A/N: It's been a while, but I'm back with a sequel for Deacon and Reagan. If you haven't read the beginning of their story (Proof of Life), then I recommend reading that first! If you have and you're here for part two, then THANK YOU for all of the kind words and support!

I'll update when I can! In the meantime, enjoy! :)

Black Betty charged down the Ventura Freeway into Pasadena, fancy shops and take-out restaurants zipping by in a blur of bright colors. Officer Dominique Luca sat behind the wheel, focused on the task in front of him as concrete disappeared beneath the tires.

"A call came in saying that a man is holding his girlfriend hostage and threatening to commit suicide after she tried to break up with him," Sergeant David 'Deacon' Kay said to his team. "Our suspect is twenty-two years of age, Caucasian, and armed with a handgun. We've been advised to handle the situation with delicacy. It sounds like he needs help—not a body bag."

"So bean bag rounds on this one," Sergeant Daniel 'Hondo' Harrelson added, holding up his shotgun.

Officers Jim Street and Christina 'Chris' Alonso nodded in response as Officer Victor Tan said from his spot in the front passenger seat, "You got it, boss."

"Two minutes out," Luca announced.

Deacon reached under the neck of his shirt and bulletproof vest, grasping the cross necklace there.

Lord, protect us. Help me get home to my family…

He mouthed an 'amen' and glanced over at Hondo, who watched the ritual with his own solemn expression.

"How are Cassie and the kids?"

At that, Deacon smiled. His wife, Reagan Cassidy, had helped on their SWAT team a while back, before they were married, earning her the nickname 'Cassie.' Even though she had since adopted the last name Kay, the team still called her by her nickname.

"They're good. Lila's taken to making slime, which drives both Reagan and I insane." He chuckled. "Matthew is less crafty, taking after his old man. He says he wants to grow up and arrest bad guys like his Uncle Luca."

"That's my lil' man!" Luca said, grinning and gesturing with one hand, but keeping his eyes on the road.

"He does realize we all do that, right?" Street asked.

Deacon laughed and shook his head. "Uncle Luca tells him stories—more than he probably should. They have a lasting impression."

"He has that effect on people," Tan commented.

"Aw, thanks guys," Luca said.

"I don't think that was meant as a compliment," Street said.

"You're just jealous," Luca shot back.

Street scoffed. "Damn straight I am. Matthew's the coolest kid I know."

"Yeah, thanks to his Uncle Luca," the man himself added.

They all chuckled.

Deacon looked around at the co-workers who had become friends and then his family. "We finally finished our patio renovation. Reagan wanted me to extend an invitation to you guys for a barbeque later this week. I know the kids would love to see you all."

"We wouldn't miss it," Hondo replied, earning nods of agreement from the other team members.

"All right, twenty seconds," Luca announced, which forced them all to get focused once more.

They rolled up to a conservative split-level ranch and parked along the road, exiting the vehicle in an orderly fashion. Deacon quietly led the group forward until they reached the front door. Pushing it open, they announced their presence and moved room-to-room with practiced efficiency.

No one appeared in front of them, least of all, armed. Hondo indicated an open basement door and Deacon nodded, stepping aside for the other man to take point. At the bottom of the stairs, a purple glow illuminated the surrounding walls and furniture. Directly ahead of them, someone occupied a computer chair and made no acknowledgment of their sudden presence.

Suddenly, the man said, "What, Chat—?"

"LAPD SWAT, put your hands up and turn around slowly!" Hondo called out.

The man, looking more like a twelve-year-old boy in person, threw up his hands and spun around. His wide eyes moved between them as he ripped off his gaming headset. "For reals?" he stammered, laughing nervously. "Somebody seriously swatted me?"

Deacon frowned in frustration and lowered his weapon. "You're a gamer?"

"Yeah…" the young man said, almost as if he was unsure of a correct response.

"You're not threatening your girlfriend?"

He let out another short laugh. "No, I don't have a girlfriend. I wish!"

Deacon shook his head and gestured toward himself. "All right, away from the computer. What's your name?"

"Crypto."

"Excuse me?" Deacon asked.

"Crypto. That's my stream name."

"I get that, but what's your real name?"

"Oh! Sorry. Ben..."

"Okay, Ben, we need to go upstairs and sort out some stuff. Just pause your game…"

"I can't pause it."

"Ben."

"Yeah, okay, loud and clear. Be right back, Chat!" he said into the microphone on his desk.

