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Slowly turning in his arms, I laid my cheek on his damp chest and shut my eyes. When I finally looked up at him, I placed a soft kiss on his lips.
Being in his arms brought back the things in my head I’d temporarily pushed aside. I needed to process all it meant and ask a question I already knew the answer to, because it made too much sense. First thing first, though; I needed to get out of damn Jericho.
“You ready to burn a church down?”
His soft laugh was the only response I needed.
We watched the church burn together. Jonah and the delegates burned with it.
His broken body was secured by the padlocks on the front door. The roof groaned and shifted as parts of the old building caved in. Flames reached into the darkened sky as our sign of victory. We had no lead on the other bishop or David, but this was still a pretty big deal.
“Romero, who is your real father?”
I kept my eyes trained straight ahead. I didn’t think he was going to answer me.
“David made me, but that pathetic piece of shit will never be my father. Or yours.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw Grimm shift beside him, uncomfortably.
That had me turning my head to meet his stare. “Brock is.”
What?
“Brock is what?”
“Your father,” he said calmly.
“The cannibal? Grimm’s––that would make––”
“I’m your half-brother,” Grimm cut in.
What the entire fuck?
This wasn’t what I was expecting. I was expecting Romero to admit David was his father; the evidence of that was astounding. David hugged him, and David had only ever hugged his sons. He didn
’t let any man that close to him without making a power play. That’s why the hug had always bothered me so much.
He came from The Order. He and Grimm weren’t blood brothers, and Brock clearly was Grimm’s father, making the signs point back to David.
One of the most obvious red flags was the fact that he was able to leave the Order at all, and only David would have allowed that. If it were anyone else ,they’d be dead, but Romero was his son, and David’s sons were like gold to him.
He and Brock weren’t close. Jonah told him his father was proud of him—referring to David—and that’s what really honed it in for me.
Romero owned the Badlands. He was strong and lethal. He was everything David would be pissing himself in joy over, because he was his son.
My brain was ready to implode. Romero did a lot of morally questionable things, but I knew he’d never touch me if I was his sister. I didn’t ever consider the possibility of my real father being a goddamn cannibal. Or that the man I thought was my father might have no relation to me at all, depending on who my mother was.
“This is…this is…”
“It’s a lot to take in, I know. Why don’t you and Arlen ride with Grimm? We need to go, and I know you want space.”
Glancing up at him, I wasn’t sure what to say.
We all began branching off, leaving the burning church behind us.
Romero remained silent as he walked me to the passenger seat of the second jeep.
“I love you. Just thought you should know,” I said softly. I didn’t need a special moment or shining stars, and I was likely to kick his ass if he tried to give me a candlelit dinner, so what better time than the here and now?
