Page 64 of Forsaking All Others

“Wrong move,” Blackie growls from behind me. Then he presses my own gun to the back of my head. “Tell your men to stand down before I splatter your fucking brains across the walkway. Be a bitch to clean, but it’d also be my pleasure.”

Ghost spins back to me and points his gun over my head at Blackie.

“Forgot to frisk me,” he sneers.

“Lower the gun, girl scout,” Bash drawls, aiming his nine-millimeter at Ghost.

“What the fuck are you idiots doing?”

My gaze flits to Parrish who stands at the curb between Torque and Ink, his arms outstretched with a gun in each hand.

“This ain’t going to help anyone,” he says, then lowers his hands to his side. Ink and Torque keep their guns aimed at him, but he shoves both of his into the front waistband of his jeans. Turning to face them, he says, “If you’re gonna shoot then shoot.”

“Tell Gene Simmons with the hair up there to drop the gun on my president and I won’t shoot,” Torque returns.

Parrish barks out a laugh.

“Gene Simmons with the hair…oh, man, that’s good.” He turns his attention back to the showdown on the steps. “Down, Black.” He pauses. “You too, Bash.”

“What about the Girl Scout?” Bash volleys.

Meeting Parrish’s gaze, I order Ghost to lower his weapon too. Parrish starts up the walkway and the reenactment of the Wild West comes to a halt.

“Not the welcome you thought you’d receive, huh?” he says, grinning around the toothpick that hangs out the corner of his mouth as he stills on the step below me.

“Can’t say that it is,” I grind out.

“Sorry to hear about your driver.”

“Wasn’t just my driver,” I reveal. “Man shot dead was my ex-wife’s husband. But you knew that, didn’t you?”

The grin vanishes from his mouth and he flinches. After a moment, his dark eyes flit to Ghost.

“Girl Scout over here your new VP?”

“What do you know about that?”

He brings his eyes back to me and pulls the toothpick from his lips.

“Apparently, more than you.” He reaches out and cups my shoulder. “Don’t worry, though, I’ll fill you in.” He cocks his head to the side, a sinister grin filling his face. “Then I’ll help you kill him.”

* * *

Reelingfrom everything Parrish laid before me, I drop my head into my hands. It was like a fucking act out of Macbeth, a crime of treason centered around a man who I dubbed King.

“Why don’t we give you and your club a minute to digest all that Parrish has divulged.”

This came from the man at the head of the table. I peel my hands away from my face and look at Wolf. He’s calmer than Parrish, more subdued but just as wise and by the glint of mischief in his eye, I’d say just as lethal.

“I appreciate the hospitality,” I say.

He nods and pushes out of his chair.

“We’ll come back in a few minutes with a spread. You like capicola? What am I saying—everyone loves capicola. A little fresh mozzarella and some sweet sopressata.” He pinches his fingers together and brings them to his lips. “Delish.”

Lethal and addicted to nitrates.

“Don’t forget the hot honey, pop,” Nico interjects.

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