Page 115 of Tempting God

“You know we had nothing to do with their deaths, right? And we sure as hell had nothing to do with Zhang’s attempt at a coup,” Brooks says.

Jim Jones flinches at the mention of his former lover, but quickly masks the look on his face.

Charles says, “I know that. But I also know that I’m outnumbered now. Hell, Rule 84 is proof of that.”

I say, “You have daughters, Blanc. You should be glad Rule 84 was changed.”

“I am!” He snaps. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I no longer have control over the Defiant God Brotherhood!”

Jones steps forward. “Maybe that’s not a bad thing.”

“What?”

“We both know that the Brotherhood won’t survive at this rate. Maybe the deaths of DeLeon, Smith, and Zhang were a blessing.”

“A blessing,” Charles echoes. “How can you say that?”

“I can say that because I watched someone I care about destroy his own life trying to take you down. I say that because I don’t want to go down the same path. I say that because I’ve made mistakes, Charles. Big mistakes. And I’m fucking tired of living with regret.”

Brooks meets my gaze, and I know my friend is thinking the same thing. What has Jim Jones done?

Charles finally says, “You're right. Again, I’m sorry for supporting Ryans. I’ll let the Brotherhood know that he has been taken care of. I’ll also let them know that I didn’t do it alone. If anyone thinks I should be punished for not completing my task, then I will accept said punishment.”

“That sounds like a good start,” I say. “Now, I’d like to get home to my wife.”

Charles says, “She’s at my house. I didn’t want to leave her there alone.”

I nod. “Let’s go.”

Because I need to see for myself that my wife is okay.

We leave the mansion, knowing the clean-up crew is already on their way. In the morning, Ryans’ death will be announced and that will be that.

Charles is silent as we drive. I imagine he has a lot on his mind, but I hope he’s truly wanting to move forward with changing the Brotherhood for the better.

At Charles’ house, we go inside to find our wives sitting on the couch. The bruise on Greer’s cheek has me moving.

“Baby, are you okay?”

“Grant!” Her beautiful green eyes fill with tears. “You’re safe!”

“I’m safe. And Ryans won’t ever hurt you again.”

She meets my gaze. “I hope it was slow and painful.”

“It was.”

“Good.”

I lean in, brushing my lips against hers. “We should get home.”

“Oh?”

“Tomorrow the world is going to know Ryans took his own life. We’ll issue a statement, offering our condolences. After that, we finish the race to the White House.”

She takes my hand. “To the White House.”

Fuck. How did I get so lucky?

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