Page 51 of Soulless Saint

“Out,” he hissed, rushing around his desk to shove me from his study and into the dining room just in time for Ma to round the corner, a hot oven dish between her mitted hands.

She set it down in the center of the long cherry table, her blue eyes flicking up to meet Dad’s with cold fire in their depths. Ma rose, putting her mitted hands on her hips as Kaleb entered behind her, juggling three other serving dishes piled high with potatoes, corn, and salad.

Ma cocked her head at Dad, a lethal warning hiding behind the tight smile she wore. “You weren’t working, were you, dear?”

“No, my love.” He cleared his throat, coming around the table to take the mitts from her hands and lay a light kiss on her right cheek. “Of course not. What can I help with?”

She lifted a brow at him before shaking her head with a deep, rumbling laugh that started in her belly, stealing the mitts back from him to swat him with them. “What is it with men? Always asking if there’s anything they can help with after the work is done. You can help your sons with clean up, Damien. Oh! And go get the scotch from the bar. You know the one.”

“Right,” Dad said, his voice tight as he left the room in search of Ma’s good scotch.

“Well, go on, sit.” Ma flicked her wrists, gesturing to the chairs at the table. I noticed there was one setting too many, and narrowed my gaze at her as I sat down like I was told.

It was hard to rectify the woman before me with the one I knew as a child. The sad housewife who ran on autopilot, barely making it through each day, with the formidable woman who took a bullet for her husband and ruled the Saints at his side for years before she decided she’d had enough of bloodshed and bullets to last a lifetime.

There was no one I respected more.

“Who’s that for?” Kaleb asked, indicating the place setting next to his own, still standing behind his chair, hands gripping the back.

“We have company tonight,” Ma announced, sliding into her seat at the head of the table, laying her napkin over her lap just as Dad came back with her scotch and a glass. He filled it with two fingers of the golden liquid and set the decanter down next to her cup, passing out a few beers to me and Hardin. We’d take our scotch after dinner. Well, Kaleb would. Leaving me to drive his inebriated ass home.

“What do you mean, company?” Kaleb asked, his jaw ticking.

“I invited the DeLuca girl. She should be here any—”

The doorbell rang and Kaleb pulled his fingers from the chairback, eyes darkening.

“I’ll get it, Kaleb,” Ma said, seemingly oblivious to Kaleb’s sudden mood shift.

“No, Ma,” Kaleb said, putting a palm on her shoulder to keep her seated before he left the dining room. “Allow me.”

He came home with that just fucked glow that told me he’d finally gotten himself laid after a near week sabbatical and he’d been chipper as all hell ever since. But now…?

I mean, Gillian DeLuca was more annoying than a gnat on a good day, but he never let her get to him before. I was missing something.

Dad took his seat across from Ma, lifting a brow in question at Kaleb’s behavior. I shrugged.

“Load me up, would you, Hardin?”

Ma passed me her plate, and I began piling it high with meatballs. I tried to pass it back, but she shook her head. “What? Am I on a diet?”

I put another two scoops onto her plate until she was satisfied. Down the hall, I could hear my brother and Gillian whispering harshly. Not loud enough to make out what they were saying, but loud enough to know it wasn’t a pleasant exchange.

“What is going on over there?” Ma asked, lifting her napkin from her lap. I put my hand atop hers on the table and shook my head.

“Leave it, Ma.”

“Is this because of her?”Gillian’s nasally voice rose above the din of Kaleb’s angry whispering. “That stupid slut!”

The crack of flesh hitting flesh rang out through the house, and I would’ve told you my brother would never hit a woman, but right now, I couldn’t be sure if Gillian hit him or if it was the other way around.

Because I knew exactly which her Gillian was referring to and hearing the fucking cunt call Becca a slut had me gripping the underside of the table to keep seated. Heat flushed through my stomach and my skin bristled with it.

Not your problem, Hardin.

“Get the fuck out, Gill,” Kaleb said, clear as crystal, the five words given creed with the sharp slam of the door behind them.

My brother stormed back into the dining room, dragging his chair noisily from the table to sit down.

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