When he slid out the bed, Renzo figured Low was asleep. He’d gotten dressed and was pulling on black gloves when he glanced down and noticed Low gazing up at him with sleepy eyes.

“I have to go,” he said plainly. The violence that lit up his blood before had been tamped down with Low’s touch. But it was back now, and he welcomed it, rolling his neck until the tendons cracked. “What happened tonight, I need to deal with it.”

There was nothing as terrifying as watching a bullet fly close enough to the person you love. Nothing like watching them bleed. He still didn’t know how he managed to keep his fear and rage under wraps when that son of a bitch stuck his gun to Low’s temple.

Two gun men. Timothy Groves and one of his childhood friends, Chris Anders. He’d put a bullet between Anders’ eyes for daring to even think about hurting Low, while Dax managed to wound Groves on the shootout. But now, Renzo knew where he was. His guys followed Groves when he made his getaway. As much as Renzo had wanted to chase down that fucker, he had to focus on Low.

Low, whose screams would not stop echoing in Renzo’s ears. And why should it?

It was Renzo’s fault. He’d brought this on them. Now, it was his job to handle it. He snapped the gloves into place. He fucking would.

“If I ask, will you tell me?” Low sat up, the covers falling to just under his hip bone, exposing everything that belonged to Renzo. Enticing him to strip and crawl back onto that bed. To lose himself in the numbing pleasure he’d come to crave.

Low had questions and he deserved the truth. Renzo had made him a promise and he would never go back on it. “Ask me and I will. Always.”

Low just watched him, gorgeously naked in his bed. That burn from the bullet on his cheek. Renzo clenched his jaw and fisted his hands. He didn’t like feeling helpless and watching Low hurt, unable to do anything about it was a special kind of torture.

“You’ll come home to me?”

Two strides brought Renzo back to the bed. He dropped to his knees, cupping Low’s jaw, pulling him close. “I will always, always, come home to you.” It was a hard and ferocious promise. “Always.” Nothing and no one would ever keep him away.

“Okay.” Low pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Be careful.”

Renzo kept him close when he tried to move back. “I love you. That isn’t up for debate or question. I will protect you,” he vowed in a harsh whisper. “I will protect us. Any means necessary. Do you understand me?”

“Yes.”

Renzo searched his gaze, finding nothing but love and acceptance. Understanding, too. His heart chose well when it chose this man. “Good.” One last kiss and he got to his feet reluctantly. “I called Dax so he and Deacon will be with you, but I won’t be long. I promise.”

Low nodded and after one last, long look, Renzo walked out their bedroom and made his way downstairs. He found Deacon stretched out on the couch.

“Where’s Dax?”

Deacon pointed out at the back patio where Dax stood as a silent sentry, gun in hand.

“Thank you for tonight,” he told Deacon. “For watching out for Low. I owe you one.”

“Nah.” Deacon shrugged. “He’s yours, means he’s ours.”

He dipped his head in acknowledgement then turned away. Out on the patio he met Dax’s eyes.

“Renzo, shit. I’m sorry, man.”

He frowned. “For what?”

“I got distracted.” Dax rubbed a hand over his head. “I should have been there, I should have seen Groves.” His gaze flicked past Renzo to the house, no doubt eyeing his brother. “It’s my fault.”

Renzo sighed. “Dax, I can’t deal with your guilt and mine at the same time. Neither of us saw Groves coming because we didn’t consider him a threat to us.” After stripping the man of everything he had, they should have. Renzo should have seen it. It was on him. Low’s trauma was on his head. “I love you and Deacon, but right now I’m trusting you two with the single most important person in my life.”

“Let me come with you.” Dax grabbed Renzo’s shoulder. “Deacon’s got Low covered.”

“No.” Renzo gave him his back. “Nothing is more important than Low right now, so I need the two of you on him. I’ll handle Groves. He’s my problem to fix.”

“Damn it, Renzo.” Dax rushed after him. “I don’t like you doing this shit alone. We don’t know what you’ll be walking into.”

“Whatever it is, I’ll handle it.” He walked away and got into his SUV haphazardly parked outside the garage, half in the driveway, half on the manicured lawn. His phone rang just as the mechanical gate went up. He frowned at the unknown number.

“Renzo Vega.”

“This would be the part where I tell you to stay home and take care of your man.”

“Syren?” He drove through the gate and onto Lavista Road. “What the fuck?”

“You sure you want to do what you’re about to do?”

Christ. Renzo shook his head as he waited for traffic to let him through. “Do I even want to know how you know what’s going on?”

“I’m a resourceful kinda guy. This Timothy Groves, he’s not worth your time.”

