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and Tweedle exchanged grins.

“His dad is—well was, until recently—the town drunk. He got Loretta knocked up the weekend he told his wife, now ex-wife, he was out fishing. Nine months later, Rod and Reel were born, though that wasn’t their legal names.”

I smiled a big smile. “Nice. How pissed would he be if I spread that story around so everyone starts calling him Reel?”

“About as pissed as you were when Reel intentionally threw you under the bus with Bones about Bridget capturing a murderer,” Tweedle said, smiling as she plated another platter of cookies.

Hattie giggled. “I like her. She’s spunky.”

“Yeah. I think we’ll get along just fine,” I said as I gave Tweedle a fist bump.

“Just don’t piss her off,” Bridget said. “I’ve seen her sedate two grown men with her spiked cookies, then dress them up in Halloween costumes and drop them off in the middle of town square. She’s not someone you want to cross.”

Hattie and I looked back at Tweedle.

“I only did that once,” she admitted, waving a spatula in the air to emphasize. “And they totally deserved it.”

“As long as they deserved it, dear,” Hattie said, nodding her approval.

Grady returned to the kitchen, clad in military camo and carrying a bulky duffle. Wild Card came up the stairs, dressed similarly with two more duffle bags.

“You got sniper rifles?” Wild Card asked.

Grady nodded. “You got night vision gear?”

Wild Card nodded toward the bag in his right hand. “Ladies,” he said bowing his head before he walked out the garage door.

“Behave,” Grady said to me before smacking his lips to mine. “I mean it.”

“You have two days, Mr. Tanner,” I warned.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, heading out the door.

“Ryan’s always been the only badass I’ve known,” Tweedle said. “Looks like he’s just one of many around here.”

“Oh, Ryan’s still a badass even compared to the others,” Bridget said. “You should’ve seen what he did with the stack of C4 they confiscated a couple weeks ago. Blew trees up from their roots right out of the ground.”

“C4? As in explosives?” Tweedle asked, turning a little white.

“For the record, I wasn’t the one who let that slip,” I said, pointing at Bridget. “I was warned over and over again, never to mention Ryan’s training if I met his wife.”

“What else don’t I know?” Tweedle asked as she pummeled a wad of bread dough.

“Probably best if we wait until they return safely from cartel country before we tell you the rest,” Bridget said, taking a step away from the counter.

“Cartel country?” Tweedle asked.

“You did hear the part about them going to Mexico, right?” I asked.

“And you saw the camo and gear?” Hattie asked with a raised eyebrow.

Tweedle pouted, looking at each of us. “I had an image in my head that they’d be staying at a resort and saving a tourist.”

“They might be saving a tourist,” Bridget said, nodding.

“And they might even stay the night at one of the resorts before they fly back,” Hattie agreed.

“Tweedle…” I said, looking between Bridget and Hattie. “Hattie and Bridget mean well, but they’re lying to you. The guys will most likely be jumping out of a chopper in the middle of the jungle, hiking miles into some well-guarded compound, shooting the shit out of people, and high tailing their asses back out. I’d also place a wager that the trip will include Ryan blowing some shit up. You need to face the facts. Your husband does some dangerous shit. Once you can come to terms with it, you’ll worry less.”

“How do I know if he’s any good at it? That he won’t get hurt?”

“I’ve worked plenty of jobs with your husband,” I said. “I can assure you; he knows his shit.”

“The rest is faith, dear,” Hattie said.

“I think this weekend will be good for you,” Bridget said, stepping closer to rub Tweedle’s shoulder. “It will give you a chance to see Ryan’s soldier side.”

“Or… She’ll get to see him get his ass kicked in the Circle of Hell,” I said, laughing. “Carl’s still arguing that Franky’s plastic sword is not as motivating as the lead pipe.”

“I saw the video,” Reggie said as he closed the sliding door on the back deck. “Carl’s original design was terrifying.” Reggie shuddered. “I still can’t believe Donovan’s only injury was a fractured arm after Meathead slammed him into the floor like that.”

“You came!” I lunged at Reggie, my arms wrapping around his shoulders as he swung me around. “I missed you.”

“Missed you too, sis,” Reggie said, kissing my forehead before setting me back on my feet. “I’m glad Donovan postponed the tournament for a month so I could make the trip.”

“That was all Lisa. She told Donovan that unless he wanted to be served with divorce papers, he couldn’t fight in the Circle of Hell until the doctor cleared him.”

“Damn,” Reggie said. “She’s got him by the balls.”

“Language, Reggie,” Hattie scolded, handing Reggie a cup of coffee. “This is a family-friendly home, and we’re trying to clean up the conversations around here.”

Reggie looked at me, grinning. “And how’s that going?”

“I’ll have you know that I’m adjusting just fine.” I grinned, stretching my arms before flexing my muscles. We had installed a swear rule, where if an adult got caught swearing in front of the kids, they could sentence us to ten pushups. It took me about a week to get my swearing under control, but the hundreds of extra pushups were good for my biceps. “With the tournament this weekend, though, I’m worried Sara will slip back into bad habits. A couple of days of wall to wall off-duty guards and we’ll be right back where we started.”

“It’s all good. Wayne was doing pushups when I left. Then he ordered the kids to return to their

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