Page 73 of The Preachers' Promise
I voice my other fear, reassured by his understanding. “I’m also scared about how my dad will react to us asking to return to Verona Falls.”
He twitches his finger against mine. “We’ll deal with it, whatever comes our way. We have more than most people because we’ve got each other. You’re my family now.”
You’re my family now. His words hit me deep, and I sit with them for a moment, taking them in. “You’ll take over one day, though, won’t you? As the head ofyourfamily?”
He huffs out a long breath. “I don’t think so. No.”
“What will you do?” I turn my head to look at him, and find myself admiring his profile, with his strong jawline, angular cheekbones, and straight nose. His face has a rugged sharpness to it. I don’t think he has any idea how gorgeous he is.
“Who knows, but I don’t want them in my life anymore. I did have plans to exact my revenge on them, to tear away everythingthat’s important, but now I’m unsure. It doesn’t seem to matter anymore. I’ve found something more important.”
“What?” I whisper, anticipating his answer, my breath locked in my throat.
He turns his head, and his stormy green gaze, like the ocean in winter, locks with mine. “You.”
Holy crap. “Me?” I squeak.
“Getting my revenge will put a target on my back and on the back of anyone I love. That didn’t matter before. It does now.”
“How will you live?” I ask. “I’ve thought about what I will do if my father cuts me off, and I’d be lost. I’d have nothing.”
“I’d flip burgers or wait tables if it came down to it, but I have money. We all do. You don’t get to be the first son in families like ours and not have some money. I also … I, um, well, I play the stock markets. I’ve amassed a decent return.”
It’s not something I would have expected from Roman. Cain, sure, maybe Malachi as well, but Roman seems so esoteric.
It’s great they have other avenues to support themselves, but it brings my own situation into stark clarity. How come they all have money, and I have nothing? I think that in some ways our families in this world aren’t so very different from the commune. The men rule things, and the women are passed around from fathers to husbands, and God forbid if you don’t get a good husband. That applies as much to life within organized crime communities as it does to the women in the cult.
My father may have his faults, but he genuinely loves my mother. I expect in a lot of crime families the same isn’t true.
“What time do we leave?” I ask.
“We ought to try to be on the road within a couple of hours.”
I nod and turn on my side, cuddling into him, as I close my eyes and let myself drift.
The time to face the music will come soon enough; might as well enjoy this moment of peace while I can.
35
CAIN
The drive to Ophelia’s parents’house seems interminable. The silence in the car is heavy, and I think we’re all worried about how we’ll be received. We have to face up to what’s happened, but it’s fucking stressful not knowing how Ophelia’s father is going to react.
We discussed whether to take any weapons with us from the safehouse but decided against it. Turning up to Ophelia’s parents’ house armed felt like we’d be waving a red cape to a bull. We need to show we’re on their side. We are not the enemy. We also don’t want to risk a shootout with Ophelia caught in the middle.
I’m glad to be driving, instead of sitting on my ass and worrying the entire way. I’m still worrying, but the driving is distracting me.
My dad giving us men to help guard the tower has cleared a huge obstacle in our path to returning home. It means we can keep Ophelia safe, and with the added security of the college, I can’t see how her father can object. On numerous occasions now, he’s failed his daughter, in my opinion. Sending her to that fucking hellhole where Roman found her within seconds of being raped was a terrible dereliction of duty.
We finally arrive in the familiar neighborhood. We park, and I warily eye the greeting committee at her parents’ gate. Five armed men are waiting for us.
“Time to face the music.” I twist in the driver’s seat to take in the guys behind me, and Mal rolls his eyes.
“Let’s hope they aren’t about to shoot us in the face,” he says.
Ophelia gasps, and I throw Mal a warning glance. She doesn’t always have the same sense of sarcastic humor as he does and can be more literal in how she interprets things. Probably due to the many years she spent isolated from the world in the cult.
“Sorry, baby.” He grabs her hand and squeezes it. “I was only kidding.”