The fuck? “He almost shot Low. His friend held him at gunpoint. He’s more than earned my time.”

Syren sighed heavily in his ear. “So I can’t talk you out of this?”

“Fuck no.”

“Good. Look to your left, right side of the street.”

Renzo did. A vehicle’s headlights flashed once. Twice. “What the hell?”

“That’s me.”

Renzo pulled up alongside a familiar Mercedes with blacked out windows. The front driver’s side window rolled down and Syren waved.

“What are you doing?” Renzo gaped at him.

“I told you—” The call ended as Syren got out of his vehicle and hopped into Renzo’s car, settling back with a satisfied smirk. “You need help, I’m here.” He buckled his seatbelt then clapped his hands once. “Let’s do this.”

Renzo moved on autopilot, stunned speechless.

“I heard about what happened at the club,” Syren continued speaking. “Figured you’d need assistance.”

“What kind of assistance do you think I need?” Renzo found his tongue. “I can handle this.”

“But you don’t have to.” Syren blew out a breath. “You can thank me anytime.”

“You left your family, your brand new baby, at home to come and help me?” It didn’t make any sense.

“I’m here because you’re my brother and I will do anything for you.”

Renzo gripped the steering wheel tighter and kept his mouth shut. Syren Rua wasn’t someone he understood and trying would only give him a headache. Instead, he ignored the man next to him and concentrated on driving.

His guys followed Groves to his ex-girlfriend’s home on Killian Hills Road in Lilburn, so Renzo headed in that direction. He didn’t know how he felt about Syren’s company. Suddenly the man was in his life and Renzo had to find a way to make him fit, because apparently Syren wasn’t going anywhere.

“You’re a federal agent,” Syren said. As if Renzo didn’t know. “You’re just going to walk up to Groves and shoot him? In the midst of witnesses?”

Renzo shot him a glare. “How do you know where he is?”

Syren smiled. “Like I said, resources.”

“Let me worry about Groves.”

“Why?” Syren twisted in his seat, seatbelt stretching when he faced Renzo. “Let me do this for you. I owe you one. Let me handle this for you so you can go back to that gorgeous man of yours.” He paused. “I like his eyes, did I tell you that yet? So expressive.”

“You’ve met Low?”

“Have I?” Syren shrugged. “I do not recall.”

He wanted to be angry, but Renzo couldn’t stop a small smile from spreading. “You’re as impossible as I remember.”

“I know.” Syren nodded, pretty face turning solemn quickly. “But I’m serious. Fixing messes—and causing them—is what I do. Let me help you with this. You get what you want without spilling any blood. You can go back to your man with clean hands.”

“My man doesn’t care about the state of my hands.”

“Then you’ve found the right one.”

They rode the rest of the way in silence, until Renzo pulled up in front of his destination. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, then released it with a sigh. Truth was, he’d prefer to be with Low. He’d prefer to be curled up with his lover. He’d prefer to be anywhere else but here.

“Okay.” He jerked his chin in Syren’s direction. “Do your thing.”

If he was surprised by Renzo’s concession, Syren didn’t show it. Instead, he opened his door and exited the vehicle, walking up to the house shrouded in darkness. The front door was closed. But Syren pushed it open and simply walked in as if it was his place. Renzo shook his head.

He didn’t even know why he was surprised, except he was.

Syren flicked on the lights and there, in the middle of his ex-girlfriend’s living room was Timothy Groves. Eyes open, a bullet hole in his right temple and a Glock on the floor near his right hand.

“Let me guess…” Renzo glared at Syren. “Your handiwork?”

“Mr. Groves had many demons. Who knows what made him finally snap and take his own life?”

Renzo barely refrained from rolling his eyes. “The ex-girlfriend?”

“On a beach in Hawaii with her new girlfriend. Been gone a week.” Syren pulled a phone from his coat and pressed it to his ear. “Make the call,” he spoke into the phone. “Thanks.” He hung up and turned to Renzo. “Cops will be getting a call about a gunshot in about a minute.”

“Just like that, huh?”

Syren grinned. Fuck. “Exactly like that.”

They left the way they came, the radio the only sound in the car. He should have been the one to pull the trigger after what Groves and his friend put Low through, but Renzo didn’t care. As long as Groves was no longer a problem. After a lengthy silence, Syren told Renzo his IT guy would scrub the security cameras for any traces of their visit. He didn’t know how Syren knew he’d say yes to the assist and Renzo didn’t bother asking. He’d always known that Syren was a man with a whole lotta reach. Guess it was his turn to watch it in action.

An hour after he left, as the sun started to lighten up the sky, he pulled up to Syren’s car parked on the street near Renzo’s place.

“I suppose now you expect me to call you family?”

