Epilogue

3 years later

Brent Dearden pushes his sunglasses up as he enters the small café.
Coin de paradis. Slice of heaven.
Cute.
If former gangsters could be called cute.

Had someone told him a few years ago that Carlos Castellano would be running a café with his wife in some small French town, Brent would have suggested them for a psych evaluation. Yet here he is.

He's been to France a few times, twice for business and once for pleasure. Each time, he's had the chance to visit small bakeries and cafes and one of the things he loves about them is that smell. Vanilla and delicious doughy pastry scents linger enticing a person to forget all about diet and waistband restrictions.

The place is packed inside but no one appears to be in any great hurry which, it seems, is a defining French trait. He manages to make his way over to the counter where along with that brunette is another employee working in synchronicity to handle the expresso coffee machines.

The brunette turns to the girl laughing over the steam before firing back in rapid French that's so dilated with the region's dialect, Brent has a hard time understanding it, especially over all the other noise. It's good to see the woman laughing like that. The last time he'd seen her she'd been terrified and splattered with blood. Now, she's put on a little more weight, which on her isn't a bad thing as she certainly carries it well, her hair's shorter and happiness seeps through her very pores. Yet it's still her. Those pretty features are unforgettable.

"Hello Sir, can I help you?" she asks in French and that accent paired with those big brown eyes and pretty 'girl next door' thing she has going for her, is enough to make Brent envious for just a second of Carlos Castellano.
There's a flicker of recognition that passes across her face as she sweeps over him but nothing it seems that she could pinpoint.

"My name's Brent Deardon, tell your..." he pauses glancing down to the golden band on her finger before carrying on, "husband, I'll be here until closing."

Her lips twist slightly and Brent feels the flickers of a grin forming on his own lips when he sees that tiny little indent in her brow by still not being able to place him.

Jerking his chin as a sign of 'see you later', Brent luckily spots an empty seat in one of the corner booths just as a couple are leaving. Snagging it, he orders himself a large cup of coffee and prepares to wait.

**************


As the evening draws closer, the place slowly starts emptying out. Brent waits patiently, having done stake-outs longer than this. He shuffles again on his seat deliberating on whether to take another toilet break soon. Before he does though, someone slides into the seat opposite.
Carlos freaking Castellano.

And man does he look good. Guess small town, family life really does suit the motherfúcker.
The hair's shorter and he has a trimmed beard, not to mention that slight paunch he has under the light blue shirt.
"Deardon," he glowers clearly unhappy at seeing the man, "hoped to never see you again."

Brent gives a short, unmeaning bark of laughter.
"Good to see you too, brother. Quite the setup you have here. So what name do you and your girl go by now?" replies Brent.
Carlos's eyes narrow before he rolls them, "as if you don't already know. Charlotte prefers to go by Lola. And as you already know I'm Antonio Carlos Russo, just like we've always been."
"Right, of course."
The meaningful look from Carlos is wasted on Brent but he's generous enough not to call bullshít on that. He's not here to start anything with Castellano-sorry-Russo.

Carlos's gaze flickers over to his wife momentarily who is starting to wipe down the machines, indicating he's not got much alone time left to deal with whatever new mess Deardon is shovelling now.

"So why don't you cut to the chase. You here on official business?"
He's built too much here now to lose it all. Hell, he's even learnt French!
"No, here in an unofficial capacity but...it does relate to...one of your relatives, shall we say?"
Carlos's jaw drop before he groans, "what the fúck? I practically handed him to you, risking my girl for that stunt and you idiots have-"

"Jesus, calm down. That's not what I was going to say," interrupts Brent.
"Okay..."
"We got him, cut him a deal. He gave us some dirt on Moretti and saved himself life. It was cut to 30 but got word yesterday someone had him wacked."

 Carlos exhales deeply. God, he didn't think...he didn't think his brother would actually be killed. Of course, it should have been expected but Marco...Although Marco's been dead to Carlos the minute he pointed a gun at Lola.

