Page 12 of Julien (Confessions 2)

Julien let go of the door, and as it swung shut behind them, he smacked Robbie on the ass. “J’ai hâte.”

And all Julien heard as he walked off was Robbie calling out, “Wait…what does that mean?”

IN THE OFFICES of Mitchell & Madison, Priest walked inside his office and headed toward his desk, where he put his briefcase down and took a seat.

He shut his eyes for a moment and let Henri’s phone call from last night replay in his mind for the millionth time. It had been a long while since he’d heard from that elusive fucker, and honestly, Priest hadn’t ever expected to again. Not with the way they had left things.

Henri was one of those people he’d labeled as the past, and he’d put him in the same place he kept the rest of his baggage—far, far away from the world he now inhabited.

Priest rubbed a hand along the scruff covering his chin and eyed the phone on his desk that was mocking him. Just pick it up and call, the voice in his head told him. You’re not going to find out anything avoiding it. The problem was that Priest wasn’t sure he wanted to know more. What Henri had said last night had already caused a major shift in his universe. It had knocked the wind right out of his sails, and Priest wasn’t sure he could sustain another blow without some real damage appearing.

He shut his eyes, trying to calm the chaos that was swirling in his mind. But images, flashes, and distorted memories of a life no one should have to live flickered across his eyelids as they invaded his consciousness. Fuck.

He brought the heels of his palms up to his eyes and pressed them there, trying to rid himself of what he was seeing, but it was no use. For years he’d been trying to free himself of his past. Had been trying to outrun his family and all those connected to them. He’d done everything in his power to leave behind a legacy of pain, suffering, and blood he was somehow connected to, and replace it with something good, something…righteous. But it appeared that no matter how far he ran, no matter how well he hid, in the end, family would always catch up to you, whether you wanted them to or not.

Priest sat up in his chair and reached for the phone, and then he pulled out his cell and found the number Henri had called him from. He dialed, and as he sat back, he told himself this was just a phone call. But when the line connected and Henri said, “I wasn’t sure I’d hear back from you,” Priest recognized his lie for what it was.

“You almost didn’t. But after that message you left, it’s not like I had much choice, did I?”

“We all have a choice,” Henri said, and Priest steeled himself against the barrage of emotions that came along with the familiar voice. “I’d think you of all people would know that…Priest.”

Priest tried to bite back the urge he had to slam the phone down in its cradle. Fuck, Henri. He didn’t need this shit. He didn’t have to explain his decisions to anyone but those they concerned, and they sure as fuck didn’t involve the man at the other end of the phone anymore.

He and Henri had parted ways over a decade ago when it had become clear that their relationship would never be more than a toxic wasteland. One he visited when he was angry, depressed, or one step from homicidal. This wasn’t a hey, how you doing call, to catch up with a past fling. He was calling for one reason and one reason only. “Is it true?”

“About Big Jimmy?”

“No, about fucking Santa Claus,” Priest said. “Of course about Jimmy.”

“It’s true,” Henri said. “The feds are keeping it on the down-low for now, since news like this wouldn’t end so well for ol’ Jim, would it? Considering there’d only be one way he’d ever get a chance of freedom. But our firm was contacted the second the talk of a deal was put on the table.”

Priest scoffed. “As if he isn’t enough of a fucking disappointment as a human. Why not add turning rat to his list?” There was silence at the other end of the phone, and then Priest said, “What makes you think I won’t tell anyone?”

It was a legitimate question. The quickest way to be rid of the monster who had once terrorized him would be to go to the press, leak this news, and let someone who liked Jimmy even less than Priest finish him off.

“Because I know you, even though you like to pretend that I don’t. You picked your new name for a reason,” Henri said. “And no matter who fathered you, you are nothing like him, Joel. If you go to the news, you know he’ll wind up dead.”

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