Guys! This is the last chapter! OMG! Don't worry though, there will be an epilogue.
Chapter 27
Carlos pulled the Porsche into the handicapped space in the school's parking lot and turned to face his wife who had already begun the process of exiting the vehicle by opening the door and unlatching her seatbelt. She appeared much more relax than she had that morning, and more relaxed than had ever been possible after a visit to her parent's house.
He could tell she was tired, though.
He was so proud of the progress she had made in the short time she had been home, but it was obvious to him that this morning's efforts had taken a greater toll on her than he had first realised.
Stephanie, having been denied the opportunity to walk back down the internal stairs of the Plum residence, had insisted on proving – to herself, mostly, she'd confessed to him just moments ago – that she was capable of the task. It had taken a good three minutes for her to descend the five steps. Each step required a great deal of her concentration as she slowly bent one knee while the other was gently lowered to the step below. One hand had maintained a death grip on the railing throughout the entire process, while the other was holding Carlos's forearm. He'd stood directly in front of her, ready to catch her should she stumble.
Which she hadn't.
The moment both feet were planted firmly on the path, Carlos had engulfed her in a hug so tight he worried he might be suffocating her. The pride filled smile she awarded him with when he loosened his hold, though, assured him that she was perfectly fine.
"I'm proud of you, Babe," he told her now. It must have been the third time he'd told her that today, which surprised him, because he wasn't in the habit of repeating himself. Stephanie had always been the exception to the rule, he reminded himself as she smiled bright at his words. With reactions like that, who wouldn't want to repeat themselves?
"I couldn't have done it without you," Stephanie replied, leaning across the console to place a solid kiss on his lips. It was obviously meant to be a quick, affectionate peck, but Carlos had other plans. The moment her lips landed, his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her into his lap. She was effectively trapped between the hard wall of his chest and the inconveniently placed steering wheel at her back, but the moment Carlos deepened the kiss by slipping his tongue into her mouth she moaned, letting him know that she could deal with the wheel for a while if he was going to continue this slow torture.
Carlos had every intention of turning her entire body to goo before releasing her and insisting she wait in the car to rest while he picked the boys up from their classroom, but his plan was interrupted by the vibrating of his phone on his hip. He was happy to ignore it, but in such close quarters, Steph felt it too and reached between them to pull it off his belt.
"Yo," she greeted with a sly grin in his direction. Her smile changed shape as she listened to the voice on the other end of the phone, but in no way lost it's brightness. "That's great," she enthused. "I'll call Brodie and let him know it should be safe for him to hire another car now." During the next pause as she listened, Carlos carefully returned her to the passenger seat. "Okay, we'll see you soon." She hung up and returned the phone to Carlos's belt.
"They caught the car bomber," Carlos assumed.
"Yep," she confirmed. "It never ceases to amaze me how fast our men can work when there's a need for it."
"Are you saying they can be slow sometimes?"
"I wouldn't say slow," she hedged, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "But it can sometimes take them a rather long time to get rolling.
"That's only when you're involved in the case," Carlos reminded her. "And only because they're off in the break room roshamboing to work out who gets to accompany you."
Steph's eyebrows drew together at Carlos's explanation. "Do I want to know what that is?" she asked, slanting him a cautious look.
"Let's just say, only men can play," he said vaguely.
"Right," Steph said, louder than she had intended. "Anyway, Tank says we should head to Haywood ASAP after the school run so you can interrogate Mr. Car Bomb. Since this is a matter of apparent urgency, I think you should collect the boys while I wait in the car." With another sly grin, she added. "We should be able to avoid being held up by mundane 'Mommy conversation' that way."
Carlos dropped a grateful kiss to the top of his wife's head and left her in the car dialling her new found half brother, relieved to not have to sit through the constant 'oh your boys are so gorgeous and well behaved' admiration. The mothers were less likely to engage if Carlos was on his own, but if Steph was there they had no problem dragging her into the 'Mom talk' while the kids played a little after school. Steph, being the good natured woman she was, raised with 'Burg manners, reluctantly let them keep her there. It had gotten to the stage that if the men on monitors saw that the vehicle Steph was in hadn't left the school parking lot by half an hour after school let out they were to call with an excuse for her to rush off.
*o*
By the time I was settled in my wheelchair the boys had already raced across the underground parking of the Rangeman building and were taking turns constantly pressing the call button for the elevator and arguing over who had pressed it the most. I loved that they weren't phased by having to drop by their parent's work after school rather than going home so they could play with their toys. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised by this, they did end up here more often than at home in the afternoons, especially over the last few months while I was in the rehab facility.
