Wood was not wrong about that.

"Okay," she said quietly, turned to Ty, lifted her shades to her forehead and gave him big eyes that told him without words to stop telling people she was a goof.

That was when Ty chuckled.

Then he squeezed her ass, gave her a small heft to communicate his intentions, her legs loosened from his hips and he dropped her to her heels.

She moved her shades back to her eyes and leaned her body into Ty as Ty said to Wood, "Lunch."

"Right," Wood jerked up his chin. "Take your time. You been doin' so much overtime, actually saves me money you take a long lunch."

"Thanks, man," Ty muttered.

"Later, Wood," she gave her farewell.

"Later, Lexie," Wood returned.

Ty moved, Lexie grabbed his hand and laced her fingers through his.

When she did, his tightened.

They were halfway down the forecourt when she asked, "Overtime?"

"Wood and Pop are always busy and gettin' busier, especially in the summer," Ty answered. "They got a good reputation for their work and got enough work that they can keep the cost of parts low and pass that on to customers so folks from Chantelle and even Gnaw Bone go outta their way to use us for regular maintenance and repairs. But Pop's been workin' on Harleys for goin' on fifty years, he's good at it, passed that shit down to all his boys so men with bikes from as far away as Aspen, Grand Junction, Glenwood Springs even Denver bring 'em to Pop. They were two mechanics down when they took me on and they held off hirin' in order to cover me when I got out. Their desire to continue tradition of good work, they don't hire just anyone and still haven't found another guy. Seein' as I had to take a few unexpected days off, so Wood wouldn't eat that, I started workin' late to make up the time. Then he needed me, I kept that shit up and started workin' Thursdays. Gym stays open late, could go after the garage was closed and did 'cause I had no reason to get home."

It was more than that. It was all the evidence of the them he fucked up all around that he told himself to get shot of and never could bring himself to do it that made him not want to go home. Now, he was glad he didn't get rid of it. But just a day ago, walking down the stairs in the morning and up them at night was a form of torture.

Not to mention, considering he was an experienced mechanic therefore his salary was far from shit and Pop and Wood paid time and a half overtime, he'd made a fuckload of cake.

"Are you going to keep doing that, the overtime, I mean?" she asked and his hand gave hers a squeeze.

"Depends," he answered then joked, "I gotta save for four college tuitions, I probably should start now."

He felt her shades on him as they turned the corner to the sidewalk and he looked down at her.

"Is money an issue?"

She clearly didn't take it as a joke.

"Babe, we stick together, nothin' is an issue."

"What?"

He stopped, stopping her with a tug on her hand then he drew her close, letting her hand go and winding both arms around her. When her shades hit his, he spoke.

"This is it, Team Walker, you and me. We want somethin', we find a way to get it. We hit a rough patch, we find a way to get over it. We face a challenge, we find a way to beat it. It's good, we savor it. What I'm sayin' is, this team is a winner. We never forget to celebrate the victories and we get a lotta those because we never admit defeat."

She stared up at him, unmoving, silent and with the dark lenses on her shades, he couldn't see her eyes.

So his arms gave her a squeeze and he called, "Lexie?"

"Team Walker," she whispered.

"Team Walker," he repeated firmly.

Her hands slid up his arms, his shoulders so both could curl around the sides of his neck where she squeezed as she got up on her toes and said softly, "I like that."

"That's good because the position you play on this team lasts a lifetime."

She grinned then smiled then giggled.

Then she put pressure on his neck, he bent and took her mouth.

Then he let her go, took her hand and guided her down three blocks and across the street to the diner.

They were seated in a booth at the back, a booth he requested because no one was sitting around it so no one could overhear. His back was to the wall; his woman was across from him.

They'd ordered, got their drinks and Ty started sharing, including Detective Angel Pena's involvement which got him a loud gasp then a sweet smile that was not for him but for Pena, who she might not think about a lot but she clearly liked. It was a smile Pena would have liked to have seen. It was a smile Ty was glad he never would.

Their food was served and he was in the middle of telling her about Crabtree when his phone rang, he leaned forward, pulled it out, looked at the display and it said, "Tate Calling."

"Eat, mama, gotta take this. It's Tate," he muttered, she nodded and continued to devour her curly fries and cheeseburger as he flipped his phone open and put it to his ear. "Yo."

"Brother, you sittin' down?"

Fuck.

"What?"

"Misty Keaton is dead."

Ty froze. Then his blood turned to ice. Then he guessed their play.

"Do not tell me they're gonna try to pin that shit on me."

"Hard to do since she was done with Rowdy Crabtree's service revolver."

