"Just for the record, if we are talking numbers, you bastards can't hold a candle to the women I've had. I've not only had quantity, but I've had quality," John said playfully as Duff placed a cup of tea in front of him. "However, you all are free to utilize my leftovers because I have everything that I need in my precious kitten. There is not a woman whom I have met or will meet who even remotely compares to her."
"Do you need a diary and a pen, sweetheart, so you can write your love sonnets?" Duff asked as the men again burst out laughing.
John flipped Duff off before pouring some cream into his tea. "It's okay, Duff, I understand the jealousy, mate. I'd be livid if I had to watch one of my best friends fucking a woman who is absolute perfection. I'm sure kitten can recommend a counselor if you need to discuss your feelings."
Duff threw back his Scottish head and laughed with the other men as he took a seat beside Luther. With a small, smile still on his handsome face, he said, "I am jealous, mate. Gillian is absolute perfection. With all honesty, I'm glad you found her. How soon before she's pregnant with a wee one?"
"That, I don't know, but I would hope soon."
"Yeah, but I somehow don't think she would agree with you," Patrick replied, popping another biscuit into his mouth. "We need to teach that one to stop analyzing every little thing that happens in her life. She has a bad habit of that, as you know."
"I couldn't agree with you more, boyo," John replied, taking another sip of tea. Glancing at his watch, he said, "Gentlemen, while I enjoy talking about my lovely kitten, we need to get down to business. Pat and I have a meeting with the prime minister at Downing Street in an hour. As you all know, Geno sent us a gift. I have not seen the video yet, but I have been reviewing the journal that kitten gave me. We need to come up with a plan, because he wants Gillian and the rest of us dead, and I just can't allow that."
"Is the information in the journal useful, Johnny?" Patrick asked. "I mean, we know Geno is one fucked up bastard, but is the journal just his ramblings, or is there more?"
Picking up a remote from the table, John clicked a button and a large TV screen descended from the ceiling. "The journal has been somewhat difficult to read, actually. It's a hodgepodge of writings throughout his entire life and quite thick," John said, looking into the Irishman's eyes. "It's not only full of personal information in regard to his whereabouts, but he talks a lot about my father and mother."
"John, why the fuck haven't you said something?" Patrick asked, the turmoil evident in his brother's eyes.
"I think, because I'm still trying to digest it myself," John answered honestly, turning his head to look out the window that made up an entire wall. "Apparently, my mother, Molly, worked for Geno before meeting my father and was pregnant for a short time with his child. I haven't uncovered the reason yet, but she lost the baby before meeting my father. Geno, of course, blames my father for the death of his unborn child. Geno also indicates that my bitch of a stepmother, Ann, was Geno's cousin. The plan was to kill all of us, but Ann began to grow a conscience while having me abused daily, so she sent me to the orphanage."
"Oh, fuck, Johnny," The Irishman replied softly as John's eyes met his. He could see the pain there and knew his brother was reliving the trauma in his mind. He wanted to hug his mate but knew John wouldn't allow that in front of Duff and Luther. "I'm sorry, boyo. I don't know what to say."
"You don't need to say anything, Pat," John replied, looking back out the window. "The really fucked up thing in Geno's journal involves Father Joseph."
Patrick's eyes turned silver and his jaw clenched in anger at the mention of the priest. "What did he say about the bastard?"
"Geno wrote about a brother who went away to join the seminary and how this brother was moved around from church to church because he was suspected of physically abusing children. So, to prove that he was a man of 'moral character', Geno's father purchased an orphanage and put his son in charge of it. What was the name of that orphanage, you ask? The one and only St. Vincent."
"Son of a bitch!" Duff roared as Patrick sat back in his seat and closed his eyes a moment. "They knew that bastard was hurting children, and his bloody father basically gave him a playground in which to do it. That's bullshit!"
"We always suspected that Geno and Father Joseph were connected in some way, now we know how," John said, the bile of disgust rising in his throat. He kept his eyes on Patrick, who was not saying anything. The Brit knew the Irishman was hurting, and that enraged him. He hated to see Patrick hurt. "Geno also indicates that his father 'hand-picked' most of the children who were brought to the orphanage. The children were apparently retribution for a crime committed by their family."
Duff stood up and began pacing the floor as he fought with his own emotions. "I need a fucking minute, mate," the Scottish man said as he went to the door and slammed the door shut behind him.
"Luther, will you make sure Duff is okay?" John asked the African guard as he reached out and grabbed his wrist in comfort. Luther had not been present at the orphanage with the other men but cared greatly about all three of them. John then watched the guard stand up and quickly make his way out of the room. When the door shut behind him, the Brit looked directly at Patrick who was still sitting silently. "Pat talk to me, boyo. What are you thinking? I don't like that you have suddenly become so quiet."
"I'm not sure what to say, Johnny," the Irishman said softly, his eyes meeting the Brit's. There were unshed tears in their turquoise depths. "I'm not even sure what to feel. I would hate to think my parents were murdered and I was sent to the fucking orphanage because of something my parents did to Geno's old man. Neither one of my parents would have ever hurt a fucking fly, but I had always thought they were murdered, so somehow it makes sense. I briefly remember this man coming to our house, wanting to buy a large chunk of our land, but my da threw him out. Maybe that was Geno's father."
"It could have been, and I'm so sorry you have to go through this," John replied, moving to the chair that sat beside his best mate. He placed a hand on the nape of Pat's neck and said, "Our whole lives have been fucked up because of some bullshit that had nothing to do with us! Geno and his father destroyed our families…our right to some sort of happiness! This bastard has tormented us for too long, Pat! Now he is not only trying to hunt us down, but he wants to harm kitten! Kitten, mate! A woman who has done nothing to warrant his rage! A woman who would try to save the bastard if he lay bleeding to death!"
"So, we kill Geno, mate, then what?" Patrick said softly, looking at the Brit. "Does that fix everything in our lives? I have a feeling it won't, because neither one of us have ever dealt with the pain and anguish he's caused us. I don't know about you, but I'm sick of the killing. You've known for some time that I'm ready to quit the game. I won't leave you, boyo, but I would love to have some sense of normalcy in my life. Maybe even have a child one day."
"When Geno's dead, we can have those things, Pat! We can finally stop looking over our shoulder every minute of every fucking day!"