Page 1 of We Are All Sinners

Prologue 1

Brixon

Iwalk into my father’s beach house carrying a box containing his urn, a peace lily, an orchid from his funeral, the largest bottle the liquor store had of his favorite Blood Oath bourbon, and an overly large and overstuffed manila envelope that was given to me by my father’s best friend, Darius, who is the Saint Diocese, also known as the King of the Saints.

My dad had been his right-hand man since childhood. Just like I have been with his son Liam, my best friend, since we were kids.

Noah is our third to complete our hierarchy. His parents both died in a car accident when he was four. Darius and his wife Penelope adopted him.

Noah’s dad was my dad’s right-hand man, just like I am Liams, and Noah is mine. The line will continue with our children someday just as it has for generations.

Letting out a sigh, I take his urn from the box first and place it on the mantle over the fireplace next to his other half.

I stand back admiring the symbol of the Saints etched into the dark shiny metal of his urn. It’s a stark contrast to the pearl white urn with a beautifully hand painted black dahlia that my father had made to hold my mothers’ ashes.

I unload the rest of the contents of the box onto the large ornate driftwood coffee table in the center of the room, tossing the empty cardboard box towards the back door.

I open the bottle of bourbon, letting the hearty rich aroma take me to the last memory I have drinking with my father, and pour a hefty three finger pour that I know would make him proud.

Holding the glass up to my father’s urn, I say the words to him that I couldn’t manage to get out at his funeral, “Rest in peace pops. I hope I can live to be half the man you are. I miss you already. I love you.” I toast the best man I’ve ever known, getting choked up before downing the entire glass.

It’s been eight years since we placed my mom’s urn on the mantle and toasted to the most incredible woman that either of us had ever known. She always saw the good in people, seeing their light when others couldn’t. It’s one of the many things that made her so special.

I had hoped pops would make it to Christmas. His heart just couldn’t take anymore.

I pick up the bottle and watch the amber liquid slosh into the crystal tumbler giving myself another long pour.

The large, overly stuffed manilla envelope sits on the table almost taunting me. I stare at the two bulging silver prongs keeping its contents hidden from my view. I can’t help but wonder what Darius meant when he handed it to me with almost imperceivable hesitancy.

Darius is one that has always kept everything close to his chest, never revealing his true intentions.

He waited until the service was over, handed me the envelope, and whispered in my ear, “These were your father’s final wishes. Think of it as your last task before taking over his endeavors completely. You do not have a time limit on this one, but you are expected to begin after your grieving period. The boys will be with you, Brixon. There are instructions for them as well. I will always be here for you if you need anything. Enzo was as much my brother as Liam and Noah are to you. He was a great man Brix, and so very proud of the man you have become. Good luck son.”

I have two weeks to grieve, no more no less, then it’s back to work as usual. The way of the Saints, just in time for Christmas and New year’s. He acted as if I hadn’t taken over all business aspects for my father over the last couple of years. I had to be the one to keep things going when he was too sick to take care of it.

He had to coach me through most of his business dealings at first, but I got the hang of everything very quickly andhired Nadia and Tasha to take care of any and all day-to-day operations. Since then, everything has been smooth sailing.

I plop down on the couch and wait, knowing Liam and Noah will be here any minute. They are probably sitting in the driveway trying to decide if they have given me enough time to grieve alone.

I hear the front door shut and watch as they both come in with their heads down, refusing to look at me.

“Guys don’t come in here all weird. Dad would have wanted us to throw a party to celebrate his life, not be all limp dicked and sad.” I try to lighten the mood.

Noah looks up with a hint of a smirk and nods, “He’s probably pissed we don’t have a couple blondes attempting to suck our souls through our dicks already.” He makes me chuckle slightly, knowing he is probably right.

Liam follows suit as they both come in, each carrying a bottle of Blood Oath Bourbon, setting them on the coffee table next to my bottle. Noah pours a glass handing it over to Liam as he gets comfortable sinking into the off-white, overstuffed, leather couch.

“Decided not to open the envelope without us?” Noah nods to the bulging envelope on the coffee table as he pours a glass for himself and gets settled.

“What did dad say this was again? I mean he is always cryptic, but there’s really no time limit. Is it even a real game?” Liam huffs.

He prefers a challenge in all things. Plus, we thought it might have been one of the games that our dads would give us to play with time limits to see if we could win.

It started off with us as kids, small stuff. Boys, you have forty-five mins to figure out where we hid your favorite toy, pet, the list went on with then saying, “this is a teamwork exercise, work with your brothers to accomplish the task.”

What we thought was just a childish scavenger hunt, was the beginning of our training to becoming the Saints we were born to be.

As we got older, and more mature, so did the games. I think we all let the games get out of hand and we have continued to have fun with them because we knew we would have to take over eventually. We wanted to stay young and carefree for as long as we could.

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