Corrupt (Devil's Night 1)

“St. Petersburg.”

“Russia?” Michael said, a stunned look on his face. “What the fuck?”

Kai continued. “His parole officer came looking for him. Damon missed his check-in with him, and after tracking his passport, they found him there,” he explained. “It makes sense. That’s where his father’s people are from, so he’s on friendly ground. They’re not going to go after him, of course, but we can.”

I shook my head. “Just leave him alone.”

Michael turned his eyes on me, looking down. “I’m not waiting for him to just show up back here, Rika. He’s dangerous.”

“He won’t come back,” I stated. “He won’t want to fail a third time. Just leave him alone, and let’s move on.”

Kai and Michael studied me for a few moments, and I hoped they understood what I wasn’t saying.

There had been too much pain. Too many years and too much wasted time. We all needed to start living again.

Damon wouldn’t try to hurt me again. Another attempt after two failures would make him look pathetic. He was gone.

And since we’d found the phone from Devil’s Night right where I suspected—in Trevor’s cabin on board Pithom—and destroyed it, there was absolutely nothing holding us back anymore. It was time to start having some fun.

“So what do we do now?” Will asked.

The corner of Michael’s lips lifted. “What we’re good at, I guess. Wreaking a little fucking havoc.”

And then he jerked his chin, gesturing to the two female servers behind Kai and Will.

The guys turned around, seeing two college-age girls, dressed in black pencil skirts, white blouses, and black vests. They tried to their hide smiles, eyeing them as they lit candles and checked the table settings.

“Delay dinner for us?” Michael asked.

Kai turned back around, his chest shaking with a quiet laugh. “How long do you need?” he asked, backing away with mischief in his eyes.

“An hour.”

Kai and Will turned around with shitty-ass grins on their faces as they followed the girls and disappeared into the kitchen.

I narrowed my eyes up at Michael, confused.

“Come on.” He tugged at my hand. “I want to show you something.”

And then he pulled me along, out of the dining room.

I STEPPED OUT OF THE CAR, the leaves rustling under my heels as I pulled my ivory-colored coat tight around me and slammed the car door.

The day was clear, not a cloud in the sky as I breathed out steam and looked up, seeing the scaffolding, tarps, and small yellow bulldozers sitting around the old cathedral.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

It wasn’t being torn down, was it?

“I’m having it restored,” he answered, taking my hand and leading me inside the front doors.

I walked in, my gaze immediately shooting everywhere as I took in all the work the crew had already done.

The broken and trashed pews in the balcony were now all torn out, and all of the garbage and piles of debris around the floor were completely gone. The sanctuary and old altar had been removed, and there was now a proper door hung at the entrance of the catacombs. Tarps hung over exposed areas in the roof and walls, and a new cement foundation had been laid, clean and solid.

To the right and left, scaffolding went all the way up to the roof, and I also noticed wood framing, as if a second floor were being added.

There were no workers here, probably because it was Thanksgiving.