IT WAS A GORGEOUS day in June, a perfect day for a wedding. The location was the beautiful and historic St. Joseph Cathedral, one of the oldest, standing churches in downtown Baton Rouge, Louisiana. The cathedral easily sat the four-hundred guests who’d come to witness the wedding of Stonewall Courson and Joy Ingram.
Standing at the front of the church, Stonewall drew in a deep breath as he glanced out at the audience waiting for the ceremony to begin. If anyone had told him, this time last year, that he would be at this place in his life, he would not have believed them. A lot had happened since that day, a little over fifteen years ago—less than a year after graduating from high school—when life as he’d known it changed.
That was the day he had been sent to prison as an accessory to a robbery, and he’d remained behind bars for eight years. Originally, his sentence had only been for five years; however, he’d ended up doing eight because he’d had trouble with other inmates. And he had no doubt that he would have done more than those eight years, if it hadn’t been for the older man standing beside him—the man Stonewall credited with saving his life, and the man Stonewall was honored to have as one of his best men, Sheppard Granger.
Sheppard, who had been in prison for a crime he did not commit, had been instrumental in not only helping Stonewall turn his life around, but he had helped many other young inmates, as well. He had become their friend, their advocate, and the father-figure many of them never had.
He had believed in them and had encouraged them to believe in themselves. He had convinced them that they had something to contribute to society, even if they believed society had done them wrong. It was up to them to reach for the best.
Stonewall’s chest swelled with pride. He had reached for the best and had found it in the name of Joy Ingram. She had stepped into his world and his life had changed forever. Today she would become his wife, something he never knew he even wanted. Especially since Joy was a cop—one of the best police lieutenants on the force.
He thought back to that big case she’d solved last year involving a surrogate operation. She and her colleagues had shut down a huge national network that included businessmen and politicians and had reunited mothers with the babies who had been stolen from them. Sadly, some of the cases were still stalled in court.
Stonewall thought about his own involvement in that particular case, when he’d saved a woman, and her newborn baby, who’d been held hostage, by carrying them out of a house just before it blew up. That act of heroism had landed him on the front page of several newspapers and on magazine covers and had led to several television and radio appearances. There was even a movie in the works. And through it all, Joy had been by his side. His Joy in the morning, and later, she had become his Joy at night. And in less than an hour, she would become his Joy forever. She would wear his name, share his life, have his babies, and make him as happy as he intended to make her.
“Getting nervous?”
He glanced over at Sheppard and smiled. “No, Shep. I’m not nervous, just anxious to get things started.”
In addition to Sheppard, Stonewall was lucky to have two other best men by his side—Quasar Patterson and Striker Jennings. Quasar and Striker were like brothers to him, and he’d also met them in prison. Quasar, who was Cuban-American and stood tall at six-foot-two with straight, black hair flowing around his shoulders, had gotten married last year to renowned psychic investigator, Randi Fuller. Months before that, Striker, who stood over six-three and looked more like a professional bodybuilder than a skilled bodyguard, had married an heiress he had been hired to protect, Margo Connelly. Both Striker and Quasar often wore sappy grins on their faces these days—obviously marriage agreed with them. Stonewall had no doubt marriage would agree with him, as well.
“Be patient, Stonewall. You’ll see your beautiful bride soon enough,” Quasar said smiling.
“I am trying to be patient.”
“You want me to give you a quick breathing lesson?” Striker offered, grinning.
Stonewall rolled his eyes. Striker’s wife Margo was expecting the couple’s first child and Striker was accompanying her to child-birth classes. “I’m