A Beautiful Funeral: A Novel (Maddox Brothers Book 5) (8 page)

I sighed. “Maybe. Maybe not.” I slipped behind the wheel, taking in a deep breath before twisting the key in the ignition. Liis had traveled halfway across the country with a newborn. A funeral was the only reason she would risk it, especially knowing the mafia were committed to punishing her by targeting the only weakness Liis Lindy had: the people she loved. It wasn’t enough anymore that she was surrounded by the Bureau. She needed the Maddox family now. She knew we would keep Stella safe.

I kept a tight grip on the steering wheel until the gates of the regional airport were in sight. No one had followed me. The security guard at the gate seemed alert but relaxed. I showed my ID, and he allowed me to continue. It was unlikely anyone in Vegas could have found out Liis was heading home to Illinois in enough time to beat her here.

As I pulled up to the terminal, I could see the Bureau’s jet already parked near a county hangar. It was swarming with suits: men and women clearly armed and dangerous. The moment my truck rounded the corner, they were focused, ordering me to slow down, park my vehicle, and show my hands.

I did as they commanded, holding up my badge. Most of them knew who I was the moment I stepped onto the tarmac.

“Travis!” Liis called from behind a wall of men.

I jogged over to her, pushing agents to the side to get to my sister-in-law. Her red-rimmed eyes were puffy and tired. “Oh my God, your face,” she said, gently touching my purple, swollen skin. Liis wasn’t the most affectionate person, but she immediately melted into my arms. “You came,” she said softly.

I placed my hand on the back of her long, dark hair and kissed the top of her head. “Damn right, I did.”

“Abby?” she asked, looking up at me. “Everyone’s all right? Nothing suspicious?”

“Everything is good. They’re all waiting to help you with the baby.”

“I haven’t slept in three days,” Liis said, her almond-shaped eyes staring up at me.

“I know,” I said, holding her to my side as we walked toward the truck. “I know.”

CHAPTER SIX

SHEPLEY

I
HELD OUT MY HANDS
in front of me. “Stop! No! Don’t do it!”

My sons stared back at me with their mom’s no-bullshit, round, sapphire eyes, ice cream cones in hand. Ezra, Eli, and Emerson were all standing on our porch, their faces as filthy as their shirts. Their mom would freak if they went inside like that, and they knew it. I’d taken them out in the first place to give her some quiet time to clean the house the way she wanted without one of our little monsters messing it up behind her. If I let them in covered in milky, sticky goo, America would kill us all.

“Guys,” I said, still holding up my hands, “I’m getting the hose. Don’t. Move. Mom is in there. Do you know what she’ll do if you step foot inside the house?”

Eli looked at Emerson with his trademark evil grin.

“I mean it,” I said, pointing at them. They giggled as I took the three steps from the porch to the sidewalk and then veered off into the grass toward the side yard to find the spigot.

America and I were both only children, and we knew we wanted more than one, and close together. By the time we’d had Emerson, we’d decided we were in way over our heads. Ezra was just a month older than Travis and Abby’s twins. Eli came two years later. Emerson two more after that. Unlike Travis and Taylor’s sons, mine were all quick to throw a punch, taller than every kid in their perspective grades, and unmistakably Maddox mean. Good thing I’d had some experience with that.

I grabbed the nozzle and pulled it from the retractable hose reel, unraveling it as I walked toward the porch. As soon as I rounded the corner, I dropped the hose and ran. The door was wide open, and the boys were gone.

“Damn it!” I growled, running toward the sound of America’s shrieking.

She was in the kitchen, already moving at warp speed. Emerson was sitting on the counter with his bare feet in the sink under running water while she was temporarily blinding Eli by yanking a shirt over his head. She was already threatening Ezra.

“If you move, so help me God!” she warned.

“Yes, ma’am,” Ezra said, standing uncharacteristically still next to the refrigerator.

The boys weren’t great at listening to me, but none of them dared to test their momma when she’d had enough. She wasn’t afraid to let us know when we were close to crossing that line, either.

“I’m sorry, honey,” I said, grabbing several rags from a drawer.

