Shit. “The, uh, the path of the righteous is full of potholes and setba—”
“Gabriel!” Paul roars. “Shut up! A little place named Lockton, South Dakota wants to burn you at the stake.” He shakes his head in disgust. “Seems you defiled a minister’s wife, you bastard.”
I frown and hold a hand up. “Okay, actually, that one’s not tr—”
“Bullshit!” he bellows. “I—”
“No, Paul, you weren’t there,” I snap. “She was mad because I didn’t defile her, so she went and told everyone I did, so that they’d run me out of town.”
Paul stares at me, and I sigh.
“It’s… it sounds more complicated than it actually was.”
He sneers. “You’re a phony.”
“Eh, it’s a thin line.”
He snorts. “I wonder if Delilah would like to know who you are?”
I’m smart enough to keep my mouth the fuck closed after that one, but Paul’s lips curl up at the corners.
“Or maybe, she already does?” He glares at me, his smile thin and cold. “She spends a lot of time with you, doesn’t she, Gabriel?”
I still say nothing, and his look hardens.
“Bible study, right, Gabriel?” he hisses. “Teaching her the scripture, are you? Or are you just putting your filthy fucking hands on my sister?”
“Calm down,” I growl. I start to move towards him, because to say Paul seems unhinged right now is a fucking understatement, and I want to get him down and before he does something insane.
He barks out a laugh. “Calm down? Calm down?” He starts to laugh before he reaches behind him and yanks his hand back out.
Ahh, fuck.
Yeah, this time he’s holding a gun.
“Paul, listen to me,” I growl. “You need to calm down before you—”
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he says coldly, cutting me off. “You’re going to help me with the rest of that money I need.”
“And how on earth would I do that. You want me to pass the offering plate for, what, the other two million you need to hit your goal on that land deal in Costa Rica?”
His eyes harden dangerously, but he smiles.
“I need you to marry me, Gabriel.”
I arch a brow. “Well you could take me someplace nice first and ask like a gentleman, Paul, I mean really.”
He stares at me. “Is everything a fucking joke to you?” he growls lowly. “I mean you need to marry me to my fiancée, Lizzie.”
I make a face and whistle lowly. “Hey, Paul? The gun you’re pointing at me aside, I need to do you a favor and save you a whole lot of shit later. You really shouldn’t marry Lizzie.”
He grins, and he starts to laugh. “Actually marry her? Jesus Christ, Gabriel, no. No fucking way. Lizzie Purcell is trash, but her family is beyond rich, and I promised to cut her on a small percent if she helps me, since she just found out she’s being written out of her dad’s will.”
I frown. “What exactly am I helping you with?”
“You’re marrying us. If we’re married before that new will goes into effect, I can basically help myself to her dad’s money in her trust fund.”
I shake my head. “Paul, you’re doing a shell game, right?”