Page 202 of SINS & Riley
For her, I’ll take the hit. I’ll always take the hit.
And for the first time, I’m not the lone bull in a china shop.
I’ve got my brothers at my back.
A united D’Angelo front.
We take our seats at the ancient wood table. Two men wait.
The one I really came for doesn’t bother to look at me at first. He’s too busy picking blood out of his nails with a knife.
Seamus Keenan. The King. Head of the family.
And father of Declan.
Beside him, his brother, Colm. A fucking psychopath who clawed his way up the ranks one body at a time. A butcher since the age of fourteen.
Seamus finally lifts his gaze, and takes a good long look. “You’re Dante.” No handshake. Just a glare. “We heard you were dead.”
“As you can see,” I say flatly, “rumors of my death have been highly exaggerated.”
Colm snorts. “I didn’t hear you were dead. I heard you lost your fucking mind and decided to be a professional wrestler.”
Enzo’s mouth twitches, but at least Smoke doesn’t blink.
“MMA,” I correct, sticking with the cover story my brothers so diligently built. They spun it for Trinity, but you know what they say—happy accidents.
I lace my fingers together on the table. “Let me cut to the chase. I need you to stop following my fiancée.”
Enzo’s brow arches so high I catch it from the corner of my eye.
So what if Pom isn’t technically my fiancée yet? She will be soon enough, fucker.
He coughs through a chuckle.
I kick him under the table. Hard.
“How’s our uncle?” I ask, casually. Their allegiance is tight as ever, and the only way I’m getting to my uncle now is through them.
“Concerned, Dante?” Colm laughs.
“I know you’re nursing him back to health. I’m guessing somewhere exotic.”
“You’ll never know,” Seamus says before his voice drops ten degrees. “There’s a rumor she’s carrying Zver’s child. And fiancée or not, I have a claim. Blood for blood. You know the code.”
I lock eyes with the man who buried his son and give him the respect of truth, not weakness. “I heard about Declan. And I am sorry for your loss. But Zver’s dead. My own brother killed him right before your eyes.”
“And paid you for the privilege,” Enzo points out. “Quite a lot, actually.”
Seamus takes in a long breath. Still unconvinced. “We may have killed Zver, but he killed my son. He takes mine. I take his.” Seamus slams the blade into the scarred wood, steel vibrating. “Even if I have to carve it out of his whore.”
Every instinct in me snaps. Whatever patience I walked in with burns out at the thought of his knife anywhere near Pom.
I yanked the knife from the wood and inspect the blade. “Your intel’s wrong. The child isn’t Zver’s. It’s mine.”
Colm chuckles. “And we’re meant to take your word for it?—”
“No.” I slide a blue folder across the table. “You’ll take her doctor’s.”
