Page 153 of The Finish Line
A minute passes, maybe more, and Sean lights up another cigarette and passes it to me. I take a deep inhale, feeling lighter than I have in almost a decade.
“He never gave me a reason to suspect him, but it all makes sense now. It was so fucking obvious, Sean. So fucking obvious. I got a confession from Jerry that he sent Miami before I put a bullet in him but never asked for his source. I was so anxious to get back to Cecelia I didn’t press any further. I never thought Antoine was equipped enough. He played me well, distracting me with his own drama, but the truth is, who the fuck else would’ve known about a loyalty dispute in our club? Who would dig so far to find out?” Fury buds in my veins at the idea that the man who tossed the grenade—who set the events of years of hell I’ve been through into motion—almost got away with it.
“There are no coincidences, not in this game, we all know that, but that’s why you have us.”
“Thank fuck for that.”
“And what you did for me, for my family—”
“Don’t, Sean, it’s the least I could do. You joined a crusade to help avenge my family without anything—”
“I gained everything, brother, everything. And I would do it all over again in a heartbeat. The hellacious road less traveled has been worth it, man. I only wish he was still with us.”
I give him a slow nod as Cecelia ambles toward us with Beau in tow, the serene expression on her face lit up by the single street lamp at the end of her long driveway.
“She’s really upped her game,” Sean says in contemplative observance. “I was fucking blown away when she put this all together.”
“I trust her with everything, Sean. Everything. I hope you’re good with her making decisions for the club in the future.”
“I’m gold with it. I think we all saw it in her.” He turns to me. “And when you two are ready, it’s time to get back to work.” He drops his cigarette and crushes it with his boot before nodding toward the house. “See you inside.”
Sean steps away, intercepting Cecelia a few feet from where I stand. I force myself to watch their interaction as they exchange whispers. She wraps her arms around him briefly, and he returns her hug before releasing her. The shared intimacy doesn’t gnaw at me the way I thought it would, nor does her smile or their glance back at each other when they part. It’s when her eyes flick to mine, and she gives me a pensive look before she ushers Beau into the back seat that the strain of our own exchange sets in.
I grip her hips and spin her just as she shuts the door.
“Don’t feel guilty.”
“I can’t help it.”
“Entertain Mr. Handsome? You like making me jealous.”
She grins because she knows I’m still piecing it together.
“You left that to-do list in a rather convenient place, Trésor. But it was last on the list.”
She twists her lips. “It was to throw you off his scent. He was mine to take down. I just didn’t know he was going to bait you tonight. Antoine allowed it last minute, but I knew you could take him.”
“Jesus, I’ve created a monster.”
“Yes, you have, my king.”
I shake my head. “Still not a king.”
“Agree to disagree.”
“I’m okay with you...” I look toward the direction Sean went, “having whatever friendship you end up having with him.”
“Considering I’ve been talking to him daily behind your back, that means a lot, but I’m more concerned about your relationship with him. For a second, I thought you were wrestling until I figured out that hug was a way to keep your man chests from rubbing together.”
I roll my eyes as her lips turn up before concern takes over.
“Are you . . . two . . . okay?”
“Yeah—” I nod—“we are.”
“Is that the truth?”
“Would I lie to you?”