Broken Saint by E.M. Gayle

Chapter 23

Rock

Ipressed a slab of frozen meat to my swollen jaw as I tried to figure out what the hell to do next. Returning to my apartment after being kicked out of hers had left me angry, frustrated, and more than a little confused.

Although I could tell you for certain that no way in hell did the near future, or any future for that matter, include Nova marrying that fucker. I'd kill him myself first.

If that meant I had to lose her forever, it would be worth it. It hurt like fucking hell to say that, but what I wanted wasn't nearly as important as her safety. She deserved a long and happy life, with a family that loved her and that wasn't going to happen in her current circumstances. Anthony Cullotta deserved to be behind bars for the rest of his life, and Ronin Kavanaugh wasn't good enough for prison.

Then there were the diamonds...

What the fuck was I supposed to do with them? How could I explain that Nova had had them, when I didn't have the first clue how the hell that had happened? I needed answers and I needed them now.

I fished out my phone from my back pocket. I was about to call in every favor and marker I'd collected over the years, and then some. Fuck those diamonds. I'd been so hyper focused on finding them, I'd let the world fall apart around me and screwed up with a woman who was a lot more than a fucking case. Now that I finally had them in my possession, I no longer cared. I still couldn't believe she'd stolen them out from under my nose. A sick sort of pride twisted in my chest. I guess if I had to lose to anyone, it should be her. That, I could at least live with. She was smarter than anyone seemed to give her credit for, including me.

I still didn't trust Ronin would keep her safe, though. His reputation for playing games with his prey was legendary. And if all of this was some sort of twisted game for him did not bode well for anyone, least of all her. Bystander or not, she would get burned and I refused to allow that.

In fact, every possible scenario that I ran through did not give me the outcome I wanted.

For now, I had to hold onto these gems a bit longer. Gathering them up, I slid them back into the bag, refusing to linger on the fact they were worth millions of dollars and more than one player in town wanted them. I needed a plausible story of where they'd come from before I turned them over to my boss for processing. Just as I'd pressed the call button on my first contact a loud knock sounded at my door.

Fuck.

I quickly pressed the end button on my call, grabbed my gun from the counter and proceeded to the door. I wasn't expecting anyone and there were less people than I had fingers on one hand who knew this place existed. And if any of them were here, then the world was about to come to an end.

As I approached the door, I brought up the app on my phone that was connected to the cameras in my hallway. The giant of a man standing in my hallway filled my small screen, but he knew what he was doing and had hidden his face from my cameras. But I didn't need to see his mug to figure out his identity, so that wasn't what he was hiding. The giant skull patch on the back of his leather cut gave him away. As did the one on the front that identified him directly.

The unease from before amplified. He had no business here.

I popped the locks, one by one, and jerked the door open. Seeing the man at my threshold for the first time in years wasn't anything like I'd expected. For a second, time fell away, and the past came rushing forward. Bad memories of blood and death filled my mind.

Then he lifted his head to greet me. He might have attempted to smile, but I couldn't tell between the swollen skin, cuts, and blood dripping from everywhere. He was damned near unrecognizable.

"Jesus Christ!" His face was a fucked-up mess. "Dad?"

"Hey son. Sorry to barge in on you like this." His words were slightly slurred from his injuries, but the anger in them made them clear. "But I am supposed to deliver a message to you. Although those fuckers can burn in hell before I do a damned thing they want. I'm here to deliver my own message. I don't know what the fuck you've gotten yourself into with the Cullotta family, and that stupid fucker Anthony in particular, who mistakenly thinks he's some sort of king, but we're here to help you finish it."

He could have saved his breath. Seeing my father, the President of the Sins of Wrath motorcycle club beat to bloody hell and on my doorstep this far from home, with several of his men now flanking him, meant only one thing.

Anthony Cullotta had started a war.

Andsigned his own death warrant.

* * *

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