The Deadliest Sin Series Complete Collection, page 106
He tosses his plastic fork onto the uneaten food and scowls. His continued silence tells me I can push however hard I need to. This man may be ruthless with his enemies. He may kill whoever gets in his way, but if he was going to hurt me, it would have been done a long time ago.
Something has shaken him since we last spoke. Something has him on edge. “Did you find out who is trying to kill you? “
“Who said anyone is trying to kill me?”
I bark out a laugh. “Someone shot you, and then someone came to your place of business and tried to do it again. To me, that kind of screams that somebody wants you dead.”
He narrows his eyes on me. “Just what did I say to you back there?”
I shove another bite of my food into my mouth and chew slowly as a way to try to buy some time for my answer.
“I'm serious, Nicki. I need you to tell me. First, because I need to know what you know. But second, because I might have said something then that I don't remember now. It could be important.”
He's right, of course.
People often say things when they’re unconscious or semi-conscious that they don't remember afterward, and closer to the event, his memory was likely to be better about details that could help him now.
But do I really want to help him?
Shit.
“You were mumbling about a church, about Felipe and Rowan. You said a few other names. I got the impression there was some sort of meeting of important crime families that was attacked.”
He nods slowly. “Yes. What else did I say?”
I shrug. “Not a whole lot. Something about Felipe and someone named Rose. I didn't quite follow all of it. But it sounded like whatever was going on before you got shot was important.”
“Did I say anything else?” He tenses while he waits for my answer. “Please, Nicki, tell me.”
Please.
That’s one word I never expected to hear coming from his mouth.
“No.”
It's a lie. One I hope he's going to buy.
He presses his mouth into a firm line. “I guess it isn't as bad as I thought.”
I set down my fork and turn to face him fully. “I'm not going to say anything to anyone. Really. I swear to God, I'm not. The last thing I want is to get pulled into some sort of mob war.”
“Who said anything about a mob war?”
All I can do is offer another shrug. “It seems pretty obvious, given your profession, that this has something to do with your business dealings.”
“You should stay out of it. You're better off not knowing anything.”
“I don't know anything. Remember?” I wink at him.
The tiniest of smiles twitches at the corner of his lips. “Right, but even if you don't know anything, that doesn't mean other people know that or will think that. If anyone's spotted you with me, if anyone saw my men take you, you could be a target.”
“And what if they didn't? I'm supposed to live forever in hiding because someone may or may not have connected me to you? A connection that doesn’t really exist.”
A muscle in his jaw tics as he contemplates my question, but a sharp knock on the door draws his attention that way. “That should be Luke with our clothes and a few other things. Stay here.”
He points to the table, and I hold up my hands.
“Where the fuck else am I going to go?”
Mumbling something to himself again, he pushes away from the table slowly and his face tightens, apparently pained by the simple action.
“You're sure you're okay?”
He grits his teeth. “I'm grand.”
Something tells me he's anything but.
GALEN
The room spins around me, dipping and rolling like I'm on some horrific carnival ride and can't get off. But I refuse to let Nicki see me any more off my game than she already has. She’s the type of woman who will walk all over a weak man, who would take advantage of a situation. The only reason she didn’t try to get away when we fled the bar or from here is because she knows I have a gun and that I’d just send my men after her again and drag her back here with even less care than before.
I force myself to keep walking forward on unsteady feet.
Don't stumble, don't stumble.
A sigh of relief slips from between my lips when I finally place my hand on the door, giving myself something to lean against for a brief moment I hope Nicki doesn’t catch. I unlock and open the door for Luke, who steps in, carrying handfuls of bags.
“I grabbed a bunch of stuff for you and for her, and I can always go back out if you need something else.” Luke glances toward the kitchen table, where Nicki stares us down intently.
She doesn't even bother to look away. Doesn't bother to pretend she's not trying to hear every single word we exchange.
He leans into me. “You and I need to talk in private.”
I incline my head toward him and point to her. “Give her the bags with her shit.”
