CHAPTERONE
DEREK
ARDMORE, PENNSYLVANIA
Killing my father was a reckoning seventeen years in the making. I was just a boy the day I decided he would die by my hand. And I spent the years since envisioning every twisted way in which I’d make him beg for the mercy he’d refused me as a child.
Nothing I’d do to him today would erase the past or ease my trauma. None of that shit mattered. My motive was sheer self-satisfaction. I’d take pleasure in watching him breathe his last breath, cry out to whatever God he thought would save him, and cower as he looked into my eyes, knowing I’d come like a reaper to collect what was owed.
For the past hour, I stood in his living room. Waiting. Adrenaline pulsing, the pent-up anticipation of years culminating all for this very moment. Everything was set. All he had to do was walk through the goddamn door. While James was a man of strict structure, tonight, he was late.
Drawing a deep, irritated breath, I roved over the picture frames lining the mantle of a brick fireplace. Most were of James, who smiled like a smug bastard while receiving awards and accolades. In others, he posed at banquets and charity auctions as strangers stood beside him, oblivious to the darkness he kept hidden under the façade of philanthropist and good doctor.
A gold rectangular frame caught my attention, one where he posed with a young woman, her head leaning affectionately against his chest. She was beautiful: long dark hair, olive complexion—and those damn dimples. Her piercing brown eyes bore through mine as I momentarily lost myself in their depths.
Who was she? A lover?
Unfamiliar voices poured in from behind the front door, and I quickly slid into a shadowy hallway across the foyer.
“Eva!” he said, sounding equal parts surprised and excited. “What are you doing out so late?”
James stepped through the threshold with his guest, the lock clicking behind them—an unexpected turn of events.
But I was a patient man, and sometimes collateral damage was part of the job.
“I got off early and came by to check on you. Heardyou haven’t been feeling well.”
Her voice.
It wrapped itself around me. The rasp it held was soothing and husky. And damn if it wasn’t sexy as hell.
“Don’t you believe a word Franco says. You know how he exaggerates.”
The mystery woman laughed in response, and I’d be lying if I said the sound hadn’t stirred something inside me.
As their voices carried over into an adjacent living room, I caught a fleeting glimpse of her reflection in a hallway mirror. Eva was the woman in the photo, though the picture hadn’t done her any justice. She was fucking devastating.
“Sit, Eva. Can I get you a glass of water or something to eat? Have you been taking care of yourself?”
“Hey, I’m here to check onyou, remember? And I’m good. My levels are perfect, promise.”
Levels?
I could hear the smile in her voice, and I berated myself for craving to see it.
“You should come around to visit this old man more often. I mean that.” His tone turned serious. “I miss our chats. You know you’re like the daughter I never had.”
The goddamn audacity.
A scoff escaped my throat, and I stilled my breath, muscles tensing at my slip. But James’s cheerful, grating voice echoed like a fucking bullhorn in my ears. The gun holstered inside my jacket suddenly felt hot and weighted as he unknowingly carved his name on the lead of every bullet.
“I promise to swing by more often. I’ve been meaning to, but you know work can be unpredictable.”
“I completely understand. So, when do I get to meet a potential son-in-law?”
The woman laughed outright. “Well, I’d have to find him first, then we can plan dinner and set a wedding date.”
It was the asshole’s turn to bellow a laugh.
