Sancte Diaboli: Part One (The Elite Kings Club Book 6)

by Amo Jones

  “Not that bad…” Bishop grunts.

  “How are you feeling about the ceremony?” I ask, moving the curtain out of my way so I can see a clear view of the driveway. I watch as Brantley moves around his Bugatti, his phone pressed to one ear with his hand resting on his car.

  “Ready for it to be over.”

  “Bishop?” I whisper, as Brantley climbs into his car and Tillie in hers. “I love you.”

  He sucks in a breath. “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing.” I chew on my bottom lip. “I’m just telling you.”

  “Saint, I—”

  I hear shuffling in the background and people calling out to him. “I’ve got to go. I’ll come see you tomorrow.”

  I smile. “Sure. Bye.” As I bring my arm down, my stomach drops with it. I know what I’m doing is going to be seen as a betrayal, but I have to do this. I made a promise.

  She sent me the details I needed, which included a damn limo ride to the nearest airport. I didn’t know where. I hadn’t stepped inside the city before, so everything was like bright lights to me. The rushing, the urgency that everyone moved to didn’t process through my brain. Why was everyone in such a hurry? For what?

  We pull up to the airstrip and the driver slides the tinted window down that separates the back and the front.

  His eyes come to mine in the rearview mirror. “Miss Vitiosis, your jet awaits…”

  I gape up at the sleek black private jet. The cabin is open, with stairs leading out to the tarmac. There are three men in suits standing at the end, all armed with heavy guns.

  “Thank you,” I whisper, reaching for the door and opening it. The trunk is already popped and one of said men in suits is carrying out my duffel bag.

  I pull out my phone and hit dial on the number I have for her.

  She answers.

  “Madison. I’m leaving now.”

  Blood soaked through my shirt, my hands stretched wide and tied to the tree stump. I knew I was done for. I would never see my family again. I would never get to bully Sandra Mckenna again, even though I got great pleasure in rubbing it in her face that the reason why she suffered from poor body odor and acne was because she couldn’t stop eating all that greasy and nasty food. Sure, shoving her head into the oil pot in the cafeteria was probably taking it a little too far, but I mean, it could have been worse. Duh. I could have waited until the oil was boiling before doing it. But that would have killed her, and I didn’t want to do that. I wanted to destroy her. I liked destroying people, but I liked sex more, which was how I ended up here in the first place.

  I had too much pride to say anything else. My daddy taught me better. You go down proud, not a coward, and that’s how I will do it.

  “Smile for Daddy, Ava Garcia. Your playtime is almost up.”

  Brantley

  There’s a secret. A fucking big one. One that I’ve kept from her forever, and one that no one talks about. People know about it, but they don’t speak of it.

  I floor it forward until my car shoots off the main highway, sticking to the same route I always stick to when Nate’s name flashes over the screen on my dash.

  I answer it and hit speaker. “What?”

  “Are you out on a job?”

  I grit my teeth. I’m more frustrated than normal lately, and I’m betting it has everything to do with the fact my cock knows what she feels like around it. I adjust myself and drop the car into third, shooting forward. “No. There’s a lead I’m chasing with who it was that drugged us that night. Why? What’s wrong? Need someone to go baby shopping with you?”

  “Fuck you.” Nate chuckles. “Asshole.” It was too late to take back the words after I had spat them out. I forget about Micaela. I shouldn’t tease them so much with it.

  “You need something or you just miss the taste of my cock?”

  “Again, fuck you. Yeah, I’m with Hector. I’ll put you on speaker.”

  “Brantley?” Hector’s voice comes through my phone and I sit up a little straighter. “Son, I have a lead. I don’t want you going there until I’ve sent in backup.”

  “Just send the details through. That prick fucking drugged me while Saint was around. He’s down to his final hours.”

  Pause.

  “Son, it’s complicated.” A door opens and closes in the background.

  “Bran?” Bishop’s voice is hard. “Where are you? I’ll meet you.”

  “About to head over the bridge.”

