

Meghan bent and cupped a hand to Dorothy’s ear. Heather didn’t know exactly what she whispered, but Bella’s incandescent explosion of sheer joy was the result of Meghan’s confirmation that the Bishops were coming to Bendover for Finn’s Spooktacular event. Matty would be in town for Halloween and was going to stick around for a few days because of Justice business and to be in Meghan’s official Justice family portrait.

How they managed to keep it hush-hush for so long was a quirk of luck. Bella and Matty FaceTimed frequently. It was a miracle that Kelly and Roman had kept the upcoming trip to Bendover from the boy.

“Matty’s coming, Georgie,” she squealed. “Matty’s coming, yay!”

Heather smiled as her daughter danced around the yoga studio with Georgie. Meghan stroked her arm, and quietly asked, “She’s all right then? Alex and I have been concerned.”

Drawing her friend into a corner and pretending to look at cameras while Bella did her thing, she quickly answered.

“Well, Kelly Anne never leaves her bedroom.”

“Never? Like, at all?”

Heather shared Meghan’s concern. “No. Never. Brody is worried that she’s showing signs of stress. And I don’t think he means present-day stress.” She lowered her voice to a near whisper. “I overheard her telling Georgie that the doll was kidnapped. What six-year-old knows about things like that?” She looked at Bella across the room and sighed. “I haven’t told him my professional opinion.”

“Oh, shit,” Meghan murmured. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“It’s not,” she admitted. “Look, at no point since Brody and Cam rescued her from that damn compound of crazies has she spoken about her obvious trauma. She acts out but doesn’t articulate. The night-lights and open doors. The thing with cutting her hair.”

“And she’s overly protective of the younglings, especially the boys.”

“Right,” Heather sadly agreed. “There’s stuff in her head that hasn’t come out yet. But it will. That kind of stuff always rears its ugly head eventually.”

“Please don’t be upset by this question, okay?”

Heather didn’t have to wonder what Meghan was going to ask. It was the first question she and Brody wanted answered after Bella came home.

“She wasn’t abused in any way, was she? Like, physically?” The horror in Meghan’s voice made Heather shudder.

“No. Thank god. Not the way you mean. Yes, she was neglected, and as you know, neglect is a powerful and damaging form of abuse. But as far as we can tell, she was singled out for a sort of protected status. Her birth mother was with one of the ringleaders of the cult-like group, so for the most part, she was off everyone’s radar. The team of doctors who went over her with a thoroughness that was eye-opening found evidence of a broken arm that she doesn’t remember and rather pointedly told us she’d never seen a dentist and that we should take care of that right away. It’s a miracle we found her at all. She’s been through so much, and I’m afraid that the business with Kelly Anne triggered something. We’ll just have to wait and see.”