Page 138 of Quinlan

He jerks his head toward the inside of his room, to where Quinlan won’t hear us if she wakes up. He closes the door behind us, leveling me with his dark gaze.

“Langford Marketing.” His father’s national marketing company. Rome examines the fresh wounds on his right-hand knuckles. Looks up at me. “It’s going down in three days.”

“Before the financial reports are released.” I cock my eyebrow, wondering why this is news. “Everything’s going according to plan. Right?”

“It is. Harmony will get on the flight to Paris tomorrow morning. Everything’s set in her safe home there,” Rome continues, referring to the head of accounting at Langford Marketing. Our snitch. “With the new passport, new identity. It’s taken care of.”

Again, more of what we’ve already discussed this week. I try to ignore the nagging concern about the dark look in his eyes. Instead, I treat it like any other strategy meeting we’ve had before.

“Jagger delivered her new papers last week, for her and her family.” This, too, is a repeat of our plans. I do it anyway. For some reason, he needs this. I’ll never turn my back on him. “Laurel is ready for her new employee. Everything’s taken care of.”

“Right.” Rome nods. Runs his hand across his scruff. Over his buzz cut. “So, in three days, Joseph Langford’s reputation will be smeared across the news. The tax evasions. Fake invoices. The falsified reports. He’ll be humiliated by the time we get to their home.”

Harmony took some coaxing, but eventually she delivered the papers to incriminate Rome’s father. The priceless information we’re absolutelyneverhanding over to the police.

Joseph Langford has connections in high places. They’ve gotten him out of a lot of shit, including the starvation ofhis children. Rome and Anne hadn’t shown up to any galas or charity events over the years. No one questioned why they weren’t there. Their doctors never voiced any concerns about their weight or their developmental delays.

There’ll be no ignoring or burying this article that’ll be broadcasted on national television.

The entire country will witness it. Then we’ll strike.

“Mack said he’s right on schedule.” Rome’s scowl deepens as he talks about the reporter. “The expose is set to be released—”

“In three days. Yes.” Okay, now I’m officially concerned. “Want to tell me what’s going on? You got so high on Quinlan’s pussy that you’re worried you’re forgetting the plan?”

Fuck my mouth. Fuck me for not knowing another way to handle this.

“Jesus, no.” He’s serious. Something’s gotten to him while I was in Quinlan’s room.

So am I. “Then?”

“After that.” After his parents are publicly humiliated. Denounced. Cut out from society in a matter of seconds.

They deserve that. It won’t make up for years of Joseph starving him and Anne. Won’t change the fact that Elaine chose to look away while her children cried or were locked up in their rooms. When, on occasion, they were forced to throw up their food.

Even killing them won’t suffice. It’s all we have.

“After thatwhat, Rome?” This isn’t like him. Stalling. “If you’re trying to freak me out, it’s working.”

“Before that, even. Before I kill them. Fuck.” His eyes slam shut, and he shakes his head. When he looks at me, he’s tormented. Not scared. Not Rome. But it’s cutting close. “Quinlan. How am I going to tell her that I have my own revenge plan? That in three days, I’ll be a murderer?”

“You…” I study my friend’s face. I see my fear reflecting in them. “You hate the thought she’ll find out about the pain. About how deep it went.”

“I hate the idea of pity.” He lets out a low breath. “I thought about it, you know. Lie to her. Say I’m going to murder them because I’m in the fucking mood to carve a man’s heart out. That I’ve been curious about how it’d feel to have my hand squeezing around Elaine’s intestines.”

“It’s as valid a fantasy as any.” At that, Rome frowns. I shrug. Smile. “What?”

“She won’t like it. A person like Quinlan—someone who’s dedicated her life to her parents—would hate it.”

“And?” SinceIdon’t want to tell her, I start considering the same idea. My smile widens. “It’s not like she’s leaving here, so why the fuck—”

“Damien, enough.” His hand slices the air. “For one fucking second.”

“Fine.” For a few seconds, I consider a solution for his problem. Ah, there it is. “Bring your sister over for emotional support.” Quinlan won’t be able to pity him when Anne’s here, smiling and giggling. A proof that the two Langford siblings have more than survived their parents. They thrived. Maybe I’ll use the opportunity to tell her my story too. Who knows. “When you tell Quinlan about your parents, have Anne here.”

“That’s a cowardly move.”

“She’ll be here anyway, and—”

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