The Kingdom (Preacher Brothers 1)

“You know what?” Cullen finally spoke up and shoved his hands in the front pocket of his jeans. “Fuck it. This is your mess, Dom. You deal with it however the fuck you want. I’m out.” He looked at Wilder and Frankie then. “You guys are a bunch of pussies for keeping your mouths shut.”

Although they hadn’t actually kept their mouths shut, I knew what Cullen was referring to. They hadn’t put up much of a fight. Then again, they weren’t like Cullen. No one really was.

“Just be in the office to talk about the job in an hour. I’m ready to get this shit squared away and go to bed,” Cullen spat before walking out of the garage and back inside.

I knew he’d be the one to give me the biggest issue. He was hardheaded and had emotional problems… meaning he had none. He was as cold, hard, and unmovable as the granite in the kitchen.

But there wouldn’t be anything I didn’t do to protect her, even if that meant going against my brother.

Chapter Seven

Amelia

He’d left me five minutes ago. He’d shown me to this bedroom and then said he’d be back, leaving me here to wonder what in the hell I was going to do. And here I was right now, sitting on the edge of the massive bed, my hands in my lap, my breathing still frantic.

I knew instantly this room was his, with its darkly colored accents but very minimalistic decor, as if he couldn’t be bothered with items adorning the place he lived. Or maybe he just didn’t care.

The latter seemed more accurate.

I closed my eyes and rested my head in my hands, breathing out roughly and trying to think of what I was going to do. What could I do?

I had to breathe, had to control myself, to figure out if I could actually survive this, come out in one piece.

I stood and walked around, looking at the room, running my fingers along everything. There was a small half-bath attached to the room, white subway tiles on the wall and floor, everything looking so barren and clean, crisp and… empty.

There were no windows in the room, because I knew we were in the basement, and it felt kind of like the room was closing in on me, like I was in a box with no air holes.

There was another door opposite the bed, the chrome handle cold in my grasp as I turned it. A closet. Hanging up were black button-down shirts, white tees, and distressed jeans. There were a few black slacks, and I found myself running my fingers over the material.

What the fuck was wrong with me? I needed to figure out how to get out of here.

I closed the door, contemplating tossing his clothes out, destroying the room just for shock value, to be childish—but it wouldn’t matter. I didn’t want to piss him off.

I stared at the bedroom door, assuming—no, knowing it was locked. He wasn’t a stupid man. I knew that, even though I didn’t know him. So I found myself sitting on the edge of the bed again and rubbing my eyes. God, I was tired.

The bed was big, but not so massive it took up too much space in the room. And the sheets were dark, soft. Almost like this contrast. Like he was. Dom.

I played his name over and over in my head.

Was it short for something else? Dominik maybe? Why did I even care?

I also didn’t like the way it made me feel, how I felt this tingle up my spine when I thought about him or just his name.

And then I thought about the man named Cullen, about how cold and hard he seemed, how lifeless his dark eyes were as he’d stared at me. He would’ve killed me, taken my life as easily as swatting a fly. He was the one I should’ve been worried about, not Dom, who saved my life, even though he and the others had put me in danger in the first place.

He was the reason I wasn’t on the floor and lifeless, a bullet hole between my eyes, blood pooled around my body.

I pushed those thoughts away and stared at that bedroom door again. Maybe if I pulled on it hard enough, it would open and I’d be able to escape, rip myself from this reality. I stood, about to walk over to do just that, to try my hardest, even though it wasn’t like I could actually get out of here. If I was in the basement—which I assumed, because we descended stairs—I’d have to go through several more sets of doors.

These men were thieves, professional ones at that, given how they robbed the jewelry store. They had contingencies in place, probably security cameras, weapons… rough firepower to protect what was theirs.