Page 33 of Sweet SIN Slaughterhouse

Papa stays by my side, and I look up at him to ask, “Are you sad?”

His head shakes. “No. I’m not sure what I am yet. But it’s not sadness.”

Good, I’m glad, because it would break my heart knowing this was harder on him than anticipated. Placing his hand on my shoulder, I say “Shall we?”

“I suppose so.”

“Thank you for tonight. For my childhood, for all our special moments. You helped shape me into the person I am today, and for that, I am forever grateful to you, Papa.” I barely get the words out without a lump of emotion erupting from within.

Squeezing my shoulder, his voice is hushed, his words are little, but they stretch miles in meaning. “Always, Sid. Always.”

“She was Dalton’s daughter. Abi,” I finally muster up the courage to tell him. Plus, it’s too late for him to change his mind about Diablo.

But he doesn’t get mad, his demeanor remains unchanged. “I’m proud of you.”

Then we are interrupted. “Let’s go old man,” Rylee teases, making me smile.

Papa whispers, “That’s my cue,” and takes off toward his queen.

Rising, I walk with the group, my pigs following alongside me as I bask in this space, this moment in time one last time, before shouting behind me, “Greta, you're coming with me. Sorry, guys. She’s all mine for the rest of the night.” Jack and Sally snort in agreement. I need her smart-ass mouth to help balance this heavy, therapeutic emotional night. I can hear her walker click behind me and I smile as she follows.

We get into the Bentley, and after loading up the babies and Greta’s walker, I look up to the sky. You can start to see bright oranges and pinks appearing from behind the snow capped mountains. Forest climbs halfway up them and surrounds this beautiful open space. Then, in absolute disbelief, it occurs to me that it must be morning.

Turning the car on, the clock reveals it’s five thirty. Fuck me.

“I’m fucking tired. Get moving. I don’t care if you are the fucking Diablo or that hot pirate from those Caribbean movies. Get moving so I can go to bed.”

I burst out laughing at her completely random comparison. “You got it, G.”

Once she’s done coughing up a lung, she retorts, “Don’t fucking call me that. Now drive, girl.”

Reversing out, an unknown number calls my phone. I am hesitant to answer, but do so anyway on my Bluetooth. “Yes?”

“The church! Fuck, Sid.” I don’t recognize the voice on the other end but it's frantic, and as I am about to question them, loud sirens echo through my speakers. With a racing heart, realization overwhelms me.

Shit.

Straight away, I try to gather the million moving parts and one psychopath so I can strategically analyze my next moves, and fast. Dust clouds around us, and as it clears, I can see my dad’s Range Rover peeling out of here.

He knows.

Who fucking called him? I bet it was that priest. Guy is terrified of my dad.

Hanging up immediately on the unknown caller, I dial Uncle Thomas while Greta sits quietly listening.

“Sid. The church. It’s bad.”

I don’t let him finish. “Find him! Find my brother. Please. Keep him safe and bring him to me. Alive. Before my dad can get to him.”

Uncle Thomas sighs. “Understood.”

I understand the position this puts him in, but it’s what’s right. It’s what I have instructed. Pulling rank the first ten minutes of being Diablo wasn’t something I wasplanning, but I have to. He’s my brother, and I must keep him safe. Worry runs my brain rampant.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I silently speak to myself.Please, Uncle Thomas, to get to him. Please, before my dad does.

Greta speaks up. My eyes open at her ominous tone, bringing reality back to the forefront. “Honey, your daddy is ten steps ahead. Your brother is as good as dead.”

BLAISE

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