Golden Burn (Songs of Crime #1)

23. Odin

23

Odin

‘The Weakness’ - Rustin Kelly

I send Etta off to the hotel room to get some rest before we have to sit with the Prince of Hell tonight, sipping wine and chatting about inventory.

If I don’t put a bullet through his brain, I’d call it a success.

Dom and Ford stay behind, both of them as tired as I am. The bags under their eyes are evident enough. It’s my fault I ordered the wedding forward. It’s my fault they haven’t had a break in weeks—months. It’s my fault I dragged them into this, knowing the dangers, all for the sake of revenge.

And yet… I can’t stop. Not when I’m so close.

“When were you going to tell me about hiring a wedding planner?” I ask Dom, failing to keep the edge from my voice.

“I wasn’t. You have enough to focus on. Gwen is my problem.”

“Problem? Do you two have a history? ”

Dom sighs. “Yes, we do. But it’s none of your business. She knows the intricacies, the power balances of this underground world better than all of us, and she needed a job. I can handle it.”

I hum, accepting his answer. If Dom didn’t think it was worth his time, then he wouldn’t do it.

My attention switches to Ford, whose expression is grim as he reads a document. “This is some list.” He passes me the stapled papers. At the top of the page is a single line—Etta’s Options—and a list that cascades down in alphabetical order of country, followed by the state in which you can find each of the properties I own and whether it’s available.

“Please, tell me your thoughts,” I drawl, striding over to the mini but lavish kitchenette to make myself an extra strong coffee.

Ford shrugs. “I don’t know. Seems a bit pointless now that you like her.”

I scoff. “I don’t want her as my wife, and she doesn’t want me as her husband. She should get as far away from me as she can.”

“What a fucking joke,” he mutters.

The grip on my mug tightens. It’s not often that Ford’s views clash with mine. I trust he knows what he’s doing, making sure Dom and I are safe, and he trusts me to run my life and my business the best way I can. He turns to face me, irritation rippling across his features. “How long are you going to do this?”

“Do what?”

“Keep putting us all in danger.”

“Ford,” Dom presses.

“I’ve known you for nine years. I’ve been by your side every second of it. You are normally so controlled. But ever since we found Etta, you’ve been unraveling. Making mistakes that are costing us our safety,” Ford says .

The coffee sours in my stomach, turning to shards of ice that poke and press. “And what would you have me do? Stop? Go back to buying properties and living in luxury?”

“I think you both need to take a breather. This isn’t what we need right now,” Dom says, his tone even.

Ford clearly isn’t done. “You need to get a hold of yourself. Put a cap on your teenage crush.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You want to fuck her, Odin. That’s what I’m talking about.”

“You’re delusional if you think she even likes me,” I retort, dropping my voice in case Etta hears.

“No, I’m not and you know it. I’m perceptive. It’s my fucking job.” He backs down, changing tactics. “I know what you’re thinking all the time. I know when you’re descending into your memories, I know when you want to shoot someone in the head, I know when you’re pissed but impressed, I know when you find a problem and can see a way to fix it that will mean you come out on top.” He steps forward. “I know when you’re lying.” Another step. He’s fucking brave for saying this shit to me. “I know the look on your face when you want to fuck and not feel anything. But what I don’t know is the opposite. I’ve never seen you look at someone like you do Etta. Like fucking her is a step you have to earn first. And that… that is what I’ve been seeing. You just won’t admit it.”

“We’re done.” I can’t listen to this right now. “Don’t bring this shit up again. Sending Etta away is the only thing that will keep her safe. I will not have another wife’s blood on my hands.”

This time Ford’s voice holds a thread of sympathy. It cuts me deeper than his fury. “Then you should have thought this through better. You should have let the Lombardos tear themselves apart and never have gotten yourself involved in their sickness.” He pauses, weighing his words. And because it’s Ford, he says them, anyway. “You should have let it go at Gregory’s death.”

With my insides hardening to concrete, I turn and stalk away, dismissing them with a wave. “Go. You need some rest before shit hits the fan tonight.”

“You can say that again,” Ford mutters as he leaves, slamming the door behind him. And he calls me a teenager.

Dom walks over to my side and places a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “You should rest, too. We all need to be unified.”

“We will be,” I reply and finish my drink.

Ford’s just overworked and stressed about his husband’s safety, as he should be. I shouldn’t have snapped at him. I shouldn’t have dismissed him when I knew he was speaking the truth.

The moment is gone now and all I can hope is that he finds it in himself to trust me, even when I keep stumbling.

I will bring the Lombardos to heel. I will succeed.

Otherwise, my wife’s death would have been for nothing.