Slim being Brock’s handle.

“And I think this problem with how you men do your thing is only an issue if you’re dirty,” Hank continued. “Or up to shit you don’t want attention on, seeing as people in this room operate in circles where they might get that attention.”

“In other words, you don’t think this is a problem for anyone but a couple allegedly dirty cops,” Lee pressed.

“I think, when the Rock Chicks were at their zenith, yes, it was a problem. I think when Chaos was at war, yes, it was a problem. I think what Sebring does gets under some skin, but not enough for it to be a problem. I think Delgado operates on a level that’s well beyond their scope, so it shouldn’t be a problem. And I think things calming down lately, none of this is any longer a problem,” Hank replied.

“The Dream Team was kidnapped a couple of months ago, Hank,” Ally reminded him. “That’s not exactly Tex blowing up a building or Stella’s apartment exploding, but it isn’t exactly calm.”

“With what we’ve seen, done and experienced, not a person at this table wanders around anything less than vigilant,” Hank said. “We stay vigilant. We keep our ears and eyes open. We might be wading into exposing two dirty cops, that’s gonna happen anyway. That’s enough to worry about. Bogart is already filth, even if he’s not a dirty cop. I don’t really give a shit what he thinks about how my brother manages his business. So it goes without saying I don’t care what his friends think.”

Ally conceded the point with a tip of her head to the side.

“Then we start with Ryn asking Cisco for a sit-down. She gets it, we plan that, keep her covered, and reconvene when she gets whatever she gets,” Hawk decreed.

Mag locked eyes with Boone.

Boone clenched his hand around the phone he was still holding.

Mo, who was sitting next to him, reached around and grabbed Boone by the back of the neck.

He gave a tight squeeze and let him go.

Boone forced himself to relax.

He let out a breath.

And the meeting was finished.

Chapter Eight

Just Right

Boone

Boone did not have a good feeling about the fact that Ryn had informed him she was in the bridal department of Nordstrom.

He had a worse feeling as he approached the bridal department of Nordstrom and saw, lazing around on couches, various members of the Rock Chicks and all of the Dream Team.

In a nutshell, it was Indy, Roxie, Daisy and Shirleen of the RCs.

And Ryn, Evie, Hattie and Pepper of the Dream.

Pepper was up and not wearing a bridal gown.

She was modeling a trench coat.

“Secret agent woman!” Daisy was shouting in her country lilt. “We need to find you a fedora!”

Boone’s eyes wandered, and if he was not wrong, it was Daisy’s kid toddling around on the floor with Lee and Indy’s two, along with Roxie’s brood.

Boone wanted kids.

He wanted three, like his family.

Though not all boys. If he had his choice, there’d be at least one girl.

However, he’d take them as they came and not be disappointed.

When he found the right woman, he wanted a big house with lots happening all the time. He wanted to be busy with sports and recitals and teaching kids how to drive and helping them with their homework and then graduations and weddings, all this until he retired.

Then he’d park his and his woman’s asses by whichever kid lived where they wanted to live, buy a house with a pool, and the only things he had to do was keep the pool clean and put up with his children giving him shit about spoiling his grandchildren.

That was a beautiful life.

That was his goal.

And that was what he was going to do. For him, his parents…

And for Jeb.

But that wasn’t his now. It was Daisy and Marcus, Lee and Indy, and Roxie and Hank’s now.

It would be his later.

His gaze found Ryn.

“I don’t mean disrespect, Daisy,” Hattie was saying, “but hasn’t that kinda been…done?”

“Take off the trench, you get the skin, yeah. Take off the trench, she’s in a three-piece suit, and she’s gotta take that off too, no,” Daisy returned.

“I like it,” Pepper declared.

“Hey!” Ryn called.

She’d spotted him and was up out of her couch and making her way to him.

He didn’t want to ask.

But he had to ask.

His gaze going top to toe to eyes, and even though he’d totally still do her in that getup, it came out, “What the fuck?”

And it came because she was wearing a low-cut white vest, white slacks, a full-length white fur coat, gold high-heeled sandals and a cowboy hat.

She smiled at him. “Madonna. The video for her song ‘Music.’ I’m gonna crush that shit in one of my ‘What a Feeling’ routines.”

It was like she was speaking in code.

She read his confusion and explained, “Smithie’s switching to a revue.”

“Say what?” he asked.

“I’ll explain later.”

If she was having fun with her girls, he didn’t want to pull his Extreme Alphas Club card, but he was in the bridal shop at Nordstrom, she was being cute, he’d had no food that day, and he wanted to take her to lunch.

But mostly he wanted to get the fuck out of the bridal section of Nordstrom.

Before he could ask how long this was going to take, Daisy spoke up again.

“Fabulous! We need a man’s perspective.”

He knew only one thing about the scenario he currently found himself in.

Whatever she needed out of a man, he did not want to be that man.

Daisy was approaching.

And she was doing it asking, “Right, would you want to watch Pepper take all that off, trench, three-piece suit, down to some spectacular lingerie?”

Pepper was gorgeous.

She didn’t hold a candle to Ryn, but she was far from difficult to look at.

“I’m not answering that question,” he declared.

Ryn busted out laughing so hard, she fell into him, throwing her head back, and there went the cowboy hat.

Then her head fell forward, and it was resting on the point of his shoulder.

He shifted his attention and saw Daisy looked pouty, and she was good at it, which meant Boone also saw why Marcus Sloan lived for two things: his wife and his family.

But his attention shifted again because he still heard Ryn’s laughter, but he also felt her forehead come off his shoulder, so he looked down at her.

Her eyes were shining, her face was warm, and she declared, “That was choice. Perfect answer, baby. That being not answering at all and yet saying you totally want to watch Pepper strip out of a trench and suit.”

And then, for some reason he couldn’t comprehend, since they were seeing each other and he’d just been put in a position of somewhat saying without saying he’d be down watching her friend strip, she immediately broke out into a rendition of David Cassidy’s “I Think I Love You.”

Though she only sang the part that had those words.

I think I love you.

He felt it, deep in his stomach, the look on her face, how carefree she was in that moment in that bizarre outfit, leaning into his side, how comfortable she was busting into song, even though, he had to admit, her singing voice wasn’t all that great.