Page 23 of Pray for the Damned

Movement catches my attention a moment before Elias slips into the dark corner beside me, making me huff out a sigh. He’s a nosy motherfucker, but he’s always kept his word to keep my membership on the down-low. It’s not really that I don’t want Emmett knowing that I come here to watch him, but I really don’t want our father catching wind of it.

“He’s taken quite a liking to her,” he comments, and I glare over at him at his too-obvious fishing. You’d think after all those years in the SEALs and working with the Syndicate of the Legion ever since would make him more inconspicuous.

“He has,” I agree.

“And so have you.”

I sigh and turn to face him, dragging my attention from the dark-haired beauty that’s now enraptured in conversation with Emmett. “Can I do something for you, Elias?”

“Actually yes. I was curious about your services.”

“Need someone killed?” I raise a brow.

He chuckles and shakes his head. “No, if that were the case, I’d be more than happy to do it myself. But I want to ensure that your residence in the city is not going to cause any problems for the Syndicate or the five families.”

I nod my understanding. I probably should have seen this coming given I’ve been operating in the shadows for over a year, but I’m still hesitant to give him any information. As it is, I try to keep the hits in the city itself to a minimum so as not to step on the toes of the five families, but I know better than to deny what my father wants. Unlike my brother, I don’t have a death wish. “What would you like to know?”

“How do your clients hire you?”

“Through my father.”

“And where is he based?”

“Right now, he’s in Atlanta, but he moves around. He has a selection of clients that we do hits for more than others, and it’s difficult to get a hold of him if you’re a new client. He’s made it that way over the years to weed out those who want a hit done for a petty reason they’ll likely regret.” I’m being much more upfront than I would normally be, but perhaps that’s because I understand the man standing before me controls my access to Waverly. If he revokes my membership, I won’t be able to keep an eye on her here, and I can’t stand the idea of not being able to see her whenever I want.

“Are any of the five families a current client?”

I shake my head. “No. All the work I’ve done in the city has been private, and I ensure it is not linked to the organized crime network before I carry out the hit. The last thing I or my father want is a war with the leaders of this city.”

Elias watches me for a moment, perhaps deciding if all the information I’ve given him is truthful, but ultimately he nods. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” I tear my eyes off him and move them back to where my brother has made Waverly laugh about something. Even from clear across the club, I can hear the beautiful sound, the one that makes me believe that not all things in this world are dark and evil.

“Does she know there’s two of you?”

I don’t bother turning back to him as I shake my head.

He chuckles. “Well, this should be interesting to watch.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

WAVERLY

My third cocktail sits in front of me, and at this point I’m more than happy to admit I’m tipsy. Between my flushed cheeks and my almost constant giggles, I’m more relaxed than I’ve been in a decade, and I’ve spent the last twenty minutes listening to Emmett tell me stories about the weird things he’s seen at the church.

So far I’ve learned that he’s not a traditional priest. He hasn’t taken vows or any of that, but he does give sermons and takes confessions from those who need to get things off their chest. He also has a kind heart as well as a dark side. He hasn’t said as much, obviously, but after so many years on the run, it’s one of the things I’ve become good at identifying. It’s a weird combination, but it kind of suits him.

He nurses his glass of whiskey between his hands as his amused eyes remain locked on me. I don’t think I’ve ever allowed myself to have a man appraise me the way I’ve let Emmett tonight, but I also don’t think I’ve ever had three drinks in an hour and a half either, so it’s a night full of firsts.

“Are you excited to start working here?” he asks.

I nod. “I’m really excited,” I admit. “The people here are so much nicer than I thought when Leighton was telling me aboutthe job. I thought that a bunch of people at an exclusive adult club would be snobby and rude, but my experience so far has been the opposite.”

“I thought the same,” he tells me. “I thought that everyone here would be rich and awful, but Elias and Wyatt have fostered a community here that rivals any I’ve ever been a part of.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to admit that I’ve never really been a part of a community before. Growing up, I kept to myself, not wanting anyone to see how bad my home life was because Dad made me fear going into the system, and then ever since I’ve been on the run, I’ve been too busy looking over my shoulder to allow myself the opportunity. But I keep my mouth shut, instead taking a moment to look around.

It’s starting to clear out a bit, which gives me a clear view of the stage on the other side of the room. A woman kneels on a soft-looking cushion, her eyes focused on the floor in front of her as a dark-haired man approaches. His tattooed chest is on display, but his black jeans are still buttoned in place as he drops into a crouch in front of her.

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