CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
ROMAN
Iwore the stench of his death like new cologne. Blood covered my palms, staining my hands like a well-worn glove, but it didn’t stop there.
No.
Every inch of me was saturated,dripping,in the crimson liquid that poured from the wound in his head.
I was forever tinted with it, and there wasn’t enough holy water in the world to make me clean again.
My hands were scarred with murder… yet my baby bird ran right into them, kissing their edges as though he worshiped all they were capable of.
One thousand men couldn’t have prevented those hands from protecting their lifeline.
God, or Zeus himself, wouldn’t have been strong enough.
Those hands were revenge.
Karma.
A thin sheet concealed Arthur’s broken corpse, the threadbare corners billowing in the wind. I thought it rather serendipitous that his blood now covered Foster’s, oozing down the cement in thin, red lines.
Boots clapped against the perimeter, dropping evidence markers and unrolling caution tape. Flashes of red and blue left shadows across the crime scene, and I watched the familiar buzz of federal agents and medical examiners complete their obligatory rounds.
A curious, impatient crowd stood behind a barrier the local police had put up, struggling for a proper view. Reporters were salivating, positioning their microphones at the mouths of anyone willing to speak, to share what they’d seen.
Except… nobody saw a damn thing.
They’d only heard the heavy, ominous crack his scalp made when it split wide open.
Sebastian’s nose was nuzzled in the tender space of my neck, a mylar blanket draped over his shoulders. His steady, quiet breaths moved across my collarbone in a way that lit my skin on fire. Tears stained his pale, chapped cheeks, even after I’d licked them all away. His knuckles were white, colorless as he secured them to the front of my shirt, fastening himself to me as though he worried they’d drag me away.
“Roman Hayes.”
The voice was a simple echo, a familiar memory I hadn’t heard in nearly five years. The smile that whispered it was still the same, as were the shadowed eyes carrying mischief and loyalty.
Brotherhoodwas tattooed in bold script, just above his collarbone. His teeth caught the ring that was fixed in his bottom lip, and he laughed.
“Holy shit, Rome. What kind of clusterfuck did you drag me into?”
I smiled.
The shadow Damian carried was gargantuan, his broad shoulders flexing as he ran a hand over his head. The bullet-proof vest he wore displayed three letters across the front.
FBI.
“Sebastian, baby. This is SSA Damian Madoni. We served together.”
He peeled his face from my neck, jaw unhinging as his clouded eyes moved from me to Damian and then back to me.
“You… you know the FBI.”
I laughed at his expression and dropped a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I told you to trust me, baby bird. Another hour and this will all be over. I promise.”
“But you… pushed my father off a balcony.”
“Did I, though? I think maybe he fell. I think,maybe,investigators might rule it as accidental.”