"So," drawls Brent, "you want me to say 'sorry for your loss' or 'thank-fúck'?"

The man opposite Brent quirks his lips up into a smile, something that comes a whole lot easier to him these days.
"Now you're asking me what I wanna hear?"
Brent clicks his tongue against his teeth, "no, guess not. You gotta admit, world's a better place without him in it though."
"That," sighs Carlos, "is true." 

A moment of silence passes between them as they each reflect on that. It's only broken as Lola slides over and hesitantly hinders at the booth opening.

 "Everything okay, honey?" she asks in English this time to Carlos.
Carlos gives her a warm smile, extending his arm out and gently tugging her to take a seat beside him. As she does, he lazily hangs an arm over her shoulders, tucking her into his side.
"Yeah, Lola you remember Agent Deardon right? He met us right before we left."
Recognition finally dawns on Lola.
"Oh of course! Hi. So...what are you...doing here?"
And just like that she remembers his job status and all her worries resurface. That first few months had been hell. She was in an almost constant state of panic that Marco or the US government or someone else from Carlos's past would come to hurt them. Though as the months grew on, those fears only resurfaced occasionally. Having her family around certainly helped and she doesn't just mean Carlos.
They'd managed to track down her paternal grandparents. People who from everything her father had said (or not) about them, she was expecting an icy response from. Instead when she arrived on their doorstep, they'd burst into tears, hugging her close. Like everyone else they had their own set of regrets but all that now was null and void. Their guilt did lead them to pressure Carlos and her into throwing the wedding. Something that had to be fast tracked, unless she wanted to waddle down the aisle, which she did not.

"Chill out sweetheart, I just had a message for your man."
"Yeah, he came to say that Marco...Marco's dead," explains Carlos putting in a far more delicate way than Brent did.
Lola gasps, her eyebrow crinkling as she processes this. Relief fills her entire being, glad that 3 years later that danger is finally, finally over. Her alleviation only lasts for a moment though because her eyes quickly cut to Carlos and she wonders how he's handling it.

 "Oh," she simply states giving a gentle squeeze to his hand draped over her shoulders.
"I'm okay piccola," he whispers back, in response to that assessing look of hers.
She nods but brown eyes don't leave his face and he can't help but smile at that.
That family-the Castellano's- were only his family on paper. This family he has now is his real family. They laugh and love freely, they live peacefully and most of all, there is no watching their backs. Arguments revolve around menu pricing, place setting for dinner, cursing in front of their son; all small, insignificant matters that at the end of the day don't make him feel damned.

Their gaze is broken when the cry of 'maman' echoes followed by the scampering of little feet. The entire table turns to witness a cubby, little 2 year old propelling himself onto the bench before Lola hauls him up and sets him on her lap.

"Papa," he gurgles, slapping a hand on the table in a way that makes Carlos cringe due to the sound of the impact.
"Joue avec moi! Papa, joue avec moi!-"
"Lucian, later," firmly replies Carlos at his son's cries to play. 

While his son understands a lot of English, his grandparents and those around him speak in French so of course that is the first language that Lucian knows. Carlos is not too worried because at least in school, Lucian will learn English but he's more concerned about teaching his son Italian and whether he even should. The type of people he's descended from is something he's shamed of but his heritage, his culture? No, he's loved that part and he hopes to instil in his son that he is equally French and Italian.
For now, though, Italian food will have to suffice. And even that, like most of his food ends up over his face rather than in his actual mouth.
"Papa," whines Lucian before his attention goes to the man opposite them.

Brent takes in the 2-year-old with black hair and big brown eyes staring back intently at him. His lips quirk as he spots the very distinct similarity between the boy's intense, untrusting, assessing gaze and that of his father's.
"Bonjour," Lucian finally states, more of a test than an actual welcoming.
"Hello," repeats Brent in English offering no more.
Lucian's gaze slightly tips to his father before asking Brent, "êtes-vous ici pour prendre mon papa loin?"

