"Not even remotely, Mom. Seriously. You've hurt so many people."
"What can I do? It's too late to make amends." Her shoulders slump, and I have to remember who she is and what she has done. I can't just look at her with my daughter eyes.
"If you mean that, then help me bring closure to the families you've hurt."
"How?" She furrows her brow in confusion.
"Give me a list of all your victims. Tell me where you hid all of the bodies. I know you. You must have a log of some kind."
She looks away, crossing her arms, the shackles clanking loudly against the metal table. "Mila."
That's it. That's all she says.
She rises and sighs. "Guard," she calls, avoiding my eyes. "I'm ready to go back to my cell."
Well. At least I tried. I should have known it would be asking too much of her. It's not because she didn't kill me that she would do this for me.
"I'll do it, Mila."
I jump up and rush to her.
"Say again, I don't think I heard you."
There's no way she just agreed to help me.
"You'll be doing it yourself. With my help or not. I want you to move on and have a life apart from the things I've done. If helping you is the only way to get you to stop being completely immersed in my..." She stumbles on the words and looks away. "My crimes. I'll do it."
Her motives are purely selfish.
She isn't helping me because she feels any sort of remorse for the things she has done. She's doing it because she doesn't want to feel guilty every time she thinks about me.
It's not much, but I'll take it.
I can't force her to feel guilty for the things she has done. You can't crawl into someone's mind and make them have the emotions that would be appropriate.
It's clear that Sveta Markov is a psychopath. But at least she'll help me.
"Thanks, Mom."
"I have a few logs. You’ll have to do some digging to find them.” She rattles off an address. “It’s a cemetery. I buried them by the cluster of graves at the back, by the statue. They all died from tuberculosis.” She turns back. “Come back in a week or so. I need time, Mila."
She doesn't look back, but it's still a win. I'll take it.
Like I told my mother, this won't bring her victims back, but they can be given proper burials.
My footsteps feel lighter as I walk out of the visiting room. T-Bone is waiting for me by the prison entrance, pacing. He wasn't too keen on letting me see my mother alone. He was concerned that it would upset me.
"How did it go?" T-Bone snakes an arm around my waist, tucking me into his side. He drops a kiss on the top of my head. "Do I need to go in there and kick her ass?"
"No." I laugh. "Your protective side can be put to rest. She's agreed to help me close out all of her murders."
"Shit, Mila. Are you absolutely sure that you want to put yourself through that?" His brow is furrowed in concentration, and I smooth it out with my index finger.
"I most definitely need to do this. All of those families deserve it."
He inhales, nodding his head.
"You're incredible, you know that?" He reaches out a hand and cups my cheek. "I mean it, Mila. There is so much strength in everything you've done and everything you're willing to take on. I know you feel like you've got to do it alone. That you think that's the only way you can be redeemed. But I want to help you. Let me help you. You don't have to go at this by yourself. I'm right here to give you whatever support you want or need."
I bite down on the inside of my cheek, and T-Bone strokes the dip in my skin. The gesture echoes the moment perfectly. I want to punish myself quietly, where no one can see. But T does. He sees me, and instead of cowering in fear, he's there. Willing to help me. Seeing me through the darkness of my history.
"If you promise to be around with all of the steak tartare I could ever want, then sure. You can help me."
"Thank you, Mila."
"What?" I don't quite understand why he would thank me.
"I know how hard it is for you to let people in. And I'm very grateful, very happy that I get to be that man."
I inhale and close my arms around his neck, holding him close to me like a solid grounding force in the world of the living. He's proving once again that he is the best.
"You know I should be the one saying that."
"How about this," he says, tucking me into his side as we walk to the car. "We can always be grateful to have the other there to help us deal with our baggage."
"Like actual skeletons in the closet?" I tease.
"Yup. That."
"How about the ghost of evil beige pants?"
T-Bone raises an eyebrow at me. "My pants?"
"I can't see your ass in these, T. It's a crime. And as an agent, you should be very concerned about that."
I dip my hand into the back pocket and give his left cheek a good squeeze. T laughs before kissing the crown of my head.
"The pants stay, Mila."
"Fine," I pretend to grumble, giving his butt another tap.
T-Bone takes my hand, kissing my knuckles, keeping our fingers locked as we drive back to his house.
The night sky stretches out before us. It's not exactly driving off into the sunset, but the moon is shining and the stars are winking at me, and for me, that's kind of the same thing.
Epilogue
Six Months Later
In a quick scan of the main floor of the house, I spot T-Bone sitting at the kitchen island, poring over case files. That cute little pucker is drawing his eyes together, and he is running his hand through his hair. Twice forward, once backward. Always in the same sequence. His thick blond hair sticks out every which way.
I have the biggest urge to go stand beside him, let my own hands dance through, and kneed those strong shoulders of his I love to nibble on.
But I have a mission.
It's an important one.
Cargo Pants Annihilation Mission.
It's not my first try, but this is it. I can feel it. This will be a victorious operation.
On the very tips of my toes, I make my way up the stairs and into the master bedroom.
The pile of offending cargo pants is right there on the very top shelf. T likes to keep them way up high so that I can't mess with them. I always find a way to hide them.
