Millions (Dollar 5) - Page 66

“Fuck.” Q looked at the ground, laughing sickly as if he couldn’t quite believe the offer he was about to extend. “I hate you, Prest, and I’ll never fucking forgive you for putting my family in danger but…merde, I can’t let you die for your stupidity.”

He looked up, eyes on fire and reluctance in every vowel. “I made my own mistakes by shooting you and bringing you here. My wife kindly reminded me that I played a role in this catastrophe, and you just reminded me that honour separates man from monster. I can’t kick you out when you most need my help.”

“I don’t need your help, Mercer,” Elder snapped. “This was never about you. This is about me protecting what I love.”

“Yes, and this is me protecting those I love. You leave, you die. You stay, you might live. We all might live.” Glancing at Selix then back at Elder, Q grunted, “Hatred can blind us, but for now, I can see. And the only scenario I can see is the one where you stay.”

“If I stay, they’ll—”

“They’ll come.” Q shoved his hands in his pockets. “You’ll stay. They’ll come. But that’s the last thing they’ll ever do. We’ll fucking kill them and be done with this.” He smirked coldly. “At least then I can go back to hating you with a clear conscience.”

There had been another way.

Elder didn’t have to die, but the stubborn ass didn’t move or accept the truce. He studied Q as if he hadn’t spoken English—as if his offer was riddled with booby-traps.

And perhaps it was, but for now…Elder doesn’t have to die.

Q sniffed and muttered a French slur.

Yanking his hand from his pocket, he held it out spear-straight, poised for Elder to accept. “What are you waiting for, Prest? We have a fucking war to win.”

Chapter Nineteen

______________________________

Elder

WHAT COULD I say that wasn’t ungrateful, suicidal, or plain melodramatic?

Thanks, your help isn’t wanted?

Your offer to save me from dying isn’t needed?

I don’t require your meddling so just fuck off?

I hated him but I couldn’t deny I was blown away by his olive branch.

What sort of bastard did that?

I hadn’t meant to blow apart every truth festering inside me. I hadn’t meant to explode or reveal every condemnation and self-disgust I carried.

But he’d pushed and fucking pushed and now…everyone knew.

I didn’t know why he’d chosen to extend his hospitality to include shared warfare, but whatever the reason, he’d fucked me because Pim barrelled into my arms, kissed my cheek, and winced in sympathy as I groaned in pain from my stupid wound-filled body.

She wriggled closer as if she wanted to climb inside and erase the darkness I lived with. As if the purity of her love could save me.

I loved her.

But she couldn’t save me.

Only facing my past could do that.

I wanted to clutch her hard and heal, so I could be the man she expected me to be. I wanted to be immortal and invincible so she would never be alone or unprotected.

But I was just a man.

A man who’d fucked up too many times.

A man who had to make a decision.

Mercer never took his eyes off me; his hand outstretched unwavering, waiting.

We stood toe to toe, glaring at each other. I’d fought this man—I’d shed his blood like he’d shed mine, and now, as he waited to strike a bargain with death, I looked past the aloof arrogance and saw something I didn’t want to see.

He was me.

We were two men who’d fucked up a lot, but when it came to protecting those we cared about, nothing and no one would get in our way.

In this instance, I was the one in the way. I was the reason Pim and the Mercer family were in danger. And instead of casting me out and allowing me to die so no one else had to, he offered me a life-line of resources.

How could I refuse?

How could I trade living over death?

The answer…I can’t.

Barely breathing and still drowning in thoughts of pain and carnage, I slotted my hand into his.

Touching him made every instinct want to strike him down before he could strike me. There was an undercurrent in him that fed the undercurrent in me. Something that said the man before me wasn’t truly who he portrayed. He was something society would never appreciate or accept.

I related because I had that same dirt, that same need to control and slaughter. That same bone-cracking drive to be better than I was and failing at every turn.

We clasped strongly.

We squeezed with intention.

We sealed the bargain with seriousness bound from mutual hate.

The moment we relinquished our bond, Q turned to his wife. “Take Suzette, Lino, Pimlico, and the on-site staff and lock yourself in our bedroom.”

Pointing at Franco, he commanded, “Round up the security team. Let’s get ready to hunt.”

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