Ty felt his body shake with laughter as he said, “Sorry, baby, gonna have to give up on that dream.”
“Fuck,” she whispered, glaring down at her plate.
Ty studied his wife, grinning.
The woman was dead and Lexie was pissed that she didn’t get her chance to engage in a catfight before Misty bought it.
And, there it was. Lexie hated Misty more than he did.
Seeing that, he suddenly understood it and knew that emotion was for him, not that Misty had betrayed the sisterhood. Misty was his wife’s focus because, no matter what authority and power was around her, Misty was the one person in his nightmare who could end it. And she didn’t. And she didn’t just to get a ring on her finger and a shot at a big inheritance.
And that was not what Alexa Walker was about.
And Alexa Walker loved him and that love ran deep.
Ty had endured the consequences of Misty’s greed and he hated her because of it. But Lexie paid the price of Misty’s actions and that price was expensive. But she paid it twice and she’d do it again.
Knowing this, that gaping wound in his chest tightened and started to close.
Misty Keaton took five years of Ty’s life and six weeks of his wife’s.
And now the bitch was dead.
“Babe,” he called quietly and her angry eyes shot to his. “That toxic pu**y was found dumped by an access road, shot dead. It’s done for you, for me. Team Walker is movin’ on.”
He watched the anger seep out of her eyes but they grew thoughtful.
Then she asked, “Are both members of Team Walker moving on?”
At her question, his hand moved across the table to tag hers, his fingers curling around and holding tight and he leaned in.
“Vengeance is mine,” he whispered and her fingers convulsed in his then he went on. “And the way I’m seein’ to that is that my woman and the babies she gives me are gonna have a man and a Daddy who does not have this shit hangin’ over his head, whose name is clear so they are free to live wild and burn bright without this shit draggin’ them down. To do that, Team Walker celebrates each victory by livin’ wild and burnin’ bright without this shit draggin’ them down. Misty Keaton is dead. We… are… movin’… on.”
She held his eyes and asked, “After all this, Ty, is it that easy for you to let it go?”
“I’m not lettin’ shit go. I’m focused on clearin’ my name. But Misty’s gone, she cannot help with that. So I’m movin’ on from that part of it and I’m takin’ you with me.”
His woman stared at him. Then she squeezed his hand. Then her head dropped and her hand moved in his so his eyes went to their hands and he saw and felt her thumbing his wedding band.
When he did, two memories came back, strong and fierce, her fingering his wedding band at the breakfast table in Vegas and her explanation last night as to why she’d done it. He’d not forgotten in the weeks that would pass that she did that in Vegas and he’d often wonder about why she did it. Now he knew. And watching her touch their symbol that he wore, he felt the gape of his wound grow even smaller.
“You ever take this off?” she softly asked their hands.
“Never,” he answered just as soft.
“Never,” she repeated, this time a whisper. Then he watched her draw in a deep breath.
“Mama,” he called, not because he wanted to, she could study his ring while touching him for as long as she wanted but they had shit to talk about and he had four college tuitions to worry about so he eventually had to get back to work.
Her head came up and her eyes met his but her thumb kept moving on his wedding band.
“You with me?” he asked.
“Team Walker is a winner,” she said softly, he grinned at her and she stopped thumbing his ring, her hand gave his a squeeze then she let it go and went back to her food saying, “Now, you mentioned Crabtree when you were talking to Tate. What’s up with him?”
She nabbed a fry, pushed it deep into her enormous mound of ketchup and tossed it into her mouth then looked at him and he told her about Crabtree.
Then he told her about Frank.