Page 57 of To Catch A Rook

I didn’t think about her most days. I didn’t want or need the reminder that I’d been robbed of such a formidable woman; that my childhood could have been filled with such light and life, instead of the warped, twisted path my father had led me down.

A strong bicep wrapped around my shoulder, and Lauchlan pulled me tight to the crook of his chest. I huddled within the heat of his body, locking down my emotions before they could reveal any more truths. Who knew a hot-air balloon ride would unlock the vault ofthosememories?

Leaning into Lucky’s refuge was not a wise choice, but I didn’t care. Vulnerability for vulnerability. Truth for a truth. And I was a liar if I said it wasn’t working.

My breathing leveled out—cool pulls of untainted air calmed my nervous system, while the warm pulse of his heart against my cheek did the same. The sun dropped completely below the skyline and the chalky blue of twilight blanketed us as we drifted down to our landing point.

We walked off the platform without a word to each other, greeting the driver who would take us back to our cars, six miles away.

Before I could climb in the passenger seat, Lucky breached my trance.

“I can’t believe you call him ‘Daddy.’ That’s weird shyte out of a woman’s mouth, unless he’s fuckin’ ya while you’re doin’ it.”

The moment abruptly broken, I couldn’t have been more grateful for the reminder.

A game. This was all a game.

I wouldn’t forget it again.

Considering I had only visited Sheldonville twice in the past year, twice in the last few weeks was considerable overkill.

Antonio’s word was still the law we followed. I had messaged my sociopathic brothers with the directive, and we were meeting at Bourbon & Blues to talk strategy.

I already knew their strategy. Mical would want to kill first, talk later. Jonah was more calculating, but he wouldn’t care if we got the information we needed, just that we maximized the enemy's suffering in every way possible.

Antonio’s little sycophants.

Of all the killers in our family, I had the lowest body count, despite the underground initiation I had undergone at fifteen, and the rigorous training regime at the Bureau.

Blood and guts didn’t turn my stomach or pain my heart, but it did nothing to satisfy my inner demons. Only the complete control of a willing body could offer me that.

I lumbered up the small staircase into the large, paneled office, ready to get this conversation over with. My next task wouldn’t be any easier.

Mical’s frenzied energy took up an entire half of the room; his broad form bounced on the balls of his feet as he tossed a red stress ball in the air. His shark-like teeth gleamed at me when I walked through the door. He looked to be salivating at the thought of a turf war.

Jonah lazily smoked a joint on the other side of the office, languidly sprawled in a leather wingback. His glazed eyes stared through me when I nodded to him in greeting, as if the entire possibility of bloodshed bored him.

A third figure, a woman, took up the entire middle seat of the matching leather couch. Dressed head to toe in form-fitting black, her feet were firmly planted, as if ready for battle at any moment. I scrutinized her familiar silhouette with a bark to my brothers.

Carmen Williams;The Devil. She had lost none of her beauty since the last time I’d seen her, which was at least three years ago. Wavy, jet-black hair fell down her back, matching the bitter chocolate color of her eyes. She fit the runway model profile of Colombian heritage, with wider hips and thick legs – legs used to take down the harshest of men.

“I wasn’t aware you had company.”

The woman cracked a dangerous smile, full of dark promise and pain.

“Hello, Kellan.” The woman’s voice was completely void of the Spanish accent that I knew her to have. “It’s lovely to see you too.”

She had been attractive to me once. I had a relentless affinity for small blondes with big mouths these days. Carmen shifted her weight on the couch and slid to the other end. I sat down on the opposite side, assessing her.

“Where have you been hiding?”

Her smile melted into a condescending smirk. “On a job. I don’t just work for these boneheads.”

I frowned at her casual dismissal of my brothers. Apparently, a lot had changed between them in the years I had been out of their loop.

“You mean our father. These boneheads”—I nodded to the two men now watching our exchange with interest—“are soldiers, not commanders.”

Mical’s sneer could have seared through the skin of a lesser man. “I do not need to command armies to prove I have a big cock, brother.”

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