I was just promising myself that when all this car bomb threat stuff was behind I would make sure that the boys got back in a routine of going home and doing their homework before playing in their own house and yard, when the elevator doors dinged open revealing one Lester Santos. He held a yellow and orange gun in each hand and there appeared to be another strapped to his back. A couple of small helmets were on the floor by his feet, along with what appeared to be protective vests.
"Who's your favourite uncle?" Lester asked the boys. He was grinning from ear to ear and practically vibrating with anticipation of spending the afternoon playing war with his favourite nephews. Maybe I shouldn't be so quick to insist Mat and Edi spend more time at home. At least here there were ample babysitters here.
"UNCLE LESTER!" the boys replied jumping at him simultaneously so that he had to brace himself against the wall to keep from falling over. They started reaching for the toy guns, but Lester moved them out of reach.
"Why would I be your favourite?" he asked innocently.
"Cos you got us Nerfs," Mat informed him, jumping up and down trying to snag one of the brightly coloured guns.
Lester sent a brief grin my way. "What you think these things are for you?" he asked. When they nodded, he added, "Nah, these are for Uncle Hal and Uncle Cal. They're waiting down in the gym for me. We're gonna play war."
Mat groaned, his shoulders slumping, as Edi crossed his arms over his chest and sent Lester a glare that he had undoubtedly learned from me. "We wanna play," he told his uncle.
"Is that how you ask?" Carlos admonished quietly, standing across the entrance to the elevator to keep the doors from closing before the end of this conversation, not that I thought it was required, since the men on monitors would likely have stopped the elevator's functions once they saw us on the screen.
Edi sighed and dropped his hands to his sides, which was another gesture I felt sure was mine. "Uncle Lester, may we please play war with you?"
Lester crossed his arms – awkwardly, since he was still holding the guns – and considered the twins for a moment. "I'll have to check with Hal and Cal," Lester explained. "And Mom and Dad need to agree as well."
"Mommy!" Mat exclaimed at once. "Can we play war with Uncle Lester?"
"Please?" Edi added as extra insurance.
"You have to change and have something to eat first," Carlos informed them before I could reply.
A triumphant shout erupted from the boys – Lester included – as Carlos pushed my chair into the little box and hit the button for the command floor. As we travelled up, Lester pulled two wrapped sandwiches from his cargo pocket and handed them to the boys, who immediately began devouring them. They knew that they would not be allowed to play until they'd eaten and changed, like their father said.
When the elevator reached the fifth floor I rolled myself out and Lester held the door while Carlos grabbed couple of sets of spare clothes we kept for the boys.
"My monitors shift starts at five," Lester informed me while Carlos was gone. "If you're not done by then I'll have Hal and Cal take them to the break room for some TV time or something."
"That's fine," Carlos agreed, returning to my side before I had a chance to say anything. "No snacks."
"Yes sir!" Lester mock saluted his boss and the boys copied, sandwiches still in hand. And just like that, my babies were off to war.
We entered the conference room where Mr. Car Bomb, aka Josh Bessinger, was waiting. He didn't look pleased with the fact that he was handcuffed to the chair he was sitting on, but that wasn't our problem. If he hadn't tried to kill my brother a few times we wouldn't have had to restrain him.
"What the hell do you want from me?" Bessinger demanded the moment Carlos opened the door. "I want my lawyer. You can't hold me here if you're not charging me!"
"Shut it," Carlos growled, guiding me to a cleared space on the opposite side of the table to bomber. He took his time ensuring I was settled before leaving the room briefly and returning with a manila file folder. He eased himself into the chair beside me and looked through the file without even glancing at the criminal. Bessinger was glaring at Carlos, steam practically rising from his ears.
After a tense moment, Carlos, who still had his face in the file, asked, "Why are you trying to kill Brodie McKenna?"
There was a flash in the guy's eyes, barely a millisecond, but then his brows furrowed in what appeared to me to be confusion. "Who?"
"Brodie McKenna," I repeated.
"Never heard of him," Bessinger replied easily, leaning back on the chair. There was a smirk on his face, like he knew something he assumed we didn't.
Carlos retrieved a head shot of Brodie from the back of the file and slid it across the table to Bessinger. "Did you, or did you not, rig this man's car with a bomb?"
"Not one," he replied.
"How many?" I asked.
"I've been trying to get this guy for years, but he always manages to walk away."
I glanced at Carlos, gauging his reaction in order to make sure I didn't venture off the path of his interrogation direction. "Why?" he simply asked.