Brent suppresses the laughter boiling at his throat. Isn't he the little hero? Probably doesn't know why or how but he knows something's up with his parents.
Controlling himself Brent answers, "nope. You and your mom can keep him."
Just with that the kid's entire demeanour changes and he graces Brent with a full blown smile that stuns Brent for a moment. Definitely his mom's killer smile. He hopes both Carlos and Lola are prepared when that kid becomes a serial heartbreaker because for sure, that combination of French and Italian is going to have the girls flocking to him.

Carlos attempts to give Brent a sarcastic smirk but his actual joyous smile is threatening to explode over his features. Before he can follow it up with someone sarcastic or witty, his wife interrupts.

"Brent, I have to give this one a bath but we'd love it if you could stay for at least dinner."
Both son and father's features twist into a scowl. Lucian at the mention of the word 'bath' and Carlos at the invitation he doesn't remember consenting to.

Deardon's eyes shift from Carlos to Lola before the bastard gives her a wide charming smile and accepts the offer.

***************************************

Having managed to wrestle Lucian into bed, Carlos and Lola set the table for dinner. Their little apartment above the café isn't huge but it has plenty of room and is beautiful. In a few years, Carlos plans on moving them into a bigger house, especially as he plans to give Lucian a few siblings, but for now their apartment is home.

"Hey," softly whispers Lola placing a hand on his shoulder, "how are you really doing with...with Marco's death?"
Carlos turns around, leaning against the counter before pulling her into his hold.
"Piccola, really I'm...relieved. Not that I was worried about him being an issue in our lives now but I am glad he'll never even get the chance to hurt you again."
Lola's still not completely won over. Despite her encouragement, Carlos has never sought the help she feels he should have. The professional kind. He functions fine, sleeps fine and loves just fine but....it's almost like he refuses to acknowledge that past part of him. And frankly, she's just not sure how healthy that is.

" 'Me'? Baby, he murdered your parents-your mom right in front of you! Are-"
"Lola, as far as I am considered he got what he deserved. He-we-did some terrible things, him arguably more so than me, but he was unapologetic in his brutality. I knew walking away from him-that life- with you that day, the next time I would ever even consider laying my eyes on him again would be in hell. He may have an express ticket there now but I don't plan on purchasing mine anytime soon. I'm going to fully ride this sweet life out first with you, piccola."

Lola feels heart melting, her entire being leaning towards him as she wonders how he has the incredible ability to not only set her at ease within minutes but at the same time turn her on. Not in a raunchy turn me on way, but in the same way she felt seeing him hold their son for the first time, or dance their first dance at their wedding. The sort of 'he's such a nice, wholesome, guy' turn me on that seems to just be a primal attraction instinct.

 "Baby..." she trails off, hands smoothing up his obliques.
He pecks her lips before they curl when hearing her mewl of protest.
"You invited Deardon to dinner, remember?"
She pouts, "we have time."
Right on cue they both hear the definitive taps on the door.
Carlos chuckles as Lola groans. He gives her áss a quick squeeze and pat before sending her to get the door as he follows right behind.

******************************

Sitting at the table Brent almost curses himself for accepting the gracious offer. Yes, it is nicer to eat with people he knows rather than by himself in a poky little restaurant near his hotel but he wonders if awkward silences are worth the fabulous food.

 He has no idea what to say to Carlos Castellano. His life has always been straight and narrow up until meeting Castellano because from there onwards things took a nose-dive into grey. He used to know the line. Him-the good guy- on one end and them-the bad guys on the other. And the people associated with those bad guys, they chose to be on that end and that's their choice. That was him. That was him until a while ago. Now...now he doesn't know if it's her or he really is seeing shades of grey because of his altered beliefs.

