Page 80 of Pray for the Damned

What if I can have the life I never dared hope for?

“What time do you have to be at the club tonight?” He asks, changing the subject from the life-changing, completely insane one we were just on.

“Four. I need to help Abigail with getting the bar ready for the night and doing some ordering.”

He nods. “I have some work I need to do this afternoon.”

“Some people you need to kill, you mean?” My own casual tone surprises me. I never thought I’d be okay with murder under any circumstances, but then again, I never thought I’d be in a relationship with a trained assassin.

He chuckles. “Not today. Just some general surveillance on a person of interest. Nothing for you to worry about.”

I nod before snuggling deeper into his arms, a place I don’t know how I’m ever going to convince myself to leave when it feels this fucking good.

CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

EMMETT

Sundays are usually my favorite day of the week.

It may be the busiest, but it’s also the one that reminds me why I do what I do. Seeing people have something to hold on to, their faith growing in real time, is everything to me.

The second service finished a little over an hour ago, and most people have moved on already, but there are a few still milling around.

Being a non-denominational community church means people of many faiths come here to worship throughout the week, and it’s rare to find the place empty, which is why I find it so suspicious when I’m packing up to leave for the day.

I step back into the main space and notice the people that were here just a few minutes ago are missing, apart from a single man sitting on the front pew.

I consider my options. There’s another pastor here today who could have a chat with him and make sure he’s okay, but I don’t feel right about leaving without at least checking on the man.

I pocket my phone and wallet and move up the middle aisle. Once I reach the front of the church, I turn, and my stomach bottoms out at the sight of the man in front of me.

A man I haven’t seen in almost a decade.

My father.

“I’m glad I caught you,” he says without looking away from the cross in front of him. I’m honestly surprised the place didn’t fall down when he walked through the doors.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, my voice flat and emotionless as it always is when I speak to him. I learned from a young age to never allow my dad to know I care about something, because he’s always been more than happy to tear anything I loved away from me.

“Can’t a father visit his son?”

“No,” I say flatly. There’s no point in mincing words when you’re dealing with a man like Harry Levine.

“That’s not very welcoming of you, son. Isn’t that the point of this sham of a job you’ve found yourself in?”

I sigh and brush a hand over my face. I should have just left. It would have been easier if I had just walked out the doors and been none the wiser that he was here at all. “It’s not a sham, Dad. Just because it’s not the family business doesn’t mean it’s not valid.”

“Hmm.” The noncommittal sound comes as he finally turns to me. The lines beneath his eyes are deeper than they were the last time I saw him, but his dark eyes, so alike mine and Kade’s, are still soulless and empty, and his dark hair is streaked with gray. “And how does your God feel about the fact you’re a murderer?”

Was there a part of me that had hoped I would make it the rest of my life without seeing this man again? Yes, absolutely. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t prepare myself for the possibility and shield myself from the barbs he was bound to throw my way.

“I really need to get going, so if you don’t have any real questions about your own faith, I’ll leave you to it.” I turn tohead toward the back of the church, but his words stop me in my place.

“On your way to see Waverly?”

My stomach lurches, the sound of her name on his lips has bile climbing up the back of my throat, and despite all my training, my features show my every emotion.

It’s been a long time since I’ve needed to wear a mask as bulletproof as the one I need when I’m around my father, and it’s safe to say I’m out of practice.

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