Page 56 of Beyond Redemption

Olive glanced over and caught Trenton watching her and lifted her hand in an easy wave. He returned it automatically, the motion as instinctive as breathing. She grinned and went back to counting kids.

“Looks like you’re still her go-to,” Travis said quietly. “Look at her over there, trying to keep track of all those kids. Still, she looks for you.”

I watched Olive and the children move through the playground in overlapping bursts of motion and laughter, unaware of anything beyond the small world they had created. The compound wasn’t home and it never would be, but it offered shelter and protection, and for now, that was enough. As a family, we weren’t healed, we weren’t finished being angry, and a reckoning was just beginning, but watching Olive standing in the center of our next generation, commanding her small kingdom with patience and a smile, for the moment, hope began to whisper in my ear.

“I’m sorry, Trent. I really am,” I said before I could stop myself.

His jaw twitched. He took in a breath to let me have it, but before he could, three uniformed men approached from the south corridor, boots crunching against gravel as they slowednear our table, shoulders squaring and expressions drifting into something between respect and nervousness.

“Sir,” the largest of them spoke first.

I began to answer, but Travis beat me to it.

“Whitmore” he said, a sour expression twisting his face. “Still smelling like a porta-potty in July. The compound rationing soap?”

Everyone froze, unsure what the next move should be.

Whitmore was as tall as me, but as muscular as Travis. He leaned his head back and cackled. “You dumb fuck. What the hell have you been up to?”

Travis stood and hugged Whitmore, then the other two, introducing them as Hensley and Williams.

“Hensley said you rolled in last night,” Whitmore said.

“This whole op is for your crazy ass family, huh?” Hensley said. “I thought your stories were nuts last time you were here, but not one but two mafias after you? Witness protection? A governor’s daughter and granddaughter in the crosshairs, all of it you married into and it’s all like… six degrees of Kevin Bacon? Unreal, dude. Y’all are like cartoons.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Travis said, laughing. “Your uncle faked his own death to avoid taxes and ended up getting robbed of every dime by a ladyboy in Thailand.”

“Wait, what?” I asked.

They began to walk off, roasting each other for a full ten seconds before Travis finally stopped and turned around. “You guys coming or you gonna sit there looking like you’re free to a good home?”

My brothers stood up and followed him. I frowned for a moment, staring at Hensley.

Travis slowed and pivoted, beckoning me forward. I slid out of my seat and fell in behind them, aware the rest of my brothers would rather I hadn’t.

As I followed, watching everyone in the compound engage with my baby brother, I realized Travis had become something of a local legend here. Everyone we passed greeted him, thanked him, and tried to pull him into whatever they were doing that night.

In hindsight, it made sense. Years earlier, when Travis was still operating as an FBI asset, I’d sent him into Colorado to pick up what he thought were two contacts. Naomi had gotten Zeke out of the Cheyenne Mountain Complex’s research facility after months of torture, then kept him alive long enough for Travis to find them in an isolated stretch of terrain and get them out, delivering them safely to the compound. He stayed in Arizona longer than planned to make sure Zeke made a full recovery, earning loyalty the old-fashioned way. I hadn’t known then that favor would later mean life or death for our family. The ABRP had claimed him as one of their own because he’d given them something no one else could: Marcel’s daughter and son-in-law, relatively unharmed.

“We’re having a get-together,” Williams said. “A lot of the same guys you bunked with are still here. Parks, Vaughn, Torres, Hockenberry… We were all hoping you’d at least stop by.”

“Especially Torres,” Whitmore teased.

“Leave her alone,” Travis said. “She’s cool as shit and y’all know it.”

“She might’ve teared up a little when you started talking about your wife,” Whitmore said.

Travis’s face screwed into disgust then noticed the curious stares from his brothers. “No. No, no, no. She never made a move on me. Not even close.” He turned to Whitmore. “She was just chatty and you assholes still won’t leave her alone about it? She’s lonely. Take her into town once in a while for fuck’s sake.”

“I heard Meatball broke her heart,” Hensley said. “Turned on the charm, made promises, then ghosted her thirty seconds into her walk of shame. And, uh… he also said he could take you.”

Travis took note of their expressions and then scoffed, shaking his head. “You just want to stage another throw down and bet on me against the guys who don’t know better.”

They laughed, each of them admitting they’d thought about it, then thanking him for the money he’d made them after dropping a former Golden Gloves boxer turned militia—someone I hadn’t met yet named Jamison.

Travis hesitated briefly before glancing back at us. “You up for a guys’ night?”

Tyler hesitated. “I’d have to check with Ellie.”