I might have only moved into his place a week ago, but even before then, I was plotting against his very ugly pants. A man who looks as good as him shouldn't be wrapped up in a beige tent.
I pull a pair down, and they all come tumbling down with a thunk. It echoes through the closet out into the bedroom. I stay very still for a few seconds, listening for the telltale sign of a chair scraping against the kitchen tiles.
Nothing. T-Bone must not have heard me.
"Victory is mine," I grunt, bundling all of the pants into my arms.
"Mila, what are you doing?" T-Bone asks, leaning against the bedroom door.
I jump, completely caught. I try to shove the mound of clothes behind my back and fail miserably.
"Nothing," I squeak. "How can a bull be so quiet?"
T ignores my question. "Are you trying to get rid of another pair of my cargo pants?"
"No." I shake my head emphatically, blinking rapidly, trying to play the innocent.
He holds out his hands, a smile on his handsome face. I lean up and kiss the scruff of his face, trying to distract him.
"That won't work, Mila. Give 'em."
"But hear me out. Jeans are just as versatile."
"I like having all my pockets. I like knowing I have everything within arm’s reach.
"Your ass is hidden in these." I pout.
"Well, my ass is only for your viewing pleasure, so that's a good thing."
T-Bone pulls the garments out of my hands and piles them on the bed and starts folding them up just so.
"You know, it's almost eerie how you are with your cargo pants and black tee uniform.”
He arches an e
yebrow up at me. "You can't mess with these anymore. There's important stuff I hide in these. I can't have you throwing anything out."
"What do you keep in these?" I ask, reaching out for a pair, my hands digging into the cavernous pockets. I narrow my eyes at him. "You wash these before putting them away. Why the hell would you store stuff in clean pants?"
"You're an impatient woman." He chuckles. He digs inside a pocket and pulls out a black velvet box.
My eyes pop out of my head, and my heart thunders in my chest.
"What is that?" I whisper, taking a step back. "What, T?"
He kneels down in front of me and takes my left hand in his.
"Mila Starling." His deep baritone tone isn't as smooth as it usually is, the thickness of it coated with emotion. "I've loved you for about as long as I've known you. You're wicked smart, you keep me on my toes, and I never know what to expect from you. You surprise me every day, and I'll love nothing more than to keep being surprised by you for the rest of my life. Do me the honor of marrying me?"
My legs give out, and I bury my face in his chest, inhaling his scent. For a few long seconds, I just stay very still, memorizing the thumping of his heart, the smell of his shirt, the feel of his scruff against my forehead. I want to stay in the moment for as long as possible.
"Hey, Mila. Is that a yes?"
"Of course it is." I weep.
"Those better be happy tears," he teases, tucking my hair behind my shoulders.
"They are," I swear. "I didn't expect this. We just moved in together."
"Well, in full disclosure, I was going to wait a few more months to ask you. But since you're intent on getting rid of my favorite hiding spot, it was best to do it now before you toss the ring into the trash."
T slides the ring onto my finger, the shiny stones glimmering in the closet light. It's a white gold band with a black diamond flanked by two rubies.
"This is so on-brand for me." I laugh.
"Yup, I figured you'd say that." He beams with pride, dipping down to kiss me softly.
"You did good, T," I whisper against his lips.
"I agree. I did. Because, somehow, I was led to you."
"Aw." I close my arms around his neck, and he lifts me clear off the floor, his hands cupping my ass as I wrap my legs around him. "You're such a softy for such a big Hairy Coo."
T-Bone kisses me again, squeezing me close to him.
In the animal world, I would be a vampire bat who would feast on his bull blood for thirty minutes a night.
In the human world, I'm his spooky woman, and he's my straight-laced guy. I make him wild, and he keeps me grounded. It works, somehow, that we are such opposites.
"What do you want to do to celebrate our new engagement?" he asks, leading us down the hall and back downstairs.
"Can we watch the new horror flick that just came out?" I ask, running my lips against his.
"How did I know you were going to ask that?" He chuckles.
"We can order a shit-ton of Chinese food, get in our PJs, and watch a movie."
"You've got yourself a deal if we get lemon chicken instead of spicy beef."
I feign a gasp. "We can just get both. That way, you don't have to be a cannibal."
"Why, thanks, future wife, for thinking of me."
"Always," I say before kissing him.
And that one little word sums up T and me perfectly.
Always.
The End
Not quite!
There are more FUC Academy books coming. Like Jumping the Bull by Jean Burke, and even Eve Langlais, the FUC world creator, has a book coming called Panda and the Kitty.
To find out more about these books and more, visit worlds.EveLanglais.com or stay in the loop with our newsletter: sign up here.
About the Author
Alexa Gregory writes love stories for the people that fate forgot. She believes that love should bring people together, especially in the darkest of times. She began writing before knowing what words were and never stopped. The home Alexa shares with her husband is overrun with filled notebooks, stacks of sticky notes, and enough books to build a bridge to another world. She is currently working on a novel or two.
alexagregoryauthor.com
Alexa’s Battiest Facebook Group
Alexa’s Newsletter
Bat and the Bone Page 9