“Eve took the gun from Blake, the hand that had been shaking steadied. “Mouse, I wish you were still here. This place was better when you were part of it.”

“They do the twenty-one-gun salute for the good guys, right? So I brought this.” Beckett pointed the gun in the sky. “For Mouse.”One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen shots exploded from Beckett’s gun. “Who am I fucking kidding? What the hell does a gun shot by me mean? Nothing special, that’s for damn sure. Fuck it.”“For Mouse, who watched over my sister and saved Blake and me from more than we could’ve handled in the woods that night.” Livia nodded at Beckett, and he squeezed the trigger. When the sound had cleared, she counted out loud. “Seventeen.”Kyle stepped forward and replaced Livia at Beckett’s arm. “For Mouse. I didn’t know you well, but I wish I had.” The air snapped with the shot. “Eighteen.”Cole rubbed Kyle’s shoulder as he approached. He took the gun from Beckett’s hand. “For Mouse, who protected Beckett from himself for years.” The gun popped again. “Nineteen.”Blake thought for a moment with the gun pointed at the ground, then aimed it at the sky. “For Mouse, who saved Livia’s life when I couldn’t. Thank you is not enough.” The gun took his gratitude to the heavens. “Twenty.”Eve took the gun from Blake, the hand that had been shaking steadied. “Mouse, I wish you were still here. This place was better when you were part of it.” The last shot was the most jarring, juxtaposed with the perfect silence of its wake.As if the bullet was a key in a lock, the gray skies opened and a quiet, lovely snow shower filtered down. The flakes decorated the hair of the six mourners like glistening knit caps.Eve turned her face to be bathed in the fresh flakes. “Twenty-one,” she said softly, replacing her earpiece.”

“And I know Blake had a bunch of fucking problems going on the night he was shot. But Mouse here made sure the hired guns were dead before they could hurt him. I don’t know if I get to call him a hero, if that’s allowed, because I’m a bad man, and he was my friend. But he was a hero to me.”

“She watched while the funeral director and his teenage son removed Mouse from his hearse. They were efficient and reverent. Eve put her wrist in her mouth. She had to get out of here. Seeing Mouse like this was grinding her down.Eve collapsed back into the hearse. The vehicle was so empty without him. His presence had gone with his body.”

“Livia had never wanted anything more than to taste his lips right then.“Would you mind very much if I kissed you?” she whispered.Blake shook his head.Livia leaned in and took a gentle kiss. His lips were soft, and they tasted perfect. The smell of his skin combined with that wonderful taste almost made her collapse.Blake steadied her by placing his hand against her chest. His splayed fingers must have felt how fast her heart was beating. Livia pulled back just a bit to see his eyes again. They were half closed and shimmering.It was his turn to whisper. “Would you mind very much if I kissed you?”She shook her head and waited, very still. Blake lifted his other hand to touch her face. Livia had to work not to press her skin into his fingers. His touch was light as a breeze. He traced the features of her face. He trailed his fingers down to her throat and up to her earlobe. He’s so gentle.As soon as the thought flashed through Livia’s mind, Blake grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking it enough to make her gasp. Then he kissed the living hell out of her.Oh, oh, OH. Livia felt her arms begin to shake, and Blake took more of her weight onto his forearm. She’d had no idea kissing was an art form. She knew now.”

“His miraculous hand went higher still, past his head. He stretched it as far as it would go and pointed it in the direction of the glow he’d seen from the parking lot. Mouse pointed to where he believed Blake might be. Just in case you need it, boss.”

“I can’t leave him here. Not with them. Not in the fucking dirt.” Beckett grabbed his flashlight with every intention of handing it to Eve so he could carry his friend—no matter how fucking big he was—to someplace better, when the light landed on Mouse’s bare chest.“What the hell?” Beckett touched Mouse’s chest again, and Eve took the light and centered it on the tattoo in question.Beckett traced it for a moment, his finger lingering on the knitting needles that set it apart from his own, and bowed his head. “Now that’s too fucking much,” he said softly. “That hurts too fucking much. Eve, not Mouse. He can’t be gone.”