America was in the zone, far away from me. There was no time for meaningless apologies—or her acceptance of them. She was concentrating on the next thing that had to be done. By the time we’d wiped the last of the melted white mess from their mouths and hands, the boys were already running at turbo speed to their rooms, and America was sitting on the floor looking spent.

“God bless Diane for keeping your cousins alive for as long as she did,” America said.

I sat beside her, resting my forearms on my bent knees. “House looks good.”

“For the moment,” she said, leaning over to kiss me. “Still questioning our decision to remodel before they leave for college.”

I chuckled, but that faded as I pushed up to stand, bringing my wife with me. We both groaned, our aging bones just beginning to show signs of three decades of wear and tear. We’d spent a lot of time on that kitchen floor, making meals, making babies, and then on our hands and knees replacing the linoleum with updated tile. The popcorn ceilings scraped, granite countertops and new carpeting or tile installed throughout, every room but the boys’ painted Tony Taupe, lighting updated, and hardware replaced. The only things untouched were the oak wood cabinets and trim. Our house was nearly as old as we were, but America liked character and turning old into new rather than living in a space that didn’t need us.

Emerson ran in and hugged America. “Love you, Mom.” He darted off just as fast as he’d appeared, and she held out her shirt, revealing a white smear.

“We missed a spot,” she said, exasperated. “I wonder how many more spots we missed. We should do a second sweep.”

“He loves you, Mom. They all do.”

America’s eyes softened as she looked to me. “That’s why I let them live.”

From the moment two lines appeared on the pregnancy test, America was in love: more than she loved her parents, more than she loved Abby—more than she loved me. She made no apologies for putting the boys first, even before herself. When America took it upon herself to help me wrangle my roommate and cousin, Travis, neither one of us knew she was practicing to be a Maddox boys’ mother herself. The way she commanded their respect and retained her soft maternal side reminded me of my Aunt Diane almost daily.

“Summer camp?” I asked. I was a football scout for the Chicago Bears and traveled for a good chunk of the year. America was a saint. She never complained and never resented me for being on the road, or continuing in a job I loved, even if it meant a lot of lonely nights and solo parenting. Even if she had, I’d still think she was a saint. Sometimes, I wished that she would.

“Oh, yes. Fishing, camping, and starting fires. They can’t wait. We still have insurance, right?”

“Right.”

America sighed, intertwining her fingers in mine. Covered in cleaner, fingers pruney, and with a dust bunny hanging from her blond ponytail, she was stunningly beautiful. I felt a pang in the pit of my stomach. “I love you,” she said, and I fell in love all over again.

I opened my mouth to respond, but my phone rang. I rolled my eyes and then used my index finger and thumb like tweezers to pull it from the front pocket of my khaki pants. “Hello?”

“Hey, Shep. It’s, uh … it’s Trent. Are you home?”

“We’re home. What’s up?”

“You should come over.”

I paused, not expecting his answer. “N-now?”

“Now,” Trenton said without hesitation.

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, already uneasy. “Is it Jim?” As expected, my question caught America’s attention. “Is he okay?”

“He’s okay. We just need you to come over.”

“Sure,” I said, trying to keep the worry from my voice. I knew Jim had been off lately, and I imagined that he might have gotten bad news from the doctor. “We’ll be there in twenty.”

“Thanks, Shep,” Trenton said before hanging up the phone.

“Jim?” America asked.

I put my phone away and shrugged. “I don’t know. They want us to come over.”

“Sounds urgent,” she said, watching my face for clues.

“I honestly don’t know, honey. Let’s just herd the boys toward the car. Twenty minutes is optimistic by anyone’s standards.”

“I can do it,” she said, walking toward the hall. “Boys! Car! Now!”

I watched her disappear into Eli and Emerson’s room and then searched for my keys and phone for a full minute before realizing they were both in my pockets. I cursed under my breath all the way to Ezra’s room, and then encouraged him to put on his Chuck Taylors so we could go. I knew for a fact America had started cleaning their rooms before even thinking about the rest of the house, and Ezra’s floor was already covered with clothes, toys, and …

“Rocks? Really?” I asked.

“Got them from James. He won them in a poker game.”

I subdued a smile, knowing exactly where James got his hustling skills from. “Tie your laces. C’mon, buddy, we gotta go.”

