Page 79 of Golden Atonement

Groaning, I rolled onto my back while Massacre plopped his ass down on the floor beside me.

“You know, I was thinking. After everything that’s happened, you got off lucky.”

Slowly turning my head to the annoying fucker, I frowned.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Well, think about it. You lied, got caught with your pants down, literally around your ankles, damn near had your head blown off, got drugged and held hostage for months, all while everyone thought you were dead. That’s a lot of shit for Remi to reconcile with.”

I sneered, “It was more than that and you fucking know it.”

“Yep. Sure do, which is why I think you’re gonna need to grovel, beg, plead, and maybe pay penance for the rest of your life if you want your woman back.”

“Well, thank you, Captain Obvious,” I snarked, slowly getting to my feet. “Tell me something I don’t already fucking know.”

“Just keeping it real, brother.” Massacre smiled up at me.

“Go away, Mass,” I groaned. “Go bug your brother.”

I hobbled toward my new office, my limp pronounced, and forcefully slammed the door, signaling my desire to be left in solitude. With utmost care, I slowly eased myself into the chair, wincing at the sharp twinge of pain. Placing the bag of ice gently on my crotch, I leaned my head back, savoring the relief it brought while I closed my eyes.

I knew when she returned, she would bring with her a storm of challenges.

Nothing regarding her was ever easy.

The problem was, Massacre was wrong. Not about the timeline of events, because that shit did happen. He was wrong about the penance part. My woman wasn’t mad at me because of what had occurred. She was mad at me because I fucking lied to her once again.

That was what she was having a tough time with.

After the Golden Wedding, she forgave me, then made me promise to never do it again. At the time, I agreed and gave her my word, because I stupidly thought those two fucknuts would finish the job. But like everything in my life before, I left nothing to chance. So, when I realized they had dropped the ball, I had no choice. It was either break my promise to my wife and finish the job, or trust that eventually one of those assholes would finally keep their word.

Yeah, when it came to my wife, I didn’t trust jack shit.

Never would.

There was absolutely no fucking chance in hell I would ever trust anyone with her life, her safety, her happiness.

Now that she was home, I had time.

Time to figure out how to dig myself out of this mess.

It wasn’t going to be easy. I fucking knew that.

It was like that saying,‘fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me,’and I fucking knew my woman was kicking herself big time.

That was on me.

I did that.

That was what I was going to have to atone for because my woman was no fool.

I was the stupid motherfucking fool.

God, she was so beautiful.

I stood there, observing her tranquil sleep. It seemed like the weight of the world had no hold on her. I couldn’t help but notice how petite she appeared in our spacious king-size bed, her creamy skin creating a striking juxtaposition against the dark, silky sheets. Her blonde hair, still unruly, fanned over the pillow. I spent minutes marveling at how her long black eyelashes gracefully brushed her cheeks, but it was her enticing rosebud lips that truly captivated me.

Slightly parted, they were plump and luscious, utterly kissable.

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