Bessinger leaned forward as much as his cuffs allowed. "Do you realise who that is?" he countered. "That man murdered thirteen people!"
"Brodie McKenna?" I prompted. Something in my chest tightened. Surely I hadn't just exposed my family, my home... my sons to a murderer. I'd have felt something. My spidey senses would have told me something was wrong. There was no way Brodie was killer.
"Who the hell is this Brodie McKenna you're so obsessed with?" Bessinger demanded, clearly frustrated.
I pointed a shaking finger at the photo still on the table. "That's Brodie McKenna," I informed him.
He shook his head. "That's Willam Doddridge," he countered. "Aka Willy the Whip. He choked his victims to death with a whip but got off scot free."
"How could someone who did such things not be in jail?" I asked, my heart beating faster.
"I don't know, but I've been trying to get him for years."
"This man?" Carlos prompted, tapping the photo.
"Yes," Bessinger said, exasperated. "William Doddridge."
I shook my head. "This is my brother, Brodie McKenna. He's a translator. And his father recently died."
The confusion was back in Bessinger's eyes as his forehead creased once more. "That doesn't make sense," he said. "Willy's father passed away when he was in his teens."
"You have a file on him?" Carlos asked, setting his own file aside.
"All the information I have is stored on my phone," Bessinger replied. "But the men took that when they hauled me in here."
"I'll be back in a second," I murmured, backing my chair away from the table in order to spin around toward the door. Carlos's hand on the handle at the back stopped my progress, though, and I had barely a moment to protest before he was at the door receiving an iPhone and iPad from Tank.
The iPad, he handed to me, having clearly read my mind. It was my intention to do a quick background search on this William Doddridge. While I was engrossed in the search engines, Carlos got Bessinger to tell him where on the phone the information was stored, and by the time he had that I had a few hits popping up on my screen. I stared at the photo of a man that looked remarkably like my brother. I could understand how one would mistake them for each other, but I could clearly see the differences. Where Brodie's eyes were a clear blue, William Doddridge's had a grey tint to them. He was beefier and had a little scar at the corner of his right eye. I pointed all this out to Carlos, without saying a word and he nodded his head in understanding, allowing me to flick over to background information.
After a quick glance at both screens, Carlos announced that the information matched, however, neither were Brodie. He pulled the photo on the iPad up again, along with the photo on the iPhone and turned them both soo that Bessinger could see them framing either side of the photo of Brodie. "The man whose cars you have been blowing up is not William Doddridge," Carlos informed him, pointing out all the differences in their features.
"So does that mean I'm free to go?" Bessinger asked eagerly. "I kinda have to track down this guy."
"No," Carlos said simply. "My men have already called the police and they are on their way over to arrest you."
"But-."
I didn't hear the rest of the man's protest as Carlos swiftly wheeled me out of the room.
"Take him away, boys," I said, when I noticed Carl and Big Dog waiting in the hall. The grin on my face was wider than it probably should have been, but I'd just found the man who'd been terrorising my brother, confirmed that said brother was not the killer that Bessinger suggested he was, and got to say a line I'd been wanting to use for a long time.
"Babe," Carlos said.
I glanced at my watch as the cops did their thing. "It's only quarter to four," I pointed out. "The boys are completely occupied until at least five."
Carlos speared Tank with a look I couldn't quite interpret. "Stephanie and I will be in the seventh floor apartment. We're offline until at least seventeen hundred hours."
Tank only grinned in response as Carlos lifted me effortlessly from the wheelchair and made a hasty retreat via the stairwell. We were halfway up the stair when I finally found my voice amongst the giggles that had taken over me.
"I was actually planning on asking Bobby for a therapeutic massage," I teased. "My legs are aching a bit from all the action they've had today."
"You'll get a massage, Babe," Carlos growled huskily. "You'll get so much more than a massage, but that's where we'll start if you want."
*0*
After dinner that evening, we were gathered around the coffee table playing Junior Monopoly. The boys were bathed and pyjamaed, as was I, but Carlos had elected to wait until after put the boys to bed before taking his. I knew the only reason he was putting it off was because he didn't want me to exert myself if Mat and Edi needed anything while he was indisposed, and I would have argued, if he hadn't done wonders with that massage. No way was I sabotaging all that hard work. At least not until tomorrow morning.
I sipped my hot chocolate as Mat rolled and counted out his spaces. He landed on Chance and picked up the top card, handing it to his father. Carlos adjusted his glasses and read the card for him. While Mat carried out the instructions on the card, I found myself unable to remove my gaze from my husband's face. I thought that seeing him with glasses would make him look old, or at the very least, odd, but the reality was it made him look dignified. And sexier, if that's even possible.
