Badd Motherf*cker(80)

“I’m Dru Connolly,” I said. “Welcome home.”

“Home?” Lucian asked, and it was just one word, but the inflection he lent that one syllable put a dozen questions out in the air.

Sebastian clapped his brother on the back. “Yes, home. For you, for all the others…” he curled me against his other side, “and for her, if that’s what she wants.”

A lifted eyebrow, and a single nod from Lucian. “Gonna be crowded, then.” He let go of my hand, and even offered me a small smile. “If Sebastian likes you, then pleased to meet you.”

“I more than like her, punk.”

This got Lucian’s attention. “No shit?”

Sebastian seemed to be able to read Lucian a hell of a lot better than I could, and they obviously had that silent guy-communication going on. “Yeah, no shit.”

Lucian nodded and shrugged. “All right then.” He had a huge backpack on his back, the kind people who hike the Appalachian Trail for weeks and months at a time use. “I’m hungry.”

And, just like that, all the Badd Brothers were home.

And, it seemed, so was I.





EPILOGUE





Zane





I fuckin’ hated suits. Put me in ghillie suit in the goddamn desert and I won’t complain, but when I stuff my ass into a tuxedo I’ll bitch till the cows come home.

Dru didn’t seem to give a shit. “It’s for like twenty minutes, Zane. Soon as we start the reception you can take the coat and tie off.”

“I want the goddamn tie off now,” I growled.

She just patted my chest. “But you’re the best man. You have to wear the tie. Plus, if you don’t wear the tie, none of the other boys will. And then all hell will break loose, and my wedding will be ruined. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

I frowned at her logic. “The stupid fuckin’ ties aren’t what’s keeping them in line, Dru, it’s the threat of violence and the promise of booze.”

She gave me her patented freeze-your-balls-off glare. “Wear the goddamn motherfucking tie, Zane Badd.”

God bless Sebastian and may he have a long life and a happy one with Dru Connolly, but god, it took balls to parlay with this woman. She was something else, that was for damn sure.

I held up my hands in surrender. “Fine, Jesus. But the second that service is over—”

“Then I’ll take the tie off for you, if you’re so worked up about it,” she cut in. “Just please quit bitching about it.”

“I can’t breathe wearing the fuckin’ thing,” I started.

Dru just hissed at me. “You’re a Navy SEAL, Zane. You can hold your breath for, like, ten minutes.”

“That’s beside the point,” I said. “Doesn’t make the goddamn monkey suit any more comfortable.”

She just shook her head. “Pussy.”

She turned away from me, then, because Baxter was rolling up on his Harley. The bastard had gotten one look at Xavier’s bike and had decided he needed one too, but of course he needed the biggest, baddest, loudest one ever made, so you could hear the stupid gorilla coming from a mile away. He wasn’t wearing a helmet, being absurdly vain about his hair, and he wore his tux like he’d been born in one. But then, he went to a lot of players’ dinners and such, so he wore one more frequently than I ever had.

Dru, wearing her wedding dress, gathered up the back of her dress and swung onto the bike behind him. I was pretty sure only Dru Connolly could pull this off. She’d taken her old wedding dress, the one that douche-canoe Michael hadn’t ever even seen her in, and went to town with a pair of shears and a needle and thread. A joke, a joke—I’m just kidding.

She’d taken it to a qualified seamstress and had it professionally altered. I’d never seen the original version, but this dress looked pretty good to me. I’d heard she’d had the top part loosened so she could breathe in it, and had the skirt part cut away up to her thighs so she could walk it in while leaving the back long enough to be a real train. I don’t know how the seamstress had managed it, but she had, and Dru looked fuckin’ bangin’. Classy, sexy, and regal all at once.

This being Dru and Bast, the wedding was anything but traditional. The service was being held on the docks outside the bar, and the reception was on the street outside the bar…during normal business hours. It was seven p.m., and Bax was only taking her around the block so she could make her grand entrance on the back of a Harley. No aisle, no “Here Comes the Bride”. Well, actually, I think Cane and Cor were planning on surprising her with an impromptu version of it.