He nods and walks over to the table, and I fall behind slowly. If I try to move at his pace, I'll end up flat on these beautiful wood floors.
Nicki looks at me with a furrowed brow.
“Your clothes are in the bag.” I point toward the bedroom off the living room, the only bedroom on this floor and where I put her so I can keep an eye on her. “Go get changed and stay in there until I tell you to come out.”
Her jaw drops, and she points to her half-eaten food. “I'm not done.”
“Yes, you are.”
She pops to her feet, hands at her hips. “I was definitely right about the Napoleon Complex.”
With that, she snatches the bag from Luke's hand aggressively and stomps back to the room like a petulant child. I release a heavy sigh and slowly lower myself down into the chair in front of my uneaten meal.
The door slams, assuring me that we're alone. I release a heavy sigh and lean back as far as I dare. “What do you have for me?”
He slides into the chair she just vacated, setting the rest of the bags on the table. “Colin and Shane didn't make it out of the bar.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah. I took out two of the guys who came in, though, and I was able to snap a few photographs before I left out the window after you guys. I would have gotten more but didn't want to stay around for when the police got there.”
“I don't fucking blame you.”
He pulls out his phone and flips it toward me with a photo on it. “Guy number one.” He scrolls to the side. “Guy number two.”
“You recognize either of them?”
He shakes his head. “No, but check out the tattoo.” He zooms in on the neck of one of the two men, the familiar symbol tightening a knot in my empty stomach.
I drop back in the chair. “Fuck.”
“Yep.”
“So, they know it was us who hit them the other night.”
“Apparently…” He offers a half shrug and slides his phone back into his pocket. “Considering how they were muscling in on our gun sales, it shouldn’t have been hard for them to figure it the fuck out.”
“Do you think they're the ones who hit the church, too?”
It’s possible they were watching the bar and followed me to the meet, but if I was the target, it doesn’t make any sense that they wouldn’t have just taken me out on the drive over there or when I got out of the car and walked into the church.
“I don't know, sir.”
I motion toward the television. “I saw them interview Lopez, and he was pretty tight-lipped about everything. I'm not so sure we're going to find out much that route.”
“Did you talk to Valerian?”
“Yes. And he didn't have much, either. Said he was going to have his guys do some digging. There's no word from the cartel or Cutter?”
He shakes his head. “No.”
“Shit. It’s bad enough we have one very well-armed group gunning for us, but now there's also another mystery one that hit the church.”
“You don't think it was them?”
As much as I wish I could say I did, I shake my head. “The guys at the church were using AK-74s. Old Soviet stock that isn't exactly our other friends’ typical weapon.”
He nods slowly. “You're right. They're much more into ARS or pistols. They hit the bar with nothing but handguns.”
“Exactly.”
“You said Soviet stock…Valerian?”
I squeeze my fist on the top of the table. “The thought had crossed my mind, but when I brought it up to him, he was adamant that he wasn't involved.”
“Do you believe him?”
“I don't have much of a choice at this point. He's the only ally I have.”
“What about Felipe?”
“What about him?”
“Well, he's with your sister, isn't he?”
“Yeah.”
“So, does that make him an ally or not?”
I pinch my eyes and try to force the room to stop spinning. “The fuck if I know. Rowan seemed to have diffused the situation between Felipe and his brother, and it sounded like they were going to try to work together, but that doesn’t clarify anything as far as my relationship with the Blood Rose Cartel goes. As far as I'm concerned, everyone is an enemy right now. You got it?”
“Got it, sir.”
“You keep digging. See what you can find out. I need to know who made it out of that church alive, what the damage was, and any information on the shooters. Got it?”
“I got it.”
He pushes to his feet as the door to the bedroom opens, and Nicki strolls out wearing a pair of jeans that are practically painted on her hourglass frame and a T-shirt pulled tightly across her breasts.
“Didn't I tell you to stay in there?”
She scowls at me, and Luke looks at me with a raised eyebrow.
“Want me to secure her in there?”
Shit.
With anyone else, the answer would have been hell, yes, but with her, trying to physically restrain her is only going to make matters worse.
