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We put our clothes back to rights just as the car pulled into the estate. My father allowed us both to live on the premises given how close we partnered together for jobs. He wanted us to have access to one another in case we had to rush to a job.
I led us inside, then turned us towards our rooms that were right next to one another upstairs. We both went into mine, then our mouths immediately met. It was like we couldn't stand being apart, even for just the short walk from the car to my room.
Our need for each other only got worse with time. I wondered when we'd reach the point where we'd have to tell my father. I had a feeling it was coming quickly.
"Clive really thought he was going to walk out of there," Lloyd mused later that afternoon while we read over reports from the companies my father had assigned us to watch over. "He was such an idiot."
I laughed as I reviewed a profit-and-loss statement from the liquor store on East Ave. "He was. He was praying to you as if you'd save him. Like he really thought all that pleading would help."
"They all do that. It's ridiculous." He shook his head in disgust.
That was when it hit me. An idea that just somehow made sense. "We should start calling you Preacher," I told him.
"What? Why? I'm not some ordained priest or anything."
With a wicked smile, I looked him in the eyes as I replied, "You may not be ordained, but they pray to you just the same. Besides, think of the fear it will invoke when that spreads around. We have a man in our ranks named Preacher who you have to give your last plea of life too. It's perfect and so much more badass than Lloyd."
"You don't like the name Lloyd?" he asked, his voice almost hollow.
"That's not what I said. Besides, I have a much different name I prefer to call you. This will just be for everyone else. You'll always be my Lloyd, even when you are Preacher."
"And you'll always be my Dante."
CHAPTER FOUR
PREACHER
Twenty-three years old
I staredat the man before me. Where there was once a connection, a bond that felt like family, now there was nothing. No hint of understanding in his emotions.
"Explain this to me again. You're not making any sense."
Luca shook his head. "I'm making perfect sense, Preacher. It's just not what you want to hear. I hate being the messenger. I don't know why Mr. Romano fucking put me in this gig."
"Which Mr. Romano?" I asked him. He needed to clarify if this came directly from Dante or if his asshole of a father had something to do with this.
"Does it really matter? They're the same."
I snarled at Luca. Quicker than he could react, I had him by the front of his shirt as I yanked him forward. His gaze turned furious, though he didn't dare try to fight me. Whether it was because he knew he couldn't beat me or because he worried how Dante would take it, I didn't know.
"They are not the same and of course it fucking matters, Luca," I spat out. "If this came from the boss, then he's just pulling more shit to test us. But if it came from Dante..."
I couldn't imagine it was from him. It would be too much if the man I loved truly asked for this.
Luca reached up slowly to grab my hand holding his shirt. He pried my fingers free, then took a large step back.
We were out at the processing plant, the place where dirty money went to mix with the clean shit. Mr. Romano was a paranoid fucker, so he didn't trust many people to do it. Luca and I were on that list. Or at least I was up until I showed up to work tonight and was told some bullshit about needing to leave.
"I'll run it by you one last time, then you need to go, Preacher. I don't know what the fuck all is going on right now, and I'd hate for you to catch a bullet to the brain because you're too fucking stubborn to listen," Luca grumbled.
"Fine. Last time. Run me through the whole thing."
"I went in today to take the totals for last week to Mr. Romano. He was in his office smoking a cigar like usual. He barely looked up, but then before I could leave, he called me back. He told me to tell you to take off — permanently. He said you were no longer family, and your time was done."
"And what did he say about Dante?" I'd heard him say it twice already, but it didn't feel real. I needed to hear it again to be sure I wasn't merely dreaming. To know that this wasn't a nightmare.
Luca's gaze shifted off to the side where the city loomed in the distance. We were tucked away between the city and the small towns that surrounded it. Hell, the place might as well be a compound for how tightly it was secured.
