The King (The Original Sinners: White Years, #2)(122)

“I want The Renaissance,” Kingsley asked. “We’ll make it a fair deal, and I’ll pay you half what you paid to the city.”

“Done.”

“And I want all your camps to close,” Kingsley said. “All of them. Every last one of them. You are out of the conversion business.”

“Those camps make us a lot of money,” Fuller said. His every word sounded pained and restrained. If he dropped dead of a heart attack on this f loor right now, Kingsley wouldn’t have been surprised.

“I know,” Sam said. “Lucy admits to that, too. She’s quite a talker when you get some booze into her and give her a few orgasms. She loves being fisted. Want to see? I can go get another copy of the tape.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Fuller took a deep breath. “Fine. You have a deal. I close the camps and you buy The Renaissance. If a word of this gets out, it’s over. For both of you.”

“Are you threatening me? A man whose wife hasn’t let him f*ck her in ten years, and I’m supposed to be scared of you?” Kingsley asked.

“You piece of shit.” Fuller raised his arm to throw a punch, but Kingsley caught him easily by the wrist.

“Let me go,” Fuller said, struggling against him.

“A Catholic priest taught me this trick,” Kingsley said, squeezing Fuller’s wrist until he felt bone. “I’m more Christian than you’d think.”

“Catholics aren’t real Christians,” Fuller spat back.

“Oh, no,” Sam said. “You really shouldn’t have said that.”

Kingsley twisted his hand and broke Fuller’s wrist. The snapping sound was music to his ears.

Fuller screamed like a demon was clawing its way out of his soul.

“I am so hard right now,” Kingsley said with the biggest smile on his face he could ever remember wearing. “This must be how that blond monster feels all the time.”

Sam stepped in front of Fuller and stared down at him as he cradled his broken wrist against his stomach.

“You’re vile,” Sam said. “You tell lies to children and make them think they’re evil. And this whole time you’re the evil one living with someone evil who is doing evil every day. Faith Spencer was in love with your wife, and your wife sent her to hell for it.”

“I told you. She’s a sick woman. She needs help and prayer and—”

“She is sick,” Sam said. “But not because she’s gay. She’s a sexual predator who preyed on a confused teenage girl at your church. You both make me sick. Now get out of here. You don’t deserve to be in Kingsley’s house, to breathe Kingsley’s air. Or mine. You call your lawyer, you draw up the papers, you close the camps—and you sell us The Renaissance, and you do it all in one week or every television news station, every newspaper, every Christian radio show will get a copy of that tape. Even the motherf*cking 700 Club.”

“Go to hell,” Fuller said to Sam.

“I’ve already been to hell,” Sam said. “That’s where I met your wife.”





39


WITHOUT ANOTHER WORD, FULLER STORMED OUT OF Kingsley’s office, still cradling his limp arm. Kingsley exhaled. Then he laughed. Then he turned to Sam.

Sam bent over a trash can by his desk. He could tell Sam was close to throwing up. Kingsley brought her a glass of water and waited.

“Sorry,” she said, taking the water from him. “Fucking someone you don’t want to f*ck and pretending to enjoy is…”

“Hell,” Kingsley said. “I’ve done it, too.”

“It’s okay. I closed my eyes and thought of Blaise.”

Kingsley cupped the back of her neck. “Sam, are you…”

She waved her hand. “I’ll be fine. I am fine.”

“What did you come back here for?” Kingsley asked. Sam stood up and faced him. “Why did you do this for me? I fired you.”

“I ignored that,” she said, and made a valiant attempt at a smile. “I was always working for you, even when I was taking money from Lucy Fuller. I didn’t plan on you catching me in the act, but it worked out for the best. After you fired me, that convinced Lucy I was on her side. I was never on her side. Never.”

She met Kingsley’s eyes.

“I can’t believe you did this for me,” Kingsley said. “And me. And Faith. And every kid at those camps.” “It worked. You shut them down. Not me, you.”

“Wish I could have done it years ago,” Sam said. “Maybe Faith would still be alive.”

Kingsley took her gently by the arm and pulled her to him. She cried in his arms, and he let her cry. She’d earned her tears and his trust. Her small body shook against his, and he kissed her hair. Soon she’d cried it out and was calm again.

“I would never have asked you to sleep with her,” Kingsley said. “I would never have let you.”

“I know,” Sam said. “That’s why I didn’t tell you I was doing it. You would have ordered me not to.”

“I wouldn’t have let her near you.”

“It’s okay, I promise. It wasn’t fun,” she said. “But what’s done is done. And now…I guess we win.”