Page 110 of Royal Flush

Except for one. Maybe two.

Hunting.

Extermination.

“Come on. You need something to drink,” Valerio suggested.

“I picked up something on my way back,” Gage said quietly so as not to draw unwanted attention. But he pulled out a bottle of whiskey from his jacket pocket.

I was in the worst mood of my life, capable of committing murder, but I truly appreciated both men being here.

“Come on. Let’s find someplace to relax. There’s a nice patio no one seems to know about,” Gage continued.

I nodded. “First things first. I want every step of Santini’s itinerary determined, the number of soldiers he brought with him noted, and for fuck’s sake, search for that goddamn damaged vehicle.”

“Don’t underestimate me, brother.” Gage was grinning. “I’m not as innocent as I look. Everything is already in motion and I assure you that everything about that fucker’s life will be dissected.”

“Good.” Then I’d hunt, capture, and kill.

I’d been right all along.

I was a very bad man.

CHAPTER 29

Braxton

Religion.

I respected those who needed something to believe in. I understood hoping for a miracle. Hell, I was already doing so, which would make my mother happy. She’d tried to instill the belief in a greater good, but when you’re taught to be ruthless from early on, the concept is required to take a back seat.

More than two hours had passed. Almost three.

No one had said a word, which pissed me off as much as the fact some asshole had tried to end Jasmine’s life. Had they no reverence? Did they not know she was with child?

Maybe she was showing. Maybe not. I certainly wasn’t some kind of expert.

But I knew what I felt.

Anger.

Horror.

Love.

How fucking bizarre it had taken this to feel anything like Valerio and my parents had.

I’d stood outside in the gorgeous weather on a patio filled with colorful chairs, umbrellas, and even a grill, but I’d remained in a horrible vacuum.

It wasn’t every day you found out you were going to be a father.

Correction, that there was a possibility, however remote at this point. I wasn’t entirely certain how I felt about it nor was I expecting to be given an opportunity. I’d shoved away anything serious for long enough, if there was a higher being, he wouldn’t believe me when I said I wanted a family more than anything now.

Who would?

I’d found the chapel on my own, heading into the small room with sincere hesitation. It wasn’t as if I was a serial killer. I didn’t think my body would be set in flames by just walking in, but since I’d held no reverence for the concept, I felt I didn’t deserve to be there. My mother would call me silly, telling me that it was never too late to pray, but I wasn’t so certain about anything at this point.

It took all I had to head to the front, staring at the simple altar. My mother had been born a Methodist so the churches she’d described had been simplistic in design but this was bare bones basic. They had to cater to every denomination possible to try to provide comfort. I got it.

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