Page 5 of Pray for the Damned

“I do,” I say softly. “Mostly under-the-counter stuff.” I cringe at the admission, but Wyatt barely blinks.

“More common than you’d think,” he tells me. “We’ve been struggling to keep staff in the club bars recently. I’m not sure if Leighton mentioned it, but with the position, you automatically receive a membership to the Scarlet Lounge, which means if you meet someone, they may not like the idea of their partner being ogled by the patrons.” He rolls his eyes.

“You think you’d like it if our wife started working behind the bar in there?” another man asks, and I take a step back instinctually. Their wife?

My brows tug together at the thought as I take in the other man. His dark eyes are intense, but there’s a gentle smirk tugging at his lips as he looks at Wyatt, who looks horrified at the thought.

“Absolutely not,” he snaps.

“Exactly.” He chuckles before turning his attention back to me. “I’m Elias, I’m the other owner of the Scarlet Lounge.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” I force a smile to my lips, but it’s unsteady.

“Leighton isn’t here tonight, but she told us to say hi.” Elias flicks his eyes over his shoulder. “Should we start the tour?”

I open my mouth to tell him I think this is a mistake, but then they both turn away from me, and I have no choice but to follow them.

This is definitely a mistake.

CHAPTER TWO

EMMETT

The familiar red and black decor settles something deep inside me.

The Scarlet Lounge has become a sanctuary of sorts over the last few years since I moved to New York, even if it’s hardly a suitable place for someone like me to be a member.

But everyone needs their release, and this is mine. Don’t get me wrong, I tried other things before I settled on a sex club, but none of it felt right. None of it settled the part of me that has never been able to rest.

Except her, of course, but there’s only so much she can do for me when I’ve never been able to approach her. Not since that night.

She doesn’t know I’ve been right by her side all these years.

She doesn’t know I left my own family, my legacy, to follow her, to keep her safe.

And she likely never will.

She deserves better than the likes of me, even if I have spent the last decade running from the sins of my past. I’ve done as close to a one-eighty as can be, but it’s not enough. It’ll never be enough.

I serve God and my community, I teach His word to those who need guidance, even if I have no right. Not when I’ll never be able to repent for the life I lived before this one.

I didn’t really choose this path, it chose me.

And yes, I realize how completely cliché that sounds.

How does an ex-hitman become a priest?

Pure circumstance.

I’m distracted from my thoughts when I catch the owners crossing the main floor with someone between them, but they’re blocked from my view by Elias’s huge frame. His military training is almost too obvious as he surveys his club while holding conversation with his business partner and whoever is walking between them.

I bring my glass to my lips, reveling in the burn as whiskey slips down my throat. Most men of God don’t drink. But they also don’t frequent a sex club and spend an unseemly amount of time watching from the shadows.

It’s only when Elias pauses to talk to one of the waitresses that I notice who he was blocking from my sight, and my stomach bottoms out.

No.

She can’t be here.

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