“Where?” Ezra asked in his mini-man voice. He reminded me of Thomas, always needing to know the details.

“To Papa Jim’s,” I said.

Travis and Abby’s twins had come a little early, making James and Jessica just a month younger than Ezra. Even without the influence of Travis’s kids referring to him as Papa, my kids would’ve still considered Jim their other grandpa.

“Yessss!” Ezra hissed, slipping on his Chucks without tying them and running for the door.

“Tie your shoes, Ezra! Ezra!” I called after him.

America was already standing next to the car just inside the open back door, reaching over Eli to buckle Emerson into his car seat. Ezra slid in on the other side, his laces dangling. America simply nodded to his feet, and his knee was bent, following orders.

“How?” I said, walking to my side.

“They know exactly what they can get away with,” she said, pulling open the passenger side door. She clicked her seat belt and then leaned back, taking the precious few minutes we had in the car with the kids strapped down to relax. I barely heard her next words over the engine igniting. “Every kid has a currency, love. They also know I will annihilate theirs.”

I chuckled, knowing full well she was serious. I’d seen many a toy plane and racecar bagged up and taken to charity or stored until the boys earned it back. America was militant at times, but she was right. One day, they would be bigger than she was, and it was important for her to establish respect before that happened. As I drove to Jim’s, I thought about what it would be like if Diane had been around to raise my cousins. Everything America did as a mother was exactly the way I pictured my aunt. I wasn’t sure how an only daughter kept a handle on a brood of rowdy Maddox boys, but from the moment she pushed Ezra into the world, she somehow always knew when to be soft and when to be tough.

I pushed down the blinker, waiting for oncoming traffic before turning left into Jim’s drive. The two gravel slits on each side of a runway of freshly mowed grass sat on the left side of Jim’s house and ran deep, past the backside of the house. So many cars were already parked, the ass of my minivan hung out into the street more than two feet. Good thing the parked car in front of Jim’s house would keep the flow of traffic away from the van.

“What the hell?” America said.

“Mom,” Ezra scolded. “Don’t say hell.”

“
You
don’t say hell,” America said back.

“You first.”

She turned slowly, shooting him a death glare. He sank back into his seat, already afraid for his life.

No one was waiting for us on the porch. Something was wrong. I unfastened Eli and Emerson and kept pace with America as she led Ezra by the hand to the front door. I knocked twice and then opened the screen door, making a mental note to come by and fix it before it fell off its hinges. Trenton and Camille had been busy trying to get pregnant, and Travis had just come home from working out of town. I pitched in to help when and where I could.

America took my hand, just as wary about what we were walking into as I was. Except for quiet murmuring in the kitchen, the house was quiet—strange with that many people in the house.

“Hey,” I said when Trenton came into view. He looked like shit, and I could see that both he and Camille had been crying. Travis and Abby were leaning against the counters next to the fridge, watching Trenton tell me whatever news I’d come to learn. “Where’s Jim?” I asked.

He hugged me quickly. “Thanks for coming so fast.”

“Trenton,” I said. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“It’s Tommy,” he said, his voice ragged.

“Oh, God. The baby?” America asked.

My stomach sank. Stella was only a couple of days old.

“No”—Trenton shook his head—“no, she’s fine. Super healthy.” He looked down at the boys. “James and Jess are upstairs. Why don’t you guys go find ‘em?”

All three boys took off, and America grabbed my arm with both hands, bracing us both for what Trenton might say.

“Tommy was shot outside his house earlier. Just after they brought Stella home.”

“Shot?” I said, feeling dizzy. All the air had been sucked out of the room while I tried to process his words. “But he’s okay?”

Trenton’s face fell. “It’s bad, Shep.”

I was getting angry, and I wasn’t sure why. “Like a drive-by or …?”

“We’re not exactly sure. The agents have been instructed to wait for Liis before giving any more info,” Trenton said.

America’s nose wrinkled. “Agents?”

Trenton gestured over his shoulder to the men in suits sitting at the dining table. “FBI.”

I leaned over to get a better look and then stood back upright. “What are FBI agents doing here?”

“We’re not sure about that, either. I think it has something to do with who shot Tommy. Maybe they’re on the Ten Most Wanted or something.”