Page 33 of Magnetic God

“Because we need her money. I get it.”

Blanc’s gaze narrows. “It’s not just because of her money. She was married to Smith, who, until he betrayed us, was a valuable member of the Brotherhood.”

I have thoughts on that, but keep them to myself. Smith was such a fucking bad seed that someone poisoned him. I mean, he was going to die when Ace invoked Rule 47, but someone beat Ace to the punch. Likely the same person who killed DeLeon. In general, not a great time to be an Elite Member. But here I am. And I’m already on the shit list with Blanc and Zhang because of what happened at my induction ceremony. I bite back a laugh. Drinking an entire bottle of whisky before the ceremony probably wasn’t the best idea, but it made it bearable.

Ace is the only person who understands what I’m going through, but he’s out of the country with his wife, Isa, and they won’t be back for at least a month. A fucking month. As happy as I am for them, I wish he was here.

I say to Blanc, “Well, as fun as this has been, I have shit to do.”

“Just remember. Your goal is to keep that woman happy.” He stands. “And get a haircut. It’s bad enough you have so many fucking tattoos as it is.”

My jaw tics. “Noted.”

I watch as he leaves and then run my hand over my face. Fuck. I need a drink.

My head buzzes so hard that it takes me a moment to realize my phone is ringing.

“Hello?” My voice slurs and I don’t even give a shit.

“Open your front door before I kick it in.”

“Ace?”

“No, it’s Santa. Yes, it’s fucking me. Open the door. It’s colder than shit out here.”

The call ends. I force myself to a sitting position, groaning. The room spins and it takes a moment before everything rights itself. Fucking hell.

I definitely drank too much last night.

And the night before.

And the night before…

Stumbling, I make my way to the front door. I fumble with the lock and deadbolt before finally opening the fucking door. Ace stands there, glaring at me. The sun is shining, making me wince in pain. But he’s right. It’s colder than shit out here. I move aside so he can pass and close the door behind him.

In the living room, he sits on the couch, watching me.

“What?”

“Do you really have to ask what?”

“Yeah, I guess I do.”

Ace’s jaw tics. “Tell me, Brooks, have you checked your fucking phone?”

I reach for it, unlocking the screen. Holy. Shit. There are over three hundred missed calls. Even more texts.

“Damn. Did someone die?”

“No, you dumbass. We’ve been trying to get ahold of you. Your fiancée is worried sick. Blanc and Zhang won’t stop riding my dick, seeing if I know anything. And now my sweet wife has insisted that we cut our fucking honeymoon short so we can check on you.”

“Isa’s here?”

Surely, he didn’t leave her outside.

“She’s at home, resting. I wasn’t sure what I was going to walk into here, and I didn’t want to send her into premature labor.”

“Jesus. That’s a bit dramatic.”

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