The team exchanged a deflated yet annoyed look between them. "I really wish people would stop doing this," Deacon said to Hondo.

The other man nodded.

They escorted Ben upstairs, and as he passed them, Deacon heard him mutter, "I'm gonna get so many subs from this."

Men were disappearing.

Detective Reagan Kay sighed deeply and ran a hand over her weary face.

How many more men needed to go missing for this to be taken seriously?

Her co-workers said it was a classic scenario of mid-life crisis: Husband gets tired of wife, finds mistress, leaves wife. Reagan would've believed it herself if the details fit, but they didn't. These men were from all different backgrounds—some with wives and girlfriends, some without. Some had families, others didn't.

She'd tried the online lover angle; maybe a catfish gone bad. She'd stripped their computers and what few phones she had until she thought she knew more about these men than they did themselves.

All Reagan had gotten was more questions than answers.

The men in relationships seemed happy, and their text histories backed that up. It was possible she had overlooked something hidden on purpose, but in these last seven years as a LAPD detective, she'd learned to explore those routes first.

And so far she'd turned up zilch.

"Kay!"

Oh shit.

Her name coming out of her boss's mouth in that tone was never good.

Lieutenant Cole appeared in his doorway and snapped his fingers, not-so-politely indicating for Reagan to come into his office. She pushed away from her desk and let out another sigh. As she walked across the main room filled with other detective's desks, phones, and filing cabinets, her coworker Whitney whistled quietly.

"You're in for it now, Kay."

Reagan forced a sweet smile. "Maybe he wants to give me a promotion."

Whitney released an unflattering laugh. "That'd be the day. Just give me the signal and I'll call hubster for you."

Reagan walked backward for a moment and huffed out a breath. "I don't need Deacon to fix my messes. I can take care of myself!"

"Let me hear you say that in five or twenty minutes..."

Reagan turned around with an eyeroll and came face-to-face with her boss. His stale coffee breath lingered between them and she subdued a grimace.

"Close the door behind you," he said, and spun to round his desk, plopping down heavily in the worn computer chair.

She made no move to occupy the seat in front of him, hoping it would keep his lecture shorter than normal. It probably wouldn't work, though.

"Detective, why is it that we have no leads on these missing persons cases?"

"Sir, I—"

"Kay, I have vouched for you over and over again! You assured me you could handle this case. You wanted this case. Meanwhile, I have three homicides on the back burner and people who want answers!"

"I understand—"

"I don't think you do! You've been a great detective for us up until recently. You've been backsliding."

"Yes, sir, I've had a lot of family obligations lately."

"We all have families! If you need some time to deal with that, then apply for leave. I'm sure Deacon can make up the difference financially if you need a break."

Reagan felt something in her snap. Maybe it was a blood vessel. "I don't need a break! You want results? You'll get them! Just give me two more weeks. I'll dig deeper, follow other leads."

"What leads? You haven't given me anything!"

"I'll get you something by the end of the week. I promise."

"Detective, you know the first rule around here is: Don't make a promise you can't keep."

"I know. That's why I said it. I'm confident I'll have something soon."

Reagan pulled into the driveway behind Deacon's SUV. She sat for a moment and let her gaze wander over their suburb-lite home, its windows aglow from probably every single light being turned on and never off. Deacon was terrible at shutting off lights, but Lila was worse.

It didn't matter, though. She was happy to come home to this. She needed light right now, and that's what her family was to her.

She got out of the car and noticed one of Matthew's Paw Patrol stuffies laying on the driveway. She snatched it up and walked inside, brushing it off as she entered.

"I'm home," she announced as she set Chase on the entry table.

"Mommy!" Lila jumped up from the couch and ran over to hug around her waist.

"Hey, darling. How was your day?" Reagan kneeled down to face her eight-year-old daughter.

Lila smiled, showcasing a gap between two teeth.

"You lost your tooth!"

"Yup!" Lila shuffled across the room and then returned with a plastic, tooth-shaped container. "I was wiggling it with my tongue and it came out right in the middle of art class!"

"No way! I hope you didn't bleed all over your art project," Reagan teased.

Lila giggled. "Eww, no! It didn't even bleed!"

They both smiled and a deep voice came from the hallway next to them.

"At the rate she's going, the tooth fairy will have to take out a second mortgage."

Reagan looked up at Deacon as he wiped his hands on a dishcloth, dark eyes twinkling at her. He still wore his work uniform of boots, cargo pants, and a black t-shirt with the LAPD emblem. His biceps bulged as he crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway.