  Another stretch of silence.

  “Which bridge?” Bishop asks, and I can imagine all of their faces now. They’d be all looking among each other, wondering when I’m going to explode. Because I haven’t. But in my defense, exploding isn’t my thing. It’s Bishop’s and Nate’s go-to to hide any of their emotion. I don’t explode. I implode, and the only person that I damage is myself. Works better this way.

  “Wickers Lane.” I hang up the phone before they can talk me out of it. The scenery on the New York side of Wickers Lane Bridge and the Riverside end are not all that different. Riverside isn’t as small as you would think, and just like Perdita, everyone who lives here knows who the fuck we are.

  But this time when I say we, I mean not just The Kings.

  Someone else, too.

  I drive my car over the cobblestone that arches over Hector’s waters below. Never really liked coming back to Riverside. It was like visiting old ghosts that you tried to bury a long time ago. Not that I have ever been old enough, or was even born yet to remember a lot of the events that happened here, as well as the driving out of EKC, but the smell of being unwanted is heavy in the air any time we’ve had to come back.

  I drive down the dimly lit road until I reach the end, and the sign, Riverside Welcomes You.

  “Yeah, fucking right,” I whisper, flooring it until I’m passing through the town. People are walking around, going about their day, and every so often you see them staring at my car.

  “Yeah, fucking right,” I whisper, flooring the car forward until I’m passing through the town. People are walking around, going about their day, and every so often I catch them staring at my car.

  They know. If there’s some flashy fucking Euro vehicle that’s blacked-out rolling through the streets of Riverside, they fucking know that a King is behind those heavily tinted windows, and no one, and I truly mean no one who lives here wants that.

  I park my car in one of the spots outside of the town square, running my finger over my upper lip. All I have to do is wait, and one of the cocksuckers will jump out from somewhere.

  When they don’t, I start up my car again and rev the engine, just as another call comes through. Bishop this time.

  “What?” I snap, grinding my teeth.

  “I know you’re mad.”

  “Fucking furious. They pulled that shit with Saint. I need them dead.”

  “You and me both, brother, but you need to pull out. Meet me at Buckingham. We can talk there as a group. I know you’re feeling trigger-happy and you want to eighty-six all those fools, but you can’t right now. Meet me there.”

  I pull out of the town square, the anger only bubbling further.

  Revenge is sweet, and I just so happen to be fucking starving.

  Saint

  The plane landed forty minutes ago, but I needed to rush to the bathroom instantly after getting off the jet. I don’t know if I like flying long periods of time. That was twelve hours, and I feel like I’ve lost a whole week.

  It’s quiet, the only sound the slight dripping of a tap. I turn it around and cup my hands beneath, waiting until they’re full before splashing water over my face.

  “Ava Garcia,” I whisper, rubbing water from my eyes. I jerk backward as a black shadow zips past me. It was through blurred vision because of the water, so I reach to the side to grab a paper towel, rubbing it over my face.

  No one is there.

  I sigh, tossing the paper towel into the trash can and rub the sides of my temples. I think I’m losing my mind. />
  I make my way back out to the lobby area and follow the directions that lead out to the arrivals lounge. Madison knew that this was my first time at an airport, so she outlined exactly where I needed to go. Pulling my carry-on luggage with me, I pass through customs and enter the lounge. There is a man in a suit standing at the carrousel, holding a sign that reads Swan.

  I pause.

  He stares at me.

  I nod my head and make my way to him as he lowers the sign and tucks it beneath his arm. “I’ll take your bag, Saint. Madison is in the car.”

  “Thank you,” I say, following behind him as we make our way outside.

  Heat slaps me across the face, instantly confusing me further. “What? It’s winter!”

  The back door of a limo swings open and I slide inside. “What is this weather?” I say as I’m closing the door. When I swing my eyes to the front, I stop.

  I notice her belly instantly. Madison is even more beautiful in real life, but there’s something so obvious that I can’t help but point out. “You’re pregnant,” I yelp, the car slowly pulling away from the curb.

