Sancte Diaboli: Part Two (The Elite King's Club 7)

I chuckle, pulling open the fridge, thankful to see that the front desk sorted someone to restock the fridge. “She hasn’t seen it yet.”

“Are you sure you want her body in Perdita?” I know who he’s talking about, and it ain’t Bailey.

“Yes.”

“Okay. Cash’s body will be back later tonight, but it’s going straight to the mortuary where it’ll remain with Bailey’s until the burial.” It’s too convenient for EKC to also own a mortuary and funeral home, but it has always made things like making bodies disappear easy for our cleanup crew.

I squeeze my eyes closed, leaning my shoulders on the counter. “Have you spoken with Abel?”

“He’s not answering his phone. I’ll drive to his house in the morning.”

“I’ll come with you. Where’s Spyder staying?”

“The only six-star hotel in fucking New York…”

I laugh, tipping my head back and sipping on my water. “Ah, victory.” There has been an underlying battle between Bishop and me about hotels since taking over.

Bishop hangs up on me and I snicker, tossing my phone across the kitchen counter while running my hands over my face. I know tomorrow is going to be filled with organizing the funerals and dealing with the events that happened around both of them. Bailey’s parents are pieces of shit. They don’t deserve to know their daughter, much less make an appearance at her funeral, but I pick up my phone and send off a text to her father anyway. I hope it fucking pains them, but I know it won’t. I move into the sitting room and look out at the bright lights beaming off the city. Bringing a kid into this world isn’t something I wanted to do. Yeah, we’re feared, but we’re not untouchable. With power comes enemies. Mostly, they stay in their lane, but every few years, we’ll get someone with balls too big for his conscience who will try to be the person or group to bring down the most powerful organization in global history. The problem with that is there will always be casualties. Our enemies always fall, but that never stops them from trying. And what happened with Cash and Bailey, can happen to any of us at any given time. There’s no price to power; there’s just blood.

I turn the treadmill up another speed when I find myself not running out of breath. The burn in my chest needs to match the one in my mind. Sweat drips off me and falls onto the conveyer belt as I beat it out to D12. Fatigue throbs at the crux of my bones, but I can’t find the will to stop, because when I stop, I know I’ve got one hundred things to do to organize burying a King and my cousin.

My phone goes off, cutting through Eminem rapping about having a screw loose.

“What!” I snap, jumping off the treadmill. The timer reads 1:43:89 minutes. Damn. It’s not until my feet hit the ground that my legs wobble like jelly.

“What happened?” Gordon Vitiosis, aka my piece of shit uncle and only branch of family I ever had, though he’s a fucking disappointment to not just our name, but the entire existence of humans in general, asks.

“There was an explosion at the manor and she was inside.” I flip open my bottled water and take a sip. “Not that I owe you a fucking apology, since you left her out to die.”

He doesn’t answer.

I grit my teeth. “Just so you know, Bailey grew to be a feisty, opinionated, and above all, passionate girl who would do about anything for those she loved most. It’s your loss that you missed out on that.” I hang up my phone and shove it into my pocket, making my way out of the gym. I pause when I find Saint in the dining room, biting into a bagel.

“Have you slept?” she asks, her head tilting to the side.

“No,” I answer truthfully, ignoring her interrogating gaze. When I turn back to face her after pouring coffee, she’s still watching me. “Say it, Saint.”

“I didn’t say anything.” She moves a spoon through whatever it is inside her glass. “This place is beautiful. Do you stay here often?”

My eyes narrow. “Are you asking me if I bring girls here because I never have to the manor?”

She puckers her lips and I know that’s all she’s been thinking about since waking up. Saint isn’t insecure, so her bringing this up means it must be bothering her. “This isn’t the right time to have this conversation, so we’ll leave it for later.”

“Yeah,” I answer, boring my eyes into her. “Not right now.” I don’t put her out of her misery by telling her no way in hell did any girl or woman ever fuck me in my space, but I’m too pissed at her for bringing it up. The elevator door dings and I know it’s one of The Kings or Benny, since they’re the only ones who have access to my elevator without my permission.