Page 94 of Love Bleeds Red
“Language,” he snaps. “You will speak to me like the proper gentleman that you were raised to be.”
“Fuck you.”
“I see we’re not going to come to an agreement. It’s a shame, really. I had grand plans for you. We all did.”
“We?” I ask, though I already know exactly who he’s talking about.
“Don’t play dumb, son. I’ve been made aware of your meddling. You had such potential, Leon. Your technical skills, your intelligence... you could have been invaluable to our operations. And with Bailey by your side, properly trained and obedient, you would have had everything a man could want.”
Bile rises to my throat.
“I’m not your son and I never have been. Don’t come near her, you understand me? You and your twisted organization are over.”
“Make your threats,” he says, his pleasure practically seeping though the speaker. “I can handle them. But you’re wrong about one thing: you are my son. My blood runs through your veins, whether you like it or not.”
“No… blood doesn’t matter. It never mattered.”
“Last chance to change your mind. I have resources you can’t even imagine. Connections that reach into every level of government, law enforcement, the judiciary, not just here but worldwide. Who do you think they’ll believe—a respected diplomat or a bitter son with no connections? Bring her back to me, let me finish what I’ve started, join my side, become the man you were born to be.”
“I’d rather die.”
The line goes quiet for a moment, then his voice returns with that same deadly calm I’ve seen him use before.
“You’ve made your choice, Leon. And I’ve made mine. Sleep well, son. You’ll need your rest for what’s coming.”
The call ends, leaving me standing in the shadow of his estate with nothing but a dial tone and a promise of war.
“Fuck!” I yell into the night. That bastard. That fucking—I pace back and forth, clenching my fists until half moon divots pierce my skin. He loved every second of that phone call and I let him have the last word.
All at once, clarity hits me. I need to leave him a message. He can’t touch me. Can’t hurt Bailey or anyone I love.
Before I second guess myself, I pull out my burner and within five minutes, I have the security system to his trophy home dismantled. I reach into my bag and calmly pull out my accelerant and matches.
If he wants to threaten me, I’ll burn everything he owns to the fucking ground.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
BAILEY
Two questions appearat the forefront of my mind as soon as I open my eyes. Where am I? And what is that smell?
I roll over and sit up, blinking as my eyes adjust to the light filtering through the cracks in the drapes. Leon’s there—fast asleep in the wooden rocking chair in the corner of the room, his head lolled to one side, legs splayed wide. He’s still wearing his leather riding jacket, jeans, and boots. When did he come in here?
I climb out of bed, stepping as lightly as possible on the hardwood floor. The closer I get, the stronger that smell becomes—like a campfire, or burned rubber. He lets out a soft snore and I can’t help but crack a small smile. There are dark smudges on his jeans, and is that dirt streaked across his cheek?
I lean in to get a closer look, and his hand shoots out, gently catching my wrist. I jump back, gasping.
“Bailey?” His voice is rough with sleep as his eyes blink open to focus on me. “Are you okay?”
“Shit, Leon. You scared me.”
He sits up and pulls a hand down his face. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to.”
With my hand clutching my chest, I let my breathing slow. “It’s fine. What are you doing sleeping in that chair? And why do you smell like a barbeque?”
His posture goes rigid like I just doused him with ice water. “Fuck.”
“What’s wrong?”