Thankfully, Lola breaks the awkward silence and his train of thought.
"So Brent are you still with the FBI?"
Brent quirks his eyebrow answering, "you know you're off the watch-list, right?"
She gives him a one of her sweet, girl-next-door smiles and shakes her head.
"But to answer your question, I am for now but...I'm looking to move. Maybe in a few years."
"Oh? Any ideas what you want to do after?"
"Probably stay in law enforcement."
She nods following the question up with another.

Brent sits through the interrogation with amusement. He's not one for much conversation, probably a level above Carlos but definitely a few below Lola. For her gracious offer though, he answers each one with more than a few words. With the food eaten, Brent is feeling far more relaxed sipping the truly excellent wine. That is until, Carlos completely knocks him off balance.

"Do you know anything more about the Moretti's?"

Carlos watches in concern as Brent tenses up. On top of everything the stabbing guilt has always been there. For 3 years now he's lived not knowing what happened to the girl he promised to help, wondering if she hates him now, if all that hidden sweetness has hardened. If he's caused that in her, he doesn't know how he can manage to live with that. He'll have to but there'll certainly be moments he's going to be caught off guard with unknown.

"Things went to shít after you bailed. Few months after we managed to comb through the town. Most of them got out on bail with their fancy lawyers, some ended up in the slammer but there wasn't enough dirt on Moretti. The deal with Marco helped but lawyers said we'd need more for a solid case. About a year later, seems you set off another family whistle-blower.-"
"Eliza?"
Shit, he had not meant for that to happen. He'd hoped, prayed she'd taken the tickets as soon as she realised what was happening and got the hell out of there like he had. Seems not though.
Brent nods, "yep. Gave us enough too. Trial didn't take too long. We cut her a deal for the information-"

"Did you out her?"

 Like hell he did. When classy elegant and way too young for him Eliza Moretti had handed Brent those documents, wearing slippers, a nightie, a long coat and those bruises, that had been the exact moment he no longer saw simple contrast but red.

 "She was kept out of it. Daddy on the other hand is serving time along with a lot of his 'associates'. The mom was adamant to stick with him though."
"And Eliza?"
Brent shrugs, "no idea. Moved on, I'm guessing."

 Apparently, someone had seen Eliza fighting with her mom outside the courtroom when her daddy got convicted so whatever it was about, clearly she's on bad terms with her folks. Just as well because that girl is smart beyond her years and if she were to have joined the family business, Lord knows what kind of unstoppable operation they'd be running now.

"Good, I hope so," murmurs Carlos.
"Me too."

 Carlos's eyes sharpen at Brent's tone, a surge of protectiveness ebbing through him. Maybe he has no right to play the big-brother role but he's damn well feeling it. He knows Eliza. He knows that life and he knows how harsh, isolate and cold it can be. He knows how much people like them savour the sweet when they finally get even a titbit of it and how much it can destroy them if they can't hold onto it. Mr. Hotshot FBI Agent may think it's only fun and games but Carlos is sure that those 'fun and games' are going to burn Eliza.

"She's like a sister to me, Deardon," mutters Carlos causing Lola to try and smother her grin.

 She's never met Eliza but from what Carlos has told her about the girl, she feels the sisterly love. But as a straight female, she can recognise a good looking man when she sees one and maybe...maybe it might be nice for Eliza to find herself after the oppression. Maybe she could start, end or squeeze Brent into the middle of that adventure too.

Brent's not deterred though. He knows him and Moretti are never going to work out. First of all, that initial attraction, he's pretty sure is due to his tiny, smidge of a 'white-knight' complex. Secondly, he has his own woman issues at the moment and lastly he has no clue where on Earth Eliza Moretti is and even if he did, he's not going to stalk her for a taste of that young pússy.

"Relax, Castellano- Shit. Wait, it's not Castellano anymore is it?"
Lola titters with laughter and Carlos's lips pull into a smile that comes easier to him now.
"How much of that wine have you had, Brent?" Lola asks, "maybe you should crash on our sofa tonight?"
" 'Sofa'?"
She rolls her eyes then corrects, "couch."
Their American English has certainly mixed with the British English over the isles and now Lola catches herself using certain British English words when speaking English, but disappointingly for her, the American accent when speaking in English has remained.