“Expect? No.” Syren shook his head then brushed the hair out of his right eye. “Hope? Yes. A whole lot of hope. I lost you once, Renzo. And that was my fault.”

“I forgive you.” It wasn’t good or easy walking around with all that resentment. It cost him nothing to forgive Syren.

Syren touched his shoulder. “I want you to be happy. I want you to have a chance at the life you and I dreamt of inside that cold dark cell.”

Renzo stared out at the empty street. “What about you, are you happy?”

Syren snorted. “I haven’t slept—I mean really slept—in I can’t remember how long. My permanent state of smell nowadays is baby vomit, and my husband is already talking about number four. That shit is not happening, by the way.” He paused. “But yes,” he said softly. “I am so happy, it hurts sometimes.”

Renzo nodded, because he understood that kind of happiness. He got it now, wanting to do anything, everything, to keep that feeling.

“I took care of Stavros,” Syren told him. “He’s not someone you’ll have to worry about ever again, I promise you that.”

Renzo sat back heavily and stared at him. “What did you do?” Did he want to know?

Syren simply shrugged. “I spoke to Stavros in a language he understands…” He narrowed his eyes. “Even though you haven’t told me what you did with the woman. Tennyson, right? You killed her?”

Renzo didn’t answer, leaving him to conclude whatever he wanted from that.

“I’m retiring,” Syren continued.

Renzo’s eye widened and Syren watched him with a rueful smile.

Syren Rua, retired?

“I stayed in the game this long for you. My husband is a fucking saint, and my children deserve medals for putting up with this life of mine.” Syren shook his head. “What they need is for me to be there. So I will be. We’re moving permanently to Costa Rica in a month. And I will be simply Kane’s husband and my children’s papa.” His eyes gleamed. “Those titles are the only ones I want.”

Renzo stared at him. He couldn’t imagine Syren not being the larger than life presence that he was. Way before he’d shown his face in Renzo’s office, his reputation had loomed large. “I’m happy for you,” he choked out. “You deserve that.”

“And you deserve the man waiting for you inside that house.” Syren pointed to Renzo’s house barely visible through the large trees. “You deserve this life. You deserve to have anything and everything you desire.” His gaze turned somber. “Before you found him in Chicago, I already knew Monster’s true identity, but I couldn’t do what needed to be done. I couldn’t face him.” His face expression crumbled as his emotions rose to the surface. But just as quickly they disappeared and his features smoothed out. “So thank you for doing that. You didn’t know it, but you made it easier for me to sleep at night.”

Renzo grabbed the hand Syren put on his shoulder and urged the smaller man closer, into a hug. He squeezed his eyes shut, holding on to Syren. For the first time, he realized Syren’s presence hadn’t bombarded him with those heartbreaking memories.

“Thank you,” he whispered into the quiet interior of the SUV. “Thank you for being my partner in that place. Thank you for watching out for me. Thank you for tonight.”

“Always.” Syren’s lips brushed his temple. “Always.” He pulled back, blinking furiously. “Have you ever been to Costa Rica?” He smiled as he gripped the door handle. “You should visit sometime, bring your Low. I think you’ll like it.” He got out before Renzo could respond.

He probably would have said maybe.

Not an outright no.

He found himself smiling as he watched Syren drive off. Then he made his way home. After parking in the driveway, he strode inside, past Dax and Deacon curled into each other on the couch. Dax lifted his head, and an eyebrow, when their eyes met.

Renzo nodded and Dax responded in kind before turning into Deacon’s embrace. Those two fought more than they didn’t, but when they were like this, they were beautiful to watch.

Upstairs, he stood for a second watching Low sleep. That beautiful man was his. Low loved him. Renzo loved him back. They’d be okay, Renzo would make sure of it. In the coming days, he planned to resign from the FBI. It was time. He was also seriously thinking about seeing someone, a therapist, for the many issues he had. He owed himself—and Low—that chance. He’d talk to Low about it in the morning.

But tonight?

He stripped down to his boxers and got in bed with Low, who came awake with a grunt when Renzo pressed against him.

“Hey.” Low blinked up at him.

“Hey, baby.” Renzo nosed his throat.

“You handled it?”

He nodded. “It’s handled. Go back to sleep.”

Fingers slid through his hair, tugging his head up to meet Low’s sleep-filled stare. “You’re okay?”

“Are you?”

“Perfect.” Low sighed when Renzo settled his head on his chest. “I’m perfect,” Low mumbled.

So warm. “Then yes, I’m okay.”

Fingers sifted through his hair, scraped his scalp. “I love you.”

Renzo exhaled. “I love you.” He snuggled into Low’s embrace.

The lights?

They stayed off.