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Which was a lie, nothing more than a mask Ezekiel wore when surrounded by people. I’d gotten a glimpse of the true Ezekiel, and I knew I’d need that unholy monster on my side.
“Ah, the infamous Black Hand priest,” Damian spoke, his smirk turned toward Ezekiel, the intensity and tension of our earlier conversation gone. He got to his feet, rubbed his jaw, and walked over to where he stood at the head of the table.
Ezekiel didn’t blink, not even as Damian leaned in close and whispered, “You’re only here for her. In fact, she’s the only reason I haven’t killed you for what you did to my men in your church.” The voice he used was a far-cry from the one he’d used with me. This Damian was hard and threatening, and it was easy to see how he’d risen to the top.
The man could flip a switch. It was kind of sexy, in a weird way. Don’t ask me why.
Unfazed, Ezekiel’s blue eyes shifted to Damian. “Your men? I assume you mean those Serpents, in which case I will tell you that I only did what was necessary. They were looking for Giselle, and they flashed their irons at me. I do not take kindly to those who point guns at me, Damian.”
Damian let out an incredulous chuckle before taking a step back. “You, priest, are something else. I can see why she took a liking to you. It’s always good to have a psychopath on your side.” He threw a wink in my direction, and then headed toward the door. “I’m going out for a smoke. I’ll let you two catch up.”
Only when he was gone did Ezekiel level that emotionless stare at me again—only this time, the emotionless facade cracked, and beneath the mask I saw genuine concern. “The Black Hand met with your father and Rocco Moretti tonight. You were stolen right out of the Moretti suite.” He was unhurried in taking the chair beside mine.
“Word travels fast in Cypress,” I remarked.
“It does when you have eyes and ears everywhere… and especially so when you’re friends with the head of the Hand.”
“As you can see, the kidnapping didn’t go quite as Miguel planned.”
A quick glimmer of amusement flashed on his handsome face, the tawny skin around his mouth quirking in a slight smile. “I can see that, yes. Tell me what happened. Tell me why you called me here instead of alerting your father.”
“I’ll start by telling you that Miguel Santos is not my real father. Biologically speaking.”
“I assumed as much. You may have brown eyes, but you look nothing like Miguel.”
That caught me off-guard. Ezekiel suspected? The man really was observant. Well, there’s no way he knew the entire story, so I launched into yet another rendition of the day’s events and the revelations I’d learned.
Honestly, I was getting pretty good at telling the story. Do something so often and you were bound to become a master.
Ezekiel was quiet throughout. He said not a word as he listened to me, though he did cock his head in thought a few times. It was only when I finished completely that he said, “And you want to turn the entire thing upside-down. You want to take both Miguel and Rocco down.”
“Yes,” I admitted, not for the first time today. Ezekiel once told me all I’d have to do was ask for his help, and he’d help me. There was never a better time than the present. “I need your help.”
“You have it. Anything you need from me, Giselle, anything at all.” So eager to help me. Hopefully I didn’t make him regret it.
I said, “I need you to set up a meeting for me. I want to talk to Shay Arrowwood, and I want to talk to her alone. No boyfriends in tow. The sooner the better.” I had the feeling once the ball got rolling, it wouldn’t stop for anybody or anything. It’d be a domino effect.
“I can do that,” Ezekiel spoke with a nod. “She’s very much like you, you know. She wanted to bring the entire Black Hand down, blamed the members for her family’s death years ago. Everyone assumed she was dead for five whole years, and when she came back, she had vengeance in her heart, much like you do now.”
Shay had once made the comment to me that she wouldn’t be where she was today—on the Black Hand—if her family was still alive. It sounded as though she had no love for her family, so why did their deaths fill her with the need for revenge?
“We might be similar, but we are not the same,” I said once I’d gathered my thoughts.
“No,” Ezekiel agreed, “you are not the same. You might actually do it.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “What do you mean?”
“Shay failed in her quest for retribution. She fell in love and everything changed for her, but for you… I have the feeling, Giselle, even love won’t stop you from getting your hands bloody one last time.”
My gaze fell away from him as the weight of his words hit me, and once that weight piled on, the weight of everything else followed suit. Suddenly I felt so very exhausted, weary of it all. I could never have a break, never be done with this—not until two men and their legacies lay in ruins beneath my feet.
For the first time all day, I realized just how bone-tired I was, and I couldn’t stop myself from saying, “I’m so tired, Ezekiel.”
He got to his feet, offering me a hand. “Then let’s get you to bed, Giselle.”
I looked between his outstretched hand and his face. I… I think I was too nervous to go to bed, like I wanted to jump right into the plan, even though that’d be impossible. It was a waiting game until all the pieces were brought into the light, until I knew what other dirt Rocco and Miguel had on the Hand. And who knew how long it’d be before I met with Shay.
But the anxiousness over the future wasn’t the real reason I didn’t want to go to bed. The true reason was I was afraid of what I’d see when I was alone in the dark, when I had nothing and no one beside me, grounding me, rooting me to reality. It was easy to be angry when I had eyes on me, but when I was alone…