Holy fuck.

Two birds, one stone.

His eyes went to his wife who did not miss his words, tone and vibe and was staring at him with one ketchup soaked fry halfway to her mouth, eyes big, face pale. Ty gave her a short head shake in hopes of calming her fears. She nodded once but he knew by the look in her eyes he hadn't succeeded in calming her fears.

As he did this, he asked Tate, "No shit?"

"From your brief this mornin', seems like momma is smothering the weak cubs," Tate remarked.

Ty sat back and looked to the side. "Means neither of them can flip."

"Exactly what it means," Tate confirmed.

"You think they know Julius's connection got shit on both of 'em?" Ty asked.

"They do, Chace Keaton is up next."

"Crabtree sittin' in a cell?" Ty asked.

"Crabtree is in the wind."

Hope.

"How'd Crabtree find wind?" Ty asked.

"No clue. Keaton reported his wife missin' day before yesterday. Yesterday mornin' they found her body dumped at the side of the access road that leads up to Miracle Ranch. Yesterday afternoon, they caught one fuckuva break, happening on the kill sight deep in Harker's Wood in a way that you'd think they knew just where to look. Lotsa blood, all Misty's, found the murder weapon tossed 'bout two hundred yards from the scene. Ballistics match came in this mornin'. Crabtree did not report to work yesterday or today. My guess, he woke up, found his revolver gone, knows the way they play and wasted no time packing his bag."

Ty gave five seconds headspace to Misty Keaton taking bullets and her body dumped at the side of an access road. His grand plan o' vengeance included all involved living a long fucking time with the bitter taste of Ty's retribution on their tongue. He hated the bitch and he wanted her to pay. But not that way. Not that he felt bad for her, the world was not a poorer place without that toxic pussy in it, just that that punishment wasn't near enough.

Then he let that bitch go and noted, "Hard for them to hand Crabtree his shoelaces, he's in the wind."

"Yep," Tate agreed.

"You think we got a problem with Julius's boy?"

"I think it would be worth it to have a conversation with him but, no. Sources say CPD is runnin' scared and not just your man in Dallas. I think these are desperate acts, not strategic maneuvering based on covert intel," Tate replied.

"Then it's good news Julius is in town, he can have a word."

"Julius is in town?" Tate asked and Ty's eyes went to Lexie.

"Yeah," Ty answered. "Seemed he was gettin' impatient with me and Lex takin' our time reuniting so he decided to get Lex's ass home. To do that, he phoned Ella and to get Ella to phone Lex, he told her I'd been in a car crash, was dyin' and if she didn't haul her ass from Florida, she'd lose her chance to say good-bye to me on my deathbed."

Loaded silence then a low, "You are fuckin' shittin' me."

"No."

Cautious silence then, "She haul her ass from Florida?"

"We're at the diner havin' lunch."

Total silence then, "Brother..." pause then, "fuck, it good?"

He smiled at his wife. Then he told Tate quietly, "Yeah, brother, all good."

Ty watched as her face lost some of her concern and got soft.

Yeah, all good.

"Good," Tate said quietly back.

Unfortunately, Ty had to bring the conversation back around. "Seems we gotta step shit up before everyone who can prove I didn't do it gets dead."

At that, Lexie's eyes got big again. He gave her an "it's all good" chin lift even though it wasn't. This time, she trusted him and popped the fry in her mouth.

"Seems we do. I'll talk to Deke," Tate replied.

"I'll talk to Julius."

"Right," then, "happy for you, Ty, Lexie's back."

"Not as much as me."

A smile in his voice with, "I bet." Then, "I'll tell Laurie."

"Good. I'll tell Lex you're tellin' Laurie."

A chuckle in Tate's voice with, "Good."

"Junior high," Ty muttered.

"Yeah, but not the shit part of it," Tate returned.

He had that right.

"We done?" Ty asked.

"For now," Tate answered.

"Then later."

"Later."

He flipped his phone shut and caught Lexie's eyes as she was taking a big bite of burger. It wasn't hard to catch her eyes. She was staring at him.

She put the burger down, chewed twice and with mouth full, prompted, "Well?"

"Misty's dead."

Her entire torso jerked forward and back as she did a slow blink and stopped with eyes wide.

Then, mouth still full, she asked loudly, "What?"

"The wicked bitch is dead, mama."

She stared, chewed, swallowed, grabbed her soda, sucked deep on her straw, slammed the cup down and instantly commenced throwing sass. "Well, shit! If she's dead, how can I have a bitch smackdown with her?"

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.