  She shuffles restlessly, a hand on her small belly. She’s not far along, but she’s not exactly hiding it either. “Yes.” she tucks her hair behind her ear. “It’s why I called you to come. That favor I need from you?” When her eyes connect with mine, she pauses slightly before shaking her head. “Man, the resemblance is uncanny…”

  “Tillie and I get that,” I answer gently.

  “Not Tillie. Bishop.”

  “Oh,” I say, chewing on my lip. “Well, none of the boys have said that.”

  “They won’t.” Madison rolls her eyes, chuckling while looking somberly out the window. “Because they’d want in your pants too much.”

  I brush her off as she reaches for a bottled water, handing me one. “Anyway, that favor I need from has to do with your blood.”

  I swallow, wipe my mouth with my hand and then place it on top of my thighs. “Okay. What do you need from me?”

  We make our way through the city that Madison, I think, said was called Auckland. Weird name, big city. Not as big as New York, and with cars that drive on the other side of the road, but still big.

  She unlocks the door to a hotel, and gestures for me to enter. I place my bag beside the kitchen table. I still don’t know how to take Madison. All I know is Bishop’s pain, so naturally I feel on edge with her.

  She points to the sofa in the sitting room, where there are full city views from the windows. “Sit, please. I already feel bad for dragging you away.” She disappears into the kitchen, before reentering, holding two bottles of juice.

  I take one from her, slowly lowering to the leather sofa. “How did you know that I would come and not bring Bishop?”

  She flinches at the mention of his name, before taking a seat opposite me on the single-seater sofa. “I guess I didn’t. I have heard that you two are very close now, so in the back of my mind I didn’t know if you would.” She tilts her head, and that’s when everything clicks. She is the doppelgänger of Madison Beer. The long brown hair, eyes, face shape. “Why didn’t you bring him?”

  I twist the lid off my juice. “He’s in enough pain. I wasn’t going to drag him into this, too.” I offer a small smile to soften the words.

  They didn’t help, because her eyes turn glassy and her lip quivers. “I’m sorry.” She swipes beneath her eyes, wiping away the tears. “Pregnancy makes me emotional.”

  My eyes fall to her belly. “So, you’ve met someone else?” I really didn’t want to ask this because I didn’t want to have to hide this from Bishop. I now understand why she didn’t tell me the favor before I left, because I would have told Bishop.

  Her watery eyes shoot to mine. “Fuck no!” Her face scrunches. “Sorry. No. I—something happened before I left. Though it was only once that it happened, and Bishop and I are, let’s just say, active, I’m almost certain that this baby is his. But I need to be sure.”

  I take a small sip of my juice, tilting my head. “Be sure, because?”

  “Because if it’s not his.” Her eyelashes flutter. “Then I will stay here and adopt it out.”

  “And if it is?” I ask, leaning forward.

  Her eyes come to mine. “Then it will be his choice. He’s angry with me, and I know that, but I also know that he hasn’t come to get me, which he usually would, which means he’s more than angry, he’s hurt.”

  “He is,” I whisper, gazing off into the distance, before coming back to her.

  She continues. “I have my doctor coming tonight. I hope that’s okay?”

  I roll the plastic bottle between the palms of my hands. “That is perfect. I want to be back as soon as possible, even though Brantley is going to kill me anyway. I might take a nap before then, if that’s okay.” My brain is slow, and I’m not processing things at speeds I usually would.

  “Of course,” she says, standing from the sofa and placing her juice on the glass coffee table in front of it. “I’ll show you to the spare room. I arrived a few days ago. I had to prepare all of the scenarios that played through my head prior to asking you this.”

  I follow her down the hallway until we reach three doors. One is already open, showing a bathroom, and the other two are closed, I’m guessing bedrooms. She swings open the door and gestures inside.

  “There’s the bathroom over there, towels and everything you need, um, hey…”

  I turn to face her, placing my bag on the floor inside.