 Brent slowly rises, assessing his levels before fully straightening. Nope he's good. Which is a relief because he really didn't drink that much and it'd be a shame to turn a lightweight now.
"Nah, I better get going actually, I have an early morning flight."

 Husband and wife walk him to the door when Carlos thinks he realises something.
Carlos's voice turns gravelly as he says, "Deardon, don't tell me you came all this way just to tell me about my brother."
Brent tugs on his coat, shrugging his shoulders, "you had to know." 

Shit, how can he hate the bastard now? That's 2 markers he owes him.
"Owe you-"
"No. You don't owe me anything. Favour for a friend," adamantly states Brent, meaning it completely.

"Brent," whispers Lola feeling herself suddenly getting emotional.
Brent feels the soft bundle of a woman slowly hugging him before shifting back to her husband's side.
"You got a good thing Carlos and no past to haunt you anymore," concludes Brent.
Carlos agrees, giving the man a chin nod that expresses his gratitude. Brent thanks Lola for the dinner and invitation before leaving.


As the front door shuts, Carlos gazes around his home. He's got his honest work, his sweet, loyal woman and a beautiful, rascal of a son who looks up to him. So Carlos agrees, he's got a good life but were it not for that haunting past, he certainly wouldn't appreciate it half as much as he truly does.

*******************************************************************************************

A/n That's it! The end!! First off here are the translations even though I hope you could have guessed from the text itself: 
Joue avec moi= play with me
êtes-vous ici pour prendre mon papa loin ? = are you here to take my dad away?

(I did get these off Google so if they are not right, someone please do chip in and correct me!) 

AHHHHHHH So much to say! Oh my gosh! Okay, forewarning, rest of this stuff is not 'important' so if you want to jump ship now, feel free and I hope you've enjoyed the story. The rest of you....well, buckle up babes (and...dudes?). 

It's been a long year (year and a half?). And thank you to everyone who stuck with me. I totally was not sure where this story was going when I started out. I simply planned a really simple short story and that finally spun into this 31 Chapter story-probably one of my longest stories to date and it's been a wild ride. I know I've had chapters where I had no clue where to go and no motivation to write it so as readers, I can imagine that you guys have had chapters where you probably wanted to give up on the story too. But you didn't and like it or not, you (like me) managed to finish it. Though I hope you did like it. 
I certainly tried something new with this and I hope you enjoyed it. 
There will be a lot of editing to be done to it and as usual I'll probably push it out as far back as I can :P 

Meanwhile, I know some of you (my avid fans) are wondering what the heck I'm going to be doing now so here's the thing, I have a few projects that I could potentially start but I'm not sure what to start on. 

1) I have one/two stand alone book ideas. One Romance but (I feel) a bit unusual and the other Romance+ a little bit of mystic/paranormal (but not werewolves or vampires). 
2) I have an idea for another series. Of course I'll start of with the first book and see if I like it enough to be a series but I am hoping to do a series. This one will be to do with cops. Adult-Romance kind of stories. Sort of Kristen Ashley inspired (because I've REALLLLY got into her works). 
With this, if it does become a series. One of the books I plan to do in it (though not the first one) would be Eliza and Brent's story. 

So guys, please tell me which you'd prefer to see me write. A stand alone or a series? 

Whichever it is, I'm going to be I'm going to be taking a break for June and starting the story in July.
This is because I have my exams coming up, ending on June 15th BUT I feel like I want a bit of a break and I really want to enjoy by 2(ish) weeks of freedom after, because starting July I'm going to be stuck in a lab for my summer internship. Anyway, enough rambling.

Again huge thanks for sticking by the story and have a great week!!! 

xx

P.S. Did you notice the Chapter title? Omg, who's Charlie Brown fan? :P