Page 58 of Ruthless Reign

Thank you for everything. I really needed a friend tonight.

Is that what she was to me?

A friend?

I wasn’t sure. Never really had one. Not one I’d have considered ‘real’ anyway.

But I didn’t think you were supposed to wonder how your ‘friend’ would sound with your cock buried nine inches deep in her sweet cunt. Or if her lips were as soft as they looked. How they might feel against yours. Against other parts of you.

I veered off the main road, taking the path Da indicated until I found them. Carefully, I powered off the burner phone with Becca’s messages on it and tucked it into the hollow compartment I’d made beneath the cup holder as I parked.

Damien was indicating my vehicle with a hard look on his face, clearly unamused at my father’s late addition to the meet, but he wasn’t who I was looking for as I stepped out.

I saw Hardin first. It was hard not to. The guy was massive and had this imposing aura that rippled off him like fucking nuclear radiation. My gaze snapped to his brother. His mother. Damien’s right hand. The one they call Pope. And two others.

No Becca.

The tight ball of dread in my stomach eased, but not fully. I knew tonight wasn’t going to go well for at least one Saint in attendance here. Whatever Da had planned, it wasn’t good.

They’d followed his instructions, though. There were only eight of them present as ordered. Though I knew Damien was smart enough to have his men as close as possible.

All Saint eyes followed my movements, and I wondered again what the fuck Da’s play was in blowing my cover.

I didn’t move to stand next to him, crossing the long expanse of red dirt to stand among his other men. I may have been blood of his blood, but here, among his ranks, there were no favorites. I was a soldier just like his other soldiers.

“Now that we’re all here,” Da said in a way that told me there would be skin tearing repercussions for my tardiness. I lifted my chin. “The payment, if you please.”

Damien handed a leather satchel to Zade, and he brought it to my a like the faithful dog he appeared to be. In truth, I didn’t know which of Damien’s men my da bought out for intel but I knew he owned at least one. He always did. And most men were easy to buy. You just needed to know where to press and where to pad.

Da tossed the bag to me and I caught it, going to the hood of the nearest car to count it.

It seemed less than I expected, but as with everything, I didn’t know the number Da had in mind when he set the twenty percent terms.

“Eighteen Five,” I told Da, and he sucked air in through his teeth, turning back to a pale faced Damien.

“It’s a little light.”

“Count it again.”

I looked to Da, who nodded.

I counted it again, wishing I’d find whatever amount of the payment Da thought was missing, but the number remained the same. “Eighteen five.”

Damien stepped forward, but his wife stopped him, hissing his name.

The Saint’s electric eyes sparked in the moonlight. “I counted it myself,” he spat. “It. Isn’t. Light. Let me count it.”

“Are you saying you don’t trust me, Mr. St. Vincent?” Da taunted, and I flipped the satchel closed, leaving it on the hood to get back into position.

As Da would say, it’s time for the show.

Damien, wise man, remained quiet at the taunt.

“You know,” Da said, lifting two fingers to his chin. “I think we can make this right without the need for any bloodshed. I’ll take your weapons to make up for the difference.”

A cold sweat spread over my back and I worked hard to keep my expression neutral.

Fuck.

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