  “Thank you. I can’t express how grateful I am for you doing this. I had no idea how I was going—” She gulps, her eyes welling up. “To find out how or what I would do.”

  I nibble on my lip, trying to stop myself from asking the question that’s on the tip of my tongue. “What do you think Bishop would say if the baby wasn’t his?”

  Her eyes widen, her cheeks flushing red. “He wouldn’t want to raise it.”

  I unzip my bag, taking out some Tommy lounge shorts and a tank. “That’s where I think you’re wrong.” I drop down onto the bed, watching her. “I think he loves you enough to accept that child even if it isn’t his.”

  “What are you saying?” she asks softly, and I watch as her shoulders sag and her eyelids turn heavy.

  “Madison,” I whisper gently, not wanting to upset her.

  She’s obviously beautiful, but I can see that the stress has not been kind. Her hair is long and brown, but without the gloss of the blowouts I have seen in so many photos. There are bags under her eyes that show her lack of sleep.

  “I’m saying that you should let him choose regardless of the outcome.”

  Her eyes snap to mine, before a small smile tugs on the edge of her lips. “Sleep. I will wake you when he gets here.”

  “A little before, please. I always need a good twenty minutes after waking to be able to talk.”

  She chuckles. “Okay. Deal.”

  When she shuts the door behind herself, I quickly dash into the shower and scrub my body of the sticky odor of travel, before brushing my teeth and running a brush through my hair. I’m back in my bedroom, hitting the lights off and drawing the curtains closed, when my phone starts vibrating on the bedside table.

  I didn’t leave it behind. I wanted to be able to answer it and communicate with Brantley. This wasn’t me running away, and I didn’t want him to stress about me, not when I know that they’re all trying to figure out the whole drugging dilemma.

  I plop down onto the mattress and fight my tired eyes to open the text messages.

  12 unread texts

  8 missed calls

  I sigh, opening the first text message.

  Brantley: Where the fuck are you?

  Brantley: I got your note. You better be fucking joking.

  My note was simple. It said that I would be home on Saturday, ready for the ceremony on Sunday and to not worry.

  Brantley: I am going to kill you. I swear to all the gods, Saint. You’re dead.

  Bishop: Wher
e are you?

  Bishop: You can’t just disappear. I can’t do another one…

  That text stops me. Guilt settles inside of my belly, and before I can stop myself, I hit dial on Bishop’s name. Then I hang up. I open a text to Brantley.

  Me: I am okay. Be home soon.

  I click on Bishop’s name. Me: You don’t ever have to worry about that. I promise it’s important, okay? I’ll be home on Saturday.

  My phone slips from my hand as my eyes slowly close.

  My lashes flutter against my cheeks. I try to open them, but every time I do, I feel as though they’re being weighed down by heavy cement blocks.

  The smell hits me first. Fried flesh, rotten marrow, and dried organs.

  A tree.

  I shoot up from the bed, my fingers clenched around the sheets while a piercing sound stabs my eardrums. It’s not until Madison crashes through my door with her hands covering her ears that I realize… that sound is me.

  I stop screaming, while wrapping my knees against my chest and rocking back and forth.

  “Hey!” Madison enters the room farther, closing the door behind her and sitting on the mattress. Her hand comes to mine, squeezing me gently. “It’s okay. It’s a nightmare.”

  I exhale the breath I didn’t know I was holding, lying back on the bed until I’m resting against the headboard. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “It’s fine,” she says. “Do you want me to get you a drink of water or anything?”

  I shake my head. “No, it’s okay.”

  My phone rings on the bedside table and I reach for it aimlessly. When I see Brantley’s name flash over my screen, my insides crumble.

  Madison follows my eyes and flinches. “He scares me. Please answer it.”

  I swipe my finger across and slowly bring my phone to my ear. “Hello?”

  “Question.” His voice is low, and every single vocal cord that he exudes hits every corner of my soul. Ice slides down my spine and goosebumps rise all over my flesh. My eyes find Madison and she runs her fingers over the tiny bumps on my arm.