Prologue
THE AIR WAS heavy, thick with the humidity New Orleans was famous for, as the aluminum airboat navigated its way through the shallow waters of Louisiana’s bayous.
The man steering the flatbed vessel through the swampy marshlands was familiar with this route. He’d been out there many times in the past delivering on an order he’d been given by the one currently waiting for them at their final destination.
With more muscles than brains, the enforcer at the helm wasn’t the kind to question an order, instead using his tremendous brawn to overpower those around him and bring them to his boss—and today, that unlucky person was Paul Stevens. The man who was knocked out cold under a camouflage tarp at the back of the boat.
Paul was an elementary school teacher who had a soft spot when it came to the kids but showed bad judgment in every other aspect of his life. Paul had also adopted a rather ugly cocaine habit, one that had him making regrettable decisions, such as taking things that didn’t belong to him and selling them for profit. Things that had, in fact, belonged to the man waiting on his arrival.
It was unfortunate, really, because that bad judgment had finally caught up with Paul and had earned him a sit-down parent/teacher talk with the father of the boy who was also seated in the airboat.
The smart, intuitive little boy with the shock of red hair and slate-grey eyes who had no idea his teacher was aboard and was the one who had set up this very meeting.
Today, Paul was going to give one final lesson to his star pupil. What happened when you tried to steal from Jimmy Donovan.
It was a lesson that Joel Alexander Donovan would never, ever forget.
Chapter One
CONFESSION
My name is not Joel Priestley.
My name is Joel Alexander Donovan.
And a long time ago, I was taught that things
aren’t always what they appear to be—and neither are people.
JOEL PRIESTLEY, A.K.A Priest, sat behind the wheel of his Aston Martin with his hands at the ten and two positions and his seatbelt fastened. He’d been sitting like that for the past thirty minutes or so. Ever since he’d pulled the vehicle into its designated parking spot alongside his and Julien’s—his husband’s—black Range Rover.
Sinatra had been keeping him company, as Priest tried to block out the phone call he’d made back in his office to Henri. But no matter how loud he played the charismatic crooner, nothing seemed to lessen the impact of Henri’s words and the way they had made Priest’s stomach coil.
“Nice to know you can at least follow an order if it’s to keep those you love safe… Be careful; keep an eye out…”
And that was what he’d been doing for the past thirty minutes or so. Sitting in his car, with his eyes trained on the rearview and side mirrors, as his paranoia over what used to only exist in the shadows began to slowly creep back out into the light of day.
Priest gritted his teeth and reminded himself that Jimmy wasn’t out of prison just yet and likely wouldn’t be for some time. He wasn’t about to appear out of thin air to exact absolution for what he believed was Priest’s biggest crime—abandonment. But that didn’t mean Jimmy hadn’t reached out to the others to find him. To track down the son who had turned his back on his family if, and when, he walked free.
Priest cursed and slammed the heel of his palm against the steering wheel, then he reached for the seatbelt’s release, and as it retracted across his chest, he reached up and shoved it off his shoulder where it caught. As it snapped into place, Priest pulled the handle of the door and got out of the car. He needed to get upstairs. To get inside a locked lobby, where a security guard walked the halls, and his condo had a deadbolt on the front door. It was one of the main reasons he’d been interested in Logan’s place to begin with. The additional barriers between him and those he loved—and anyone who may want to hurt them.
Julien had already texted to let Priest know he and Robbie arrived home safely. But as of yet, Priest hadn’t heard anything from Robbie, their boyfriend. Not that he’d expected to. The last image Priest had of their princess was an ashen face and betrayal in those usually bright blue eyes, and Christ, Priest wished he could erase that picture from his mind.
The three of them had been making such headway lately. They had moved past the getting-to-know-you, comfortable stage of their relationship, and had been this close to slipping into that space where the heart and soul of the one whose body you were worshiping was coveted.
But that had all changed now. The truth about his father having wiped out any trust he may have built with Robbie, judging by the expression on his face before Priest had left the brewhouse.