My attention was hauled back to the game on the coffee table when Edi and Mat groaned, "Toaster!"
It seems that the cat they had risked their necks to save had decided to destroy the game by jumping up on the board and scattering the pieces. There was absolutely no way we could succeed in putting all the ticket booths back without an argument over who had what amusements. Toaster didn't appear to be phased by this fact, though, as she made her way across the coffee table and sat staring plaintively at Carlos. Edi reached across in an attempt to pet her, but the kitten was having nothing of it. She immediately climbed into Carlos's lap and butted her head against his hand until he relented and petted her.
"Aww, Dad," the boys moaned.
"I wanted to hold her," Mat said, resting his elbows on the coffee table and his chin in his hands. "She always goes to you!"
"That's because I don't grab at her and chase her around the house," Carlos explained patiently, his fingers never ceasing their light scratching behind Toaster's ears. "If you left her alone once in a while maybe she would come to you."
"But we love her," Edi complained.
"Alright," I said, adjusting my position so I could lift Toaster from Carlos's lap, "Edi, come have a cuddle of Toaster, then you can go brush your teeth and climb into bed." Edi crawled around the table next to me and I plopped the kitten in his lap, ensuring she stayed long enough for him to have a cuddle. After a minute or so, I took the cat back and shooed him away, beckoning Mat over for his turn. While Mat was hugging Toaster, I got Ranger to help me up and over to my wheelchair which we'd left in the hallway in order to have enough room for us all on the floor.
"I'll go read the boys a story," I told Carlos. "You put Toaster in the laundry and have a shower and I'll meet you in bed."
"It's a plan," he agreed, bending to snatch up the cat as she scampered out of the living room, followed closely by Mat who skipped off in the direction of the bathroom after placing a peck of a kiss on his father's stomach. Carlos quickly locked Toaster away and returned to my place in the hallway, lifting the hair away from my neck in order to kiss the mark he'd made this afternoon. I was thankful that I was sitting down, because even if my legs were fully functional they'd have left me in a crumpled heap on the floor as a response to the sensations his tongue caused against my skin.
I had just delved my fingers into his silky hair, the kids forgotten, when dual voices drifted down the hall to my ears.
"Mommy! We're ready!"
"I'll make it a short story," I promised myself aloud.
"I'll make it a quick shower," Carlos breathed against my ear.
True to my word, I chose the shortest book on the shelf that I thought the boys would accept as a bedtime story and read it through without pausing for the usual 'can you see this object that the story mentioned illustrated here?' stuff that I usually did.
I'd just finished, replaced the book, kissed them both goodnight and made my way to the door when Mat asked, "When can we see Leslie and Uncle Brodie again?"
"Tomorrow night," I told them quietly. "We're going to Grandma and Grandpa's for a goodbye dinner."
"Goodbye?" Edi questioned, sitting up in bed.
"Brodie and Leslie need to go back to Scotland so Leslie can go back to school," I explained.
"But we only got to see them like three times!" Edi protested.
"We only saw Leslie once!" Mat corrected.
"Don't worry," I assured them. "We'll keep in touch with them and maybe one day we'll go visit them where they live. How does that sound?"
"Okay," the both grumbled, settling back under the covers as I turned the light off and closed the door.
Carlos was leaning against the wall in the hall when I spun around. "Babe, did you just promise our kids a trip to Scotland without consulting me first?"
I raised my eyebrows at him. "Do you have a problem with that? Because we could always leave you behind."
He shook his head slowly, a small smile playing on the edges of his lips as he lifted me from my wheelchair for the second time that day and carried me to bed. "Just promise me you'll wait until you're back on your feet," he murmured, climbing up beside me.
"Like you would let me go alone," I said sarcastically, pulling his head down to kiss. "And honestly, I wouldn't want to leave you anyway."
He gave me a rare smirk. "Especially if you had to spend the entire trip with your mother and grandmother."
I shuddered at the very thought, but soon forgot what had me so appalled as Carlos's touch sent a different kind of shudder through me. I was just drifting off to sleep some time later when my husband pressed his lips to the shell of my ear and mentioned casually, "Bobby wants a demonstration of your new stair climbing abilities tomorrow morning."
"Damn," I groaned, suddenly reminded that, while I'd come a long way since coming home, I still had a long way to go, and Bobby was going to ensure that I worked hard. I had a feeling I would be needing a lot more massages in the coming months.
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