Read His Passion (By His Command #4) for Free Online

though it were on fire.
    “Drink up,” John said.
    We all took a drink, John finishing his
glass. I could tell where his terrible aging had come from.
Jonathan took a small drink and I took a sip. The alcohol was
raunchy and spicy. It burned my lips, tongue, and throat.
    “Need a chaser?” John asked.
    I looked at Jonathan and he stood up to get
me some water.
    The fire broke up the silence that fell
between all of us by crackling and spitting a few sparks as knots
of wood tried to hold onto their life.
    “This is home,” John said. “At least for
this weekend.” He smiled at me then turned attention to Jonathan,
who was walking back towards me with water. “You’re lucky you
caught me here when you did. I’m set to fly out tomorrow afternoon.
Heading more north.”
    “I guess I’m just a lucky man,” Jonathan
said.
    He sat next to me and I gazed around the
room. That’s when I realized there had to be damn near every animal
possible in the room. Mounts of deer, elk, a moose, bear, fish, and
some rodent looking things too. There were scenes made up – another
bear, swatting at the hind quarters of a deer.
    “You like my hobby?” John asked.
    It caught my attention and I froze.
    “I guess my son and I both enjoy the thrill
of a kill… although mine are meant to be with animals.”
    I could sense Jonathan wanting to explode.
“Oliver Rush was an animal.”
    John laughed. He pushed himself up from his
chair and walked for another drink.
    “Fair enough, son, fair enough. We obviously
can’t undo what’s done here. I can’t bail you out of this one.
Can’t take back death.”
    “I’m sure you’d fix this if you could,
right?” Jonathan asked. “Like you’ve always done.”
    “Is that sarcasm?” John asked.
    His next drink was twice as big as the
first. He walked back to his chair and sat down, bringing his right
leg up over his left leg. He gripped his ankle and smiled.
    “Come on, Jonathan,” he said, “don’t be an
asshole to me.”
    I gasped. Hearing someone call Jonathan
Black seemed dangerous.
    “I did what I had to do with you, didn’t I?
You were healthy, fed, educated. What more can a father give his
son?”
    “A couple dollars when you throw him out,”
Jonathan said.
    “Eh, that doesn’t teach character, does
it?”
    “I guess not.”
    The conversation grew silent again as John
drank.
    He didn’t just drink, he gulped. He polished
the extra large glass of liquor and then shook his head and blinked
a few times. The alcohol was settling in, and fast. I wasn’t sure
if that was a good thing or not.
    “You know why you’re here?” John asked.
    “I’m assuming we’re going to talk about
money,” Jonathan said.
    “We always do. But now my son is a murderer.
Interesting, isn’t it?”
    “I don’t think so,” Jonathan said. “I saw a
problem and I solved it.”
    His voice was still calm and in control. He
spoke of murder like a common thing that happens in life. It wanted
to scare me but Jonathan was just so sexy talking about it.
    I was hopeless.
    “Well, I can see we aren’t going to talk,
are we?” John asked.
    “You can talk,” Jonathan said. “I’m just
here to collect my…”
    “Why bother wasting more time?” John asked.
“It’s dark now, we’re safe.” John’s eyes shifted to me, meeting my
eyes. I quickly felt uncomfortable and tried to slide closer to
Jonathan.
    Something was happening around me, something
I didn’t know. I felt left out of a conversation that wasn’t
happening. The sense of being watched came over me again and I
wanted nothing more than to jump and scream.
    “Take Isabella Grace to one of the
bedrooms,” John said. “We have business to tend to.”
    Jonathan stood and reached for my hand. I
took it and stood, wanting out of the room and out of the presence
of John. Jonathan led the way and as we walked by his father, he
reached out and the tips of his fingers touched my wrist.
    “See you soon, Isabella Grace.”
    I shivered