Page 14 of Sunrise Malice

Which is rare these days. After Cormac died and smeared our family’s reputation into the mud, Dad’s been on the warpath. Anything I do wrong, he jumps down my throat, and if he’s in a rotten mood, he’s not shy about punching me in the ribs or knocking me down and kicking me in the thighs. Afterwards, he usually hides himself in his room almost like he’s aware that he’s a monster and can’t face his victim, and I don’t feel sorry for the old, worthless shit.

Before Cormac died, things weren’t so bad. Dad was a controlling prick, but he rarely hit me. Cormac was an up-and-coming member of the Group with a thousand different plans, and Dad thought my brother was going to make sure we were all set for life. All his hopes were pinned on Cormac, and now he’s faced with a miserable existence for the remainder of his days, treated like a social pariah and forgotten about anything that he used to care about.

All thanks to Cormac.

I thought Dad would understand that it was Cormac’s fault. All of that shit was my dumb older brother’s obsessive need to be the best at everything. But instead, it’s like Dad blames me instead, as if I had anything to do with it.

I don’t know why I pull up Julien’s number. Maybe I’m in a worse mood than I realized; maybe I’m even more sad and pathetic than I thought.

Brianne: You need to come up with a new nickname for me before I’ll marry you.

I don’t know why I send it. It’s not even flirty, just a blatant cry for attention, and I hate myself the second I hit the little blue arrow. I shove my phone away in disgust and start to head upstairs to fold Dad’s clothes before doing all the dishes when my phone buzzes.

It’s Julien. To my utter astonishment, he replied right away.

Julien: And yet pussycat describes you perfectly.

Brianne: Yeah? And why’s that? Don’t be gross.

Julien: You are so soft and cuddly.

I smile at the phone, shaking my head.

Brianne: You’re a sarcastic asshole.

Julien: But you think it’s funny, mon minou.

Brianne: If I marry you, you’re going to have to learn how to be a little bit nicer to me.

Julien: When you marry me, I will be merciless and controlling, and I think you’ll enjoy it.

Arrogant bastard. It’s nice that he’s so willing to remind me why I dislike him so much. I put my phone in my back pocket and go upstairs, hurry through the living room where Dad’s staring at the TV and pouring beer down his throat. Upstairs, I fold and put his stuff away, before retreating to the kitchen.

“Get me another,” Dad grunts at me as I pass.

More than happy. After eight, he’s practically catatonic. The sooner he gets there, the better.

Before I can start on the dishes, I find one more text from Julien.

Julien: But don’t worry, mon minou, I haven’t forgotten about your list. In fact, I think about it almost every night.

I hate that it makes me smile, and to save even the smallest shred of my remaining dignity, I refrain from typing back.

Even though I really want to tell him that I’d rather go through the list with a rabid chimpanzee than with him.

Because as I plunge my hands into cold, soapy water and start to scrub a pan, I’m extremely aware that Julien is my ticket out of this hell, and I’d better not screw it up too badly before I’m gone.

Chapter 6

Julien

The fireplace in my office crackles and the warmth of the whiskey spreads into my toes. I look at my phone, wondering if Brianne’s going to text again, but force myself to put it back into my pocket.

I don’t know what made her text to begin with, but I’m glad she did. I needed the distraction.

“Merde, Julien, your books are absolute shit.” Grandpère’s hunched over my desk skimming through my accounting ledger. Those books include all of my organization’s income, including the illegitimate sales and expenses. Most criminals don’t keep books—but most criminals aren’t running multi-million-dollar operations and can afford to forget a few dollars here or there.

Grandpère has had nothing good to say for the past two hours.

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