After ten years of marriage, all it took was one glance and Reagan still wanted to jump his bones.

"What's a mortgage?" Lila asked, screwing up her face and breaking the moment.

"Something you won't have to worry about for a long time!" Reagan said, and stood to accept a quick kiss on the lips from Deacon.

"Did you have a good day?" he asked as Lila ran off.

"Meh, but it's better now." She smiled and snuck another kiss, allowing herself to fall into his strong embrace. They parted and she inhaled. "Something smells good."

"That would be chicken and vegetables, hot off the grill."

She hummed in response. "You're the best." Looking around, she asked, "Where's Matthew?"

"Where do you think?" he said with a smile, and headed back down the hall.

Reagan turned into the living room and found her five-year-old son hypnotized by the television, his small fingers diligently pressing buttons on an Xbox controller.

"Hi, baby," she said, and cradled his head with one hand to kiss the top.

"Hi, Mommy," he said, not looking away.

"How's the world of Minecraft today?"

"I found a village with a blacksmith! Look at the treasure I got!" Matthew pointed at the screen and named each item in his inventory.

"That's so cool! Now what are you doing?"

"I'm filling it with zombies," he said, using the creative mode to throw spawn eggs.

Reagan's eyes widened in mock surprise. "Why would you do that to those poor villagers?"

Matthew grinned at her response. "Don't worry! I'm going to clear each house just like Uncle Luca and save them all!"

Reagan laughed. "You know Daddy does that too, right? And Mommy a long time ago."

"Yeah, like the Avengers..."

"Oh...yeah, okay, I'll take it."

"Matthew, dinner's ready. Come eat," Deacon called from the kitchen.

"I'll just eat here."

Reagan stood. "Nope, table tonight."

Matthew groaned and didn't budge.

"It's a race and I'm gonna win!" Reagan said, starting to move toward the hallway, which would take her the 'long way' to the dining room.

That got his attention. He threw down the controller and scurried off in the opposite direction.

She fast-walked down the hall, through the kitchen, coming into the dining room a moment after him. "Ugh, you win!"

He grinned triumphantly and hopped into his usual chair at the table.

Lila sat down across from him with her plate and Deacon slid a full plate in front of Matthew.

After getting their own food, Reagan followed Deacon into the dining room to occupy either end of the oval-shaped table.

"And how was your day?" she asked him.

He sighed as he settled into his chair. "Not bad actually. We only got one call and ended up swatting some poor gamer. Though, he didn't seem to mind it all that much..."

Reagan shook her head. "When will people stop doing that? It's a waste of the city's time and resources."

"Daddy, you swatted a guy? My teacher says it's not nice to hit people," Matthew chimed in, talking through a mouthful of chicken.

Deacon cracked a smile. "No, buddy, I didn't hit anyone. This word means something different."

Afterward, the discussion continued to spiral, allowing no room for adult conversation. Reagan welcomed it, though. She loved this time with her family.

When the table was cleared, baths given, and children put to bed, Reagan joined Deacon in the kitchen to help dry the dishes he'd just washed.

"How's the missing persons' case coming along?" he asked, passing her a plate.

"Not well. Cole gave me two more weeks to come up with something, but I'm not sure if that will be enough. There's just no evidence that links these men together..."

"It's out there. You just have to find it."

Reagan shot him a look. "Easier said than done."

Deacon stopped, dried his hands, and turned to Reagan, resting his hands on her hips to pull her close. She looked up at him and knew her eyes showed more self-doubt than she wanted to let on.

"You are an amazing detective and police officer. I've seen you overcome things that most men couldn't have, even me."

She smirked. "That's not true."

He gave her a gentle smile. "I don't think you remember where you came from. You worked and hustled your way up from the ground floor. You've proven yourself. Whatever evidence is out there will be found, and you're exactly the person to find it. You know why?"

"Why?"

"Because you never give up, Reagan. And if there was only one person to handle my own case, I'd want it to be you."

She fought a blush and lost. "Mr. Kay, you know just what to say to a lady."

"I know what to say to my lady." He closed the space between them and angled his head to kiss her deeply, breathing in her scent.

"You know I love you, right?" she whispered.

He nuzzled his nose against hers and tugged her hips closer. "Probably not as much as I love you." The playfulness in his gaze was not lost on her.

"Oh so it's a competition?"

"Yeah, it's a race, and I'm going to win," he said, slipping past her and heading toward their bedroom.

She laughed and began to chase after him, knowing that no matter who got there first, they both would win.