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Thesunhangslow above the horizon, the last of its rays stretching over the Pacific and basking St Pius Church with an angelic aura.
It’s an ironic sight, because this joint has seen sins better suited to the fiery pits of hell.
I park and bite back a smirk at the sight of both Angelo’s Bugatti and Gabe’s Harley already lining the side of the road. They’re both earlier than me. I suppose there’s a first for everything.
I turn up my collar and step out onto frosted gravel. The air crackles with festive anticipation, icy wind, and earthy bonfires as I cut through the graveyard toward the church. I told myself I wasn’t going to stop, but my self-control isn’t what it used to be, and I slow in front of our parents’ joint headstone.
In loving memory of Deacon Alonso Visconti and his devoted wife, Maria.
A bitter laugh leaves my lips in a puff of condensation. Nine years ago I stood in this exact same spot and believed true love had died with my parents. Only a few months later when I started Sinners Anonymous and Angelo called the hotline with a confession of his own did I find out it had never existed in the first place.
Our father had been fucking someone else all along, then had our mama killed to get her out of the picture. Listening to Angelo’s voicemail fill my penthouse suite was the first time I was certain I’d made the right decision by choosing the King of Diamonds instead of the King of Hearts.
Tightening my cufflinks, I spit on the grave and continue into the church.
Mama’s buried at the bottom of Angelo’s garden, anyway.
Strolling through these rotted oak doors always feels like stepping back in time. Childhood memories chase me down the aisle. At the top of it, Gabe sits on the front pew, and Angelo stands in front of the altar. He looks up from his cell and pins me with a bored expression. “You’re never late.”
Ah, so he’s still pissed about the Kelly thing.
“I was washing my hair,” I drawl back, voice as dry as a bone.
Not entirely a lie. I’m sure my hair got plenty washed as I stayed in the shower for longer than usual to fuck my fist. The memory of Penelope’s breathless moans against my mouth and her warm, wet pussy around my fingers had been taunting me all day. If I didn’t give into the release, I’d have lost my mind.
In an attempt to avoid getting a boner in church—I’m sure there’s a tenth circle of hell for that—I dive straight into business.
“Gentleman, before we start, I have a favor to ask you both. Whatever Sinner we choose tonight, I want them to myself.”
Gabe remains expressionless as always. “I get Martin O’Hare, then.”
“You don’t get anything, brother.”
I’m met with stony stares and simmering silence.
“Christ,” Angelo grunts, raking a hand through his hair. “You’re letting your golden retriever loose on Martin, instead of Gabe?”
He means Griff, but I don’t rise to the insult. “No, I’ll handle Martin myself.”
More silence. I let out a sigh. “It’s been a chaotic month, all right? Just need some release.”
I’m sure my brothers think I want Martin dead so he doesn’t get the chance to avenge his brother, which is obviously in part true. But if that was all, I’d have my men take care of him. Truth is, I’m still bitter about what Penelope had said to me in the Preserve while my hand was wrapped around her throat.
He did the same thing to me as you’re doing now.
Her words snuffed out my anger like a hard blow to a candle.
In the spirit of not being able to think straight, the thought of another man putting his hands on her, warranted or not, sent a violent impulsion through me. Now, I have four men taking shifts outside her apartment while I find the time to get to Martin and do away with him like I did his brother.
“That’s a lot of deaths in one month, pretty boy,” Gabe murmurs, staring at the wrought-iron grates underneath his boots. His eyes slide up to mine, quiet amusement dancing in them. “You planning on getting those hands dirty?”
I hold my hands out in front of him, turning them from front to back and back again. Then I look down at his busted knuckles. “When I turn into an animal, I’ll let you know. Maybe you’ll find room for me in your cage.”
Angelo lets out a wry breath of amusement. “The day Rafe throws a punch will be the day a baby looks at you and doesn’t cry, Gabe.” He flicks an impatient glance to his watch and picks up his iPad from the pew. “Let’s get this done and over with—got shit to do.”
“Rory got you decorating the tree tonight, or something?”
Angelo’s eyes me with annoyance. “Tree’s been up for weeks. She wants to go to the adoption shelter, just to say hello to the strays.”
