Sin, page 5
“I’m here to deliver a personal invitation.”
“An invitation?” my dad asks, looking as confused as I am.
“Yes. An invitation.” While this Javier talks, his eyes remain on mine, and yet I don’t feel any distress. It’s clear he is trying to make out my role here. Figure out who I am. Suddenly his phone chimes and he pulls it out, reading something and then answering. “You are aware of who Mr. Asher is, no?”
“Yes,” Alton grits out, once more pushing me further behind him. “What does he want?”
“He requests your presence tomorrow for brunch at the Asher estate.” There’s a slick smile on his face. He’s getting a kick out of how uncomfortable the men in my family are. “Eleven a.m. sharp—we don’t take kindly to tardiness.”
“My father and I will be there.”
“All of you.”
“She has nothing to do with—”
“Are you a Foster, sweetheart?” he asks, ignoring the men protesting.
I’m like a deer caught in the headlights.
If I lie, will it come back to bite me in the ass?
If I say the truth, will I get caught up in their mess?
“You don’t need to answer—”
“The next time you try to intimidate her into not answering, Alton, we’re going to have a very large problem on our hands. She can speak for herself.”
Tensions rise. My brother’s muscles coil tight and like an idiot, he reaches back and that’s when I see a gun. More confirmation to set off my worries. Cements my rush to get the hell away.
The intent is there. Pure stupidity.
“I am,” I say before things escalate further. “I’m the youngest child.”
“Then I apologize ahead of time.” Before anyone can blink, a second gun is in his other hand and he points them at my brother and father. My scream is loud. A natural reaction. “Hands off the weapon, Foster. Place them where I can see them.”
He does along with my father. “Tell Asher we will be there. Tomorrow at eleven.”
“All of you?”
“Yes.” I’m the one who answers. Even if I catch hell after he leaves, I want this over with.
Whatever comes tomorrow, I’ll get past it.
Working is all I have left, and it’s my way out from underneath their thumb.
I just hope that this Mr. Asher understands that I’m innocent. That I’m not like them.
6
“WANT TO TELL ME why I left my bed to visit that asshole in the middle of the night?” Javier asks, slipping inside my car across the street from their house in Hinsdale. I’m all too familiar with this gated community, know people that live here, and as she showed her keycard and the gate unlocked to let her in, I followed.
He’s waiting for an explanation, but at the moment my attention is on their house. All the lights downstairs are on, and I can just make out the form of a man pacing in front of the living room windows.
He looks agitated, waving his hand angrily at something or someone.
“I don’t like these fucks.” Something isn’t right with this family. Their arrival here a few months back made waves, but I let it slide as a favor to a friend. Same friend that he owes.
I’ve been patient while watching the recent boost in cocaine running through the southside, however, the Jameson situation is where I draw the line. Forcing me to make a phone call and change plans.
I’ll pay Thiago the money in exchange for his life.
The oldest son of Marcus Foster is a fuckup. A pompous asshole who thinks he’s invincible, and power should just be given to him.
A mid-level dealer with a death wish.
“Agreed.”
“Was she in the room?” Stretching my neck, I lower the window and spark up another cigarette. The fourth of the night. I’m wound tight, muscles coiling, and nothing seems to calm me. Every cell in my body demands that I break down their door and take her.
Somewhere between the club and her house my thoughts have become clear. The voice inside, that animal I keep under control in front of the world, demands that I save her. Her innocence is titillating, exciting, and also London’s downfall.
Why are they hiding her? That thought is churning within me. Bringing out a side that only the few women in my family ever see: a protector.
Deciding to stay inside the car was a last-minute decision. A hard one.
Tomorrow. But it made the most sense.
I’ll deal my cards then. Twirl will be inside my home, within my protection, and I can control how and when I approach.
Her brother and father are full of envious desires; they’ll be too busy plotting to realize that she’s already met me. That I’ve already taken ownership of the youngest in the family. That they are dead men walking.
Getting her alone won’t be a problem.
“She was.”
“And…” Taking a deep pull of smoke into my lungs, I hold it for a few seconds before exhaling through my nose.
“His demeanor as he stood over her was possessive.” For some reason, I am not surprised by this. I’ve been expecting this confirmation. Fire flows like lava through my veins as more pieces of this puzzle fall into place, and I have no doubt that my London is looking for an escape. To get away from them.
Question is, though, what do they want her for? How does she play into any of this?
Maybe she knows who I am and is… I stop that thought in its tracks. My Twirl is innocent, of that I have no doubt. Reading people comes with this line of work, and that girl is afraid of the world, not looking to dominate it.
There are two reasons why anyone, of their own free will, sells their body for profit. Desperation, or because you like it. You need the money, or get off on the depravity.
May God have mercy on their souls, because I won’t. I want their blood on my hands, and nothing cements that more than seeing London’s tiny figure standing at a small bedroom window upstairs.
The dim lights surround her like a warm halo. She’s so fucking beautiful, and in that moment, I vow to protect her. Kill every single member of her family if they are the cause of her pain.
“What am I missing here?”
“Not now.”
“Are we leaving?”
