He shakes in my grip. “Girls. Money and girls.”
I scoff. “Well, it’s lucky I have a plan to bring the Preacher to you,” I whisper.
He shakes his head. “N-no. Please don’t bring them here.”
I glance back at Frankie and his guys and nod. They pull the trigger, but the silencers do their jobs as his bodyguards drop to the floor.
“The term don’t shoot the messenger doesn’t apply here,” I tell Michael, and raise the gun to his jaw, pull the trigger and let his body drop to the floor.
Conan goes to speak, and I hold up my hand. Enzo hacked the security feeds; we’re in as ghosts, using silencers.
I still don’t trust anyone. I let a couple of minutes pass in silence, listening. Waiting for my gut to tell me it’s okay.
And then I blow out a breath. “All done. Stay in positions until we’re out of the building.” I say into my earpiece.
Placing my handgun down on the bar, I pull out the letter and look at the three bodies on the floor. And then up at the beams above the bar area. “Feels quite poetic, leaving the bodies hanging up for the Preacher, doesn’t it? I can pin the letter to Michael's face with a screw,” I say to the men.
Conan chuckles. “I’d love to see how vivid your dreams are.”
“I don’t dream, luckily.”
“I think that will leave the message perfectly, Drago,” Frankie tells me, clapping his hand on my shoulder.
I look at the blood on my hands and back at Frankie. “I need a favor…”
He chuckles. “Go ahead. I cleared my schedule today for this.”
“I just need to clean up and get my tux on at yours. And then possibly use your jet, I need Lev to get on our jet with Declan and the rest of the men.”
Grayson starts hunting through the bar for anything we can string the men up with. Finn and Conan join him.
“Found a screw,” Finn announces.
I can’t concentrate as Conan takes it off him and presses it against one of the dead guy's foreheads with a frown. I pinch the bridge of my nose.
“Conan, let the professionals deal with that,” I tell him.
Frankie clears his throat behind me, and I turn my attention back to him. “Yes. No issues with that. I’ll be coming to Pennsylvania for the peace talk, so I may have to repay the favor then,” He tells me.
“No problem.”
“Well, we best start getting creative. I’ll have to take a picture; Zara will find this amusing.”
I laugh.
I can’t imagine Lily would have the same response. And I don’t want her to. I want her as far away from this bloodshed as I can possibly get her.
I’m nearing forty. I have no intentions of this being how I live the rest of my life. I don’t want to be a boss. I don’t want my kids getting involved in this shit. I want them to have the life I never did.
One full of love. Not death.
The theatre is dead.
Exactly how I wanted it.
Rows upon rows of empty seats stretch out in front of the stage, silent witnesses to what might be the most important moment of my life. No whispers. No eyes. No judgment.
Just us. A way for her to enjoy the ballet once again without fear.
