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We can’t be bullied like this. I’ll accept my fate, but I won’t let my father win.

“Really?” My father asks. “You’re going to let her go to jail because you’re too afraid to go back there yourself?”

“No,” Chewy says again. “Not happening. Here’s how things are going to go. You’re going to call whoever you have on the inside with the police and tell them the deal’s off. You’re going to tell me where the drugs are and how I can get rid of them. And then you’re going to stay out of our lives for good.”

“Chewy, what’s going on?” I ask, but his arm simply wraps around my shoulders, holding me close.

“Nobody is going to jail, baby. Your father is going to learn his lesson.”

“Really, Charles? And what lesson is that?” My father is still grinning, looking like nothing can touch him.

“That if you’re going to take a shot at me, you’d better make sure you don’t miss.”

Chewy steps away from me, drawing his phone out of his pocket, and saunters up to my father, turning the screen his way. One second, my dad is still grinning, then the next his face falls.

“You want sound, Bart, or shall we spare Annie having to listen to her father committing a felony?”

“You son of a bitch. You were recording us?”

“Ever since the first time you showed up on my doorstep. But don’t worry, nobody ever needs to see that video, just so long as you do as you’re told. Now be a good boy, Bart, and call your friend at the police station.”

“It—it’s too late. They’re on their way to your place now.” My father’s eyes are wide and glassy, his mouth shaking a little with the words.

“Oh dear. Then you’d better be quick, hadn’t you?”

“Fuck! F—fuck!” My father is drawing out his phone as he turns away, heading for the back door of our house. As he clamps the phone to his ear, I see him visibly shaking. “Fucking answer the phone, asshole,” he says, but Chewy already has his arm around my waist.

“Come on, baby, let’s get you home. You need anything from here or is it all right for me to come by tomorrow for it?”

“What if he doesn’t manage to get through in time?” I ask, turning to look back at my dad one more time as Chewy walks us to the front door.

He laughs. “Something tells me the charges will mysteriously disappear either way, baby. You ready to go?”

“Can we take your bike and come back for my things tomorrow?”

Chewy nods. “Anything you want, Annie. Ask me for the world, and I’ll try my hardest to give it to you. From this day forward, I’m going to work my ass off to be the man you deserve.”

As we step out of the house, I hear my dad shouting behind us: “Well fucking call them off before they go in, dammit!”

I grin, turning and jumping up into Chewy’s arms, planting my lips against his. “I think you already are, Charles Drake. I think you already are.”

Epilogue

Chewy

Three years later

I climb into the front seat of my Lincoln and lean my head back.

My dick throbs with the memory of Annie giving me the best good-bye head I’ve had since I left for work yesterday.

After I took her from her father’s place that day, I think we spent the next year fucking away more hours of the day than working or sleeping. Her body finally stopped punishing her after each session but there were lots of cool compresses and warm baths soothing her pussy for a long time.

I put a ring on her finger and we took a week-long road trip, ending in Vegas where we married at sunset, at a chapel out near Red Rock Canyon. Just us, but it was enough, and when we got back, the club threw us a hella party and I saw my little Cupid drunk for the first time.

She gets crazy horny when she drinks and I like to see her let loose now and then because she tries to do it all. She’s the best mother and is still taking a class or two online, working toward her Master’s. She’s a loyal friend and kick-ass wife and I admire her more every day we’re together

I keep the apartment above the garage mostly for purposes of our fornication. She comes by with the boys almost every afternoon, heads upstairs, puts them down for a nap then sends me a text, usually with a picture of her wet pussy or milk leaking from her tits.

Both of which drive me crazy, and I take the stairs two at a time while Rodney and Breach give me shit for being so whipped.

It’s still early, I want to be home by noon to help set up for the boys’ birthday party. Evan and Edward are two today, twins born eight minutes apart, and they have a little sister damn near ready to pop out of their mother any day.

I’m fucking exhausted but happier than I ever imagined I could be.

I start up the car, looking at the little bungalow I bought for us just a few months after we got together. It’s got a white picket fence for fuck sake, and when I sent a picture of it to my parents, my mother called me crying.

Said she was afraid I was never going to settle down, which coming from the perpetual nomads themselves is ironic. Even after I got sent up for grand theft, my parents loved me and believed in me, even though we were never conventionally close like most nuclear sort of families. They marched to their own drummers and that’s probably where my free spirit started, right in the back of their VW van where I was born and raised for the first few years of my life.

They came to visit after the boys were born. Parked their Airstream in the driveway and spent

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