Page 52 of Bastard

They idolize him. Why am I surprised by this?

But it’s obvious they respect and admire him. He has their complete trust, doesn’t he?

I bite my lip, considering why he’d give up a normal life for work. Hayden’s made something of himself. He prevents horrendous things from happening. Like our present assignment—stopping the production and trade of nuclear weapon components. His work is shady. It’s violent. It’s hardcore. But it’s also necessary.

Hayden’s an unsung hero. Only a few people—his men, the governments that hire him,me—understand his organization exists. He’s the CEO of killers. Leading a team who’d do anything for him.

He’s married to his work, isn’t he? Leaving no room for anyone else. No time for loving someone.

But Diego balances both. From what Madelyn’s said, so does her sister Kylie and her husband, Jaxson.

Why can’t he?

“We best hurry before a lion makes a meal out of our luggage,” someone says.

My mood lightens, and given my history with lions, I laugh.

We’ve piled everything we brought in the clearing where the helicopter dropped us off. It’s taken us two trips to carry the bags and supplies to the huts.

It’s midafternoon by the time we’re settled in. “Would you like to come upstairs for a beer?” I ask the men.

They look at each other.

One familiar face—a man from poker night—nods.

An intercom system is installed inside each hut. It connects to a large, ground-level building, where normal tourists would check in. Our arrangements were made ahead of time, so we go directly to my room. I use the intercom to order the men beer.

Much later, they begin to open up.

“I haven’t relaxed this much in years,” one man says.

“And I haven’t laughed this much in forever,” another comments.

Everyone chuckles at that.

“I’m good company, what else can I say?” I shrug a shoulder. “Better company than the Bastard, right?”

One by one, they freeze.

“No one calls him that?”

Silence, until the man swinging in a hammock speaks up. “Not since Cork.”

“Cork, Ireland? You were there with him?”

“Fuck, yes.”

I sip my water—aside from sangria, I’m not a drinker.

“All of us were there. It was a total bloodbath.”

I choke as I swallow.

The man next to me pats my back. “You okay, Luciana?”

“What happened?”

“Boss set a trap. Those fuckers never saw it coming.”