“Not now,” I grit out, teeth grinding as London wipes her cheeks. She looks sad—pensive, while looking up into the night sky.
“This is about the girl.” Not a question, and I don’t answer. “Something isn’t quite right in that house, Malcolm. The way they tried to keep her hidden, the fear in her expression…”
“What did Alton say about my invitation?” Twirl moves away from the window, and after a few minutes, all goes dark. Good night, baby.
“They’ll be there.”
“Good.” Nodding, I take the last pull on my cigarette and flick the butt toward the asphalt. “I want a file on London Foster on my desk by ten a.m. Everything on her.”
“Just her?”
“She’s the only one that matters.”
“Sir, your guests just arrived,” my security at the gate announces through the intercom, and my eyes flick to the center screen across from me. I see the car. A shiny and new Mercedes in white that looks nothing like the rusty scrap of metal Toyota my Twirl drives. Mistake number one. “Do I let them pass or…?”
“No search. Open.” I’m not going to scare London.
“As you wish.” The gate opens and they drive up until they reach the roundabout where another member of security waits for them. You can see the looks of envy on the two males, while London looks uncomfortable. The worry is plain to see as it flashes across her delicate features.
I can’t have that. After today, I want this to be where she finds safety.
Closing her folder, I put the information in the top drawer to my left and lock it. I’ve read enough to understand the mystery behind their actions.
What her miserable family fails to realize is that in my world, people talk. They are always willing to sell you out for a profit, something two of Alton’s street pushers were all too eager to do.
My sweet little Twirl is nothing more than a pawn to the two Foster men, and it all stems from a lie. Something her mother took to her grave when she suddenly died four years ago, leaving a sixteen-year-old girl to fend for herself after a robbery gone wrong.
Or so the police report says.
One, to get out of a growing debt, he’s been shopping around her innocence. Tempting the sick fucks he surrounds himself with into desiring the cherry between her thighs for a hefty price.
The other, he wants to dominate—intimidate her into becoming his whore. Alton wants an heir, but not from his fiancée, the submissive idiot that dotes on him because of his make-believe status. That gold-digger isn’t good enough. He wants London. Wants to fuck her while parading the other around town.
Alton believes that London is his. His way into a hefty sum of money that she’ll receive on her twenty-first birthday. A child will bind them together and is leverage in case she rebels.
Neither of these plans will come to fruition. I will never allow it to happen.
Two certificates have been signed, and I am the executioner.
“Malcolm?” Mariah slips inside wearing a huge shit-eating grin. I’m sure Javier has something to do with it. That she knows. “Magda’s attending to them in the parlor, and Javier is standing like a pit bull guarding your package.”
“Don’t be obnoxious.”
“Don’t ruin my fun.”
“You’re lucky that I love you, little cousin. So very lucky.” Pushing my chair back, I make my way around the desk and reach her at the door. “Make friends.” There’s no need for me to elaborate. She understands.
“Got it.” Mariah nods with a smirk. “By the way, she looks sweet.”
“She’s untouchable.”
“Thought as much,” she muses, eyeing my black jeans, plain T-shirt, and boots. “Why aren’t you wearing your typical overpriced suit? I approve of this, by the way.”
“I want her to feel comfortable here.” It’s the truth. The last thing I want is for her to feel intimidated by me.
“Who knew you could be so sweet?” Slipping her arm through mine, she tugs me down the hall and toward the voice of London’s father, who is asking for a whiskey neat as I enter. No one notices me, but I see the dynamic. The men are in suits and sitting with a leg crossed at the knee, arms stretched over the back of the couch—a mimicking pose—while Twirl looks like she wants to disappear within the cushions of her chair.
She looks beautiful; there is no denying this as I stand and watch. However, the expression of distress and the way she tugs at the hem of her knee-length, bright pink bandage dress, tugs at my chest. You can see that she doesn’t want to be here, and while it’s my fault, I’ll also be the one to right every wrong for her.
She’s no longer alone.
My eyes skim down her sweet face and pouty lips to the decadence of her collarbones when I notice a discoloration mars her soft skin. Lower, I find a few more down her arms, and the growl that builds in my chest is unstoppable. It’s loud and full of fury, shaking me where I stand as I catalogue every bruise.
“Don’t scare her. She’s good for you,” Mariah whispers, passing me while making her way toward an equally-as-quiet Javi. His eyes meet mine and I nod, signalling the first move in this game.
“Hey, man. Good to see you again,” Alton says, voice dripping in fake politeness. Hand outstretched for me to shake, he stands, completely ignorant to the nonexistent restraint I’m functioning under. “Thank you for the sudden invitation.”
Taking his hand in mine, I squeeze hard enough to feel a knuckle buckle and dislocate. The pop is subtle, but no one misses his accompanying curse. “It’s Mr. Asher to you, Foster. I won’t correct you again.”
“Understood,” he grits out from between clenched teeth, rubbing his sore hand. “How can we help you, Mr. Asher?”
Fuck, I want to bash his skull in and watch the blood drip from every wall in this room. The carnal desire for retribution ignites within me and I want to feed the monster within.
