Page 80 of Dark Side of the Cloth (The Righteous 1)
Dean sat on the lawn and watched his two sons argue over who got to push their baby sister in the swing. He wanted a huge family, and he smiled at the three knowing that his fourth would be here in seven months. Dean wasn’t sure he could talk Yasmine into seven, but he was going to try, and if not…having wild sex just for fun was not bad either.
The first couple of years of his and Yasmine’s life together had been a challenge. Dean could see the internal battle Yasmine had every time he left the house to do what he must, but they’d found an understanding. He no longer shared anything about who he was after or why. He never mentioned what he did to them, but he did promise to come home safely.
He’d opened a landscaping company, and his business was quickly growing faster than he had hours in the day. He’d always had a talent for designing, and he’d landed a few large contracts for the town, which was also giving him a great reason to purchase supplies for his other extracurricular activities. The Righteous seemed content with the cover change after some convincing.
Dean hadn’t always pictured this being his life, but now he couldn’t imagine it any other way. He had it all, his beautiful wife, his children, and his duty—he’d won the lottery.
“Don’t argue boys, you can each take turns,” he called out, and their beautiful, twin faces turned to look at him, identical pouts gracing their lips. He loved that they had their mother’s green eyes.
He heard the gate open.
“Sweetie, do you mind grabbing a pitcher of water?”
“That’s a good idea, son. I could use some refreshment.”
Dean jumped up from the ground and went to pull out the gun he normally kept tucked into the back of his pants but ended up grabbing air.
“Shit,” he muttered.
He’d become too complacent, too comfortable with the thought that the devil would never find him. He spun on the intruder. Fear, like ice water, ran down his spine as he stared into the eyes of the man he’d run from the last fourteen years. He clenched his fists as his body screamed to leap across the distance and watch the life squeezed out of his body.
“How did you find me?” Dean bit out. The man he despised stood before him, black suit neatly pressed, dark glasses shading his eyes, but his signature arrogant smile said it all.
“Is that any way to greet your Father? Especially after all this time?”
“I’ll ask you one more time. How did you find me?”
His father wandered over to the large picnic table and sat on the edge of the bench. He looked older and moved slower, but Dean was no fool. He knew that the devil was still inside this man.
“Mercurio, you leave a trail of death in your wake. Even with carefully covered tracks, you draw the attention of certain types. I know the stench of the deaths you reap, son, I taught you. Of course, I would recognize your work. Besides, no name change would stop me from finding my boy.”
“You taught me nothing, and don’t ever call me that name again,” Dean growled as his father smirked.
“Yasmine?” he called out as he positioned himself between his father and his children.
“The very fine red head you have chosen is safe, son, or she will be as long as we come to a mutual agreement.” He turned to one of his men. “Bring the beautiful broodmare in!”
Dean clenched his fist tight as three of his father’s goons came around the corner, one pressing a gun tightly to Yasmine’s head. There was fear in her eyes, and he hated to see it. He hated that his father was bringing this into his peaceful and loving home.
He mentally calculated his odds, and even if he could take the three men out from this far away before his father could aim the gun he has at his children, he would not win.
“What do you want?”
“You know what I want, Mercurio.”
He made a noise in his throat that was close to a growl as he took a threatening step toward his father. “Call me that one more time and see what happens.”
His father raised his hands and nodded at him.
“I like this new you, this new Dean. You are the man I always dreamed you’d become.
“I’m nothing like what you wanted me to be.”
“You know, son, I beg to differ. I think you became exactly what I needed you to be, and you are the next El Chapo. It’s time you came home and learned the ropes.”
“I don’t want to lead the cartel. Why would you want someone to take over that has no interest?” Dean asked.
“Because you are my son!”
