Page 26 of The Hitman's Prince

Daren made a disgruntled noise and followed me intothe office, leaning against the doorframe while I situated myself behind the desk. I’d made good progress getting through the meat of all the lies and promises my father had gotten our family tangled up in, but there were still some loose ends that needed tying. There was also unrest from within the family ranks, but that would take more thought to deal with.

Whereas the North and Sinclair families spent years pretending to be more important than they were, the Angelinis had spent generations trying to give the illusion of less. After the underhanded deal I brokered with Gideon and Fletcher, lots of inner workings had seen the light of day for the first time and, while the three of us were pleased with the outcome, there were a handful of malcontents in my father’s ranks that would have to be picked off. The tedious part was waiting for them to talk to the right person—or in their case, the wrong one—so I could take action.

“Should my feelings be hurt?” Daren asked, pushing out his bottom lip to mock a child pouting.

“Unless you want to get put on the payroll, Daren, I don’t have much else for you.”

He cocked his head to the side, dark eyes calculating. “What did you have in mind?”

I frowned down at the list of names I’d scribbled on an old note pad the day before. Six people who’d been making the most noise about the new order of things. Six people who would need to be handled with discretion.

“I don’t think you’re cut out for this line of work.”

“What did you have in mind?” he repeated.

“There are people I already pay for this kind of thing.”

Just like I’d paid Orion.

Maybe outsourcing wasn’t the worst idea ever, because trusting the people I paid was how I’d ended up with a bullet in the chest.

“I need some information,” I finally said, rubbing hard at the bridge of my nose and groaning when I pressed hard enough for my vision to blur.

“I can get you information, Angelini. Tell me what you need.”

Chapter 20

Caspian

Ididn’t sleep any better after sucking Vince’s cock, and I didn’t feel any better after giving my confession to that priest. The Catholics were full of shit. There was no absolution to be found for me.

What was the unfairness of my life, to be in love with a man who didn’t know I existed? To think that killing him would be a mercy for us both? Even after I shot him, Vince Angelini still didn’t know I existed. Well, he knew me now, but he didn’t reallyknowme. He knew me as a man he’d met on the street, a man who’d propositioned him and sucked his cock, then disappeared into the shadows again. With his cum in the back of my throat, I’d slunk home to my apartment where I’d teased the tip of my painful erection though the night. I hadn’t slept, hadn’t eaten, hadn’t showered.

Instead I’d cried onto my cock, gone to church andconfessed my sins, but I didn’t feel any better. The priest gave me a rosary and taught me how to say the Hail Mary’s he’d punished me with, but I didn’t bother. The beads were wrapped around my fingers, warm for how long I’d been holding them.

It was Monday morning and I still hadn’t slept. I still hadn’t come. I was in love and I was useless.

This was no way to live.

The fact I’d botched the hit was bad enough. That kind of thing couldn’t go without absolution, and that was probably where my lack of sleep was coming from. It had been over a month since I shot Vince an inch too far to the left, and over a month since I’d gotten my last call from the agency. Even though I was sure the Catholic church was shit, there had to be someone looking down on me to protect me.

Much like Vince, I shouldn’t be alive.

I’d brokered a deal for my family’s livelihood, but I hadn’t paid my side of the deal. They wouldn’t let that slide forever.

My phone vibrated against the outside of my thigh, and I reached blindly for it, swiping the call to answer without even looking to see who was calling. If it was the agency, if it was my time, there wasn’t anything I could do to stop it anyway.

“Hello?” I asked, voice breaking. I cleared my throat and blinked up at the cracks in my ceiling.

“Caspian.”

“Yes.”

“You have a second chance,” a woman’s voice said.

“What do you mean?” I held my arm up over my head, let the rosary unfurl until the crucifix dangled like a swinging blade over my sternum.

“With your mistake.”