Because everyone has one. That wicked urge to take matters into your own hands and right the wrongs you’ve been dealt, and while most people ignore that voice, I revel in mine. Need it.
The fingers of my right hand twitch as it lowers to my side, and the cold steel behind my back beckons me to end this bullshit game that he will never win.
And I almost do, until I hear the soft gasp that escapes her, and our eyes meet for a brief second. Her distress is clear to see, and so is the subtle blush that sweeps across the apple of her cheek.
My little Twirl doesn’t know how to react. What to expect.
While her brother and father are looking at the dipshit’s hand, I send her a soft smile. She returns the small gesture and then quickly looks down before anyone sees her.
I remind myself that his moment will come when my Twirl isn’t here to witness. Never in front of her. She’s not ready for my darkness…yet.
“Mr. Foster…” her father begins, standing up beside his son but he doesn’t offer me his hand “…is there a reason for this sudden request? Have we offended you somehow?”
“Marcus, have you ever heard the saying: no bad deed goes unpunished?”
“I-I have.” Marcus swallows hard while his eyes shift toward his son. “But what does it have to do with our being here?”
“Everything.” Looking at Mariah, I hold up a hand. “Please give Miss Foster a walk through the gardens while I have a word with her family.”
“Of course.” Her smile is huge as she gives Javier’s arm a squeeze and then walks toward a still-as-a-statue Twirl. “Let’s leave the boring men to their business while we go grab a treat from Magda’s kitchen. She makes the best double fudge brownies ever.”
I can see that she’s not sure what to do, and I’ll be fucked if she asks for permission from these assholes.
“Go on, London. Enjoy the treat.”
“Lola’s fine, Ash—”
My glare shuts him up, and I also don’t miss her expression of disgust at the nickname. “Did I ask for your opinion on the matter?”
“No.”
“Then I suggest you learn to speak when spoken to.” With that, I look back at Twirl and Mariah. “Enjoy yourselves, girls. This will be a little while.”
“Of course, dear cousin. Take your time.”
And it’s as they walk out of the room that I catch a glimpse of the naughtiness she keeps under lock and key. There’s a small smirk on her lips, a brightness in her eyes as she mouths the words thank you.
I am the sole person in this world she should ever fear, and the only one that will never harm her.
7
THE MOMENT THE LADIES leave, Alton shifts his angry glare my way. I know what he’s going to say, but before the man further embarrasses himself, I walk over to my chair.
The same one that London was occupying a few minutes ago. I take in a deep breath, filling my lungs with her soft floral scent, and it takes everything in me to hold in the groan of pleasure.
There’s a low chuckle that meets my ears a second before Javier takes a seat to my right, but I don’t address his amusement. Instead, I arch a brow at my guest.
Two sit. Two stand.
“Are you waiting for an invitation?”
“How do you know my London?” Marcus asks, not moving to follow directions. He’s fidgety, brow showing a hint of perspiration. Reeks of guilt.
“Sit down.” I’m done with being pleasant. These two fucks need to understand just how vulnerable they are. “If I have to repeat myself, you’ll each walk out with something broken. Understood?”
“Crystal.” Marcus tugs on his son’s uninjured hand to sit across from Javier on the opposite couch. For a few minutes we’re quiet, my eyes on Alton while his grow uncomfortable with each second that passes. Pussies.
I have all the time in the world; my Twirl is safe.
A throat clears, and I shift my gaze to Marcus. “Speak.”
“I’m sorry, but you must understand that as her father, I worry. How do you know London?”
Her father. Her father. Christ, this man is playing with the kind of fire that eviscerates, leaving no trace behind. It would be so easy. A flick of my wrist and two bullets is all it would take to eradicate the world of this filth.
“That’s the wrong question, and we both know that.” Leaning forward, I keep my eyes set on his. Let him see the fury burning behind this calm facade. “The correct one, is what don’t I know?”
“Why are we here?” This time it’s Alton who speaks up.
“Another stupid question.” Standing up, I walk over to my bar and pour myself a few fingers’ worth of gin. I can feel the stares on my back—the tension mounting—and I revel in it.
“Yet you give us no answer.”
A chuckle escapes me, and I take a sip while walking back to my seat, savoring the crisp notes of citrus while the two asswipes squirm.
Another human trait that most cannot control: their nerves. Those ticks that are a part of our genetics—the makeup of our identities that controls reactions.
The shaking of limbs.
The twitch of a jaw.
The bouncing of a leg like the older man before me.
“Congratulations, Alton. You’re as stupid as I thought you were.”
“What the fuc—”
The click of Javier’s gun stops him. “Try again, and be respectful. Do not mistake his generosity with patience.”
“My apologies. No disrespect meant, I’m just...” He takes in a deep breath while shifting in his seat, using the same hand with the dislocated knuckle to push his weight toward me. He’s in pain. Wishing he could retaliate against me—be me—but instead, is once again reminded to know his place.
I nod at Javi and he lowers his weapon. “Carry on.”
“Please understand,” Alton grits out, rubbing his hand, “I’m just concerned for my family. My sister isn’t aware of our family’s dealings, and yesterday’s late-night visit has shaken her. I just want to make sure that everything between us is cool. That—”
