Page 50 of Soulless Saint

I didn’t want to be free.

I needed to be free.

“Dad?” I called, pushing through the door to his study where I found him on the phone, talking in hushed whispers to someone on the other line as he poured over documents scattered over the surface of his desk.

He held up a finger, telling me to hold on as his face began to redden, his knuckles turning white as he collapsed the phone to his ear. “Fucking put me through, Teresa. I need to speak with him. It’s urgent.”

Dad stood, swiping a palm down his face, listening to something Teresa was saying on the other end of the call.

I leaned against the wall, crossing my arms to wait, trying to hear what she was saying on the other end of the call. Teresa was Senator Murphy’s assistant and he’d been in our pocket ever since Dad started bank rolling his campaigns more than eight years ago.

“Bullshit!” Dad shouted down the line, pounding the side of a clenched fist down on his desk, making several pens roll to the floor. “Teresa, you listen good, if he…”

Dad trailed off, pulling the phone from his ear to stare at the screen incredulously. “The bitch hung up on me,” he sneered, chucking his phone across his office before falling down into his chair, putting his face in his hands.

“Ma’ll have your balls if she finds you in here.” I sniffed, shaking my head at the ridiculousness of it. Here we were practically at war but if Dad went against his words to reserve Friday evenings for ‘family time’ Ma would literally have his balls. Or his head. Depending on her mood.

“Yeah, well we have bigger fucking problems, Son.”

“We’ve lost Senator Murphy?”

He lifted his head, rubbing at the scruff along his jaw with a solemn nod. “Looks that way. Costa isn’t taking my calls, either.”

My stomach soured.

“The mayor, too? Jesus fucking Christ. It’s them, isn’t it? The Sons. It has to be.”

Dad lifted his slate gray gaze to the ceiling, thinking. “It can’t be. There’s no way some foreign fucks can just walk in here and undo years’ worth of loyal partnerships.”

“But they did,” I argued. “The Warden admitted as much.”

“But the Senator? Mayor Costa?” He shook his head again. “I don’t buy it. I need to speak to them myself. In person. They won’t take my calls, but I’d like to see them try to stop me from kicking down their pristine office doors.”

I lifted a brow. “Let me know if you want company for that. Any leads on where they’re holding up?”

Pushing off the wall, I went to his desk, bracing my knuckles on the edge as I stared down at all the maps and documents spread out over the worn wood.

“We think it’s possible they’re in Pasadena. I have the guys on it but every other potential location has turned out to be a bust.”

“What about our inventory situation?”

We’d taken all the guns and ammo The Warden and his men brought with them to the meet, but it was nowhere near enough to replenish the stock that was confiscated from us in the raid.

“Working on it. Might have another supplier. A Mexican cartel Diesel worked with when they were dealing with the Aces up north.”

“And the other gangs?”

His jaw clenched at the mention of them.

My Dad had no less than five lower level gangs operating in this territory and all of them operated only with his express permission. They all paid tribute to him. And in a couple weeks, it would be time to collect their monthly dues.

“They’ve been useless,” he replied eventually. “Not a single one has any intel that’s proved useful.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

His stony gaze met mine. “So do I.”

“Dinner!” Ma called from somewhere near the dining room and Dad shot to his feet.

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