I wave him off. “No, it's grand. Go.”
He nods and makes his way out the front door, letting it close behind him with a sharp click. I use my good hand to push up from the table and slowly walk over to the front door to slide the lock into place.
“Are you all right?” Nicki’s question floats toward me from across the room, her words laced with something other than venom for the first time.
I turn back to face her. “I’m grand. Are you gonna keep asking me that?”
She raises a blond brow. “I will as long as you're white as a fucking sheet. You look like you're about to pass out.”
“Fuck…” I glance down at the button-down black shirt someone managed to put on me while I was unconscious earlier. “I need to change.”
I make my way over to the table and pull open one of the bags until I find the one with men's clothes. Nicki hovers on the other edge of the table, watching me intently.
This woman's gaze is unnerving, like an X-ray straight to your soul, aimed at you all the time. She doesn't accept anything I say at face value. She questions everything and argues about anything she can.
I slowly start unbuttoning my shirt, which is a lot more difficult with only one hand than I possibly could have imagined.
The two sides of the material finally fall open, and Nicki gasps.
“Oh, my God, Galen. Why didn't you tell me?”
NICKI
Blood covers his left side and trickles down his torso, bright red and angry.
How long has he been bleeding?
Likely since we made our escape from the bar, which means hours and hours.
I glance at the chair he was sitting in, and from this angle, I can see the smears of something wet against the back, even on the black surface of the wood.
Hell…
I rush around the table, pull off the sling, and push the shirt off his shoulders. He flinches with the movement of his bad arm, but it’s a necessary evil.
“I'm grand. Just a couple of loose stitches.”
Grand?
The man truly is insane. This is anything but grand. He’s a complete mess.
I step around to his back to find almost all of the sutures I put in back at the bar have been ripped open.
“Oh, yeah, sure, it's nothing,” I growl at him. “Look, Galen. I don't even know what the fuck I'm doing. I'm not a nurse. I never learned how to do stitches properly. I can take someone's pulse. I can do CPR. I can start an IV. I can do basic things to stop bleeding until I get somebody to the hospital. But this”—I wave a hand over his back and his arm—"this was all me just working on a wing and a fucking prayer. You need to see a doctor. A real one. Or at the very least, the vet.”
“We still can't get a hold of him. You’re it, a chuisle.” He offers me a smirk. “Whether you like it or not.”
“Don't call me that.” I don’t even know what he said, but I know I don’t like the way it makes my entire body vibrate with anticipation.
His eyes darken to an almost forest green, and he takes a step closer to me. “Oh, yeah. Why? Because you like it?”
I scowl at him and try my best not to fidget under his assessing gaze. “No, I definitely don't like it.”
He snorts and shakes his head. “Yeah, okay.”
“Come on.” I motion toward one of the kitchen chairs. “Sit.”
Surprisingly, he moves without comment and slowly lowers himself into the chair. He points toward the sink. “There's a first-aid kit under the sink somewhere. Or at least there should be.”
“You need a hell of a lot more than a first-aid kit. You need a fucking brain replacement. Because you're insane.”
“You keep saying that…”
I squat under the sink and pull open the cabinet. Miscellaneous boxes and containers crowd the small space, and I shove them around until I find a plastic box that looks like medical supplies.
It will have to do unless we want to wait for one of his minions to run out and grab us what I would really need. But that would mean more time locked up in this space with a shirtless Galen McGinnis. Which would be very dangerous for us both.
I push to my feet. “I know men like you, Galen.” I slowly approach him, keeping my gaze leveled on him. “Men who think they're invincible. Who think nothing can ever touch them. Who are so arrogant that the mere suggestion or thought that something could happen to them sends them into a tirade and drives them away from you.”
Tears swell at the memory, and I blink them away rapidly, refusing to let this man see my weakness even when I’m staring at his blood smeared all over his arm and torso.
“And do you know what always happens to those people?”
He swallows slowly, never looking away, the tension between us so thick, I can barely breathe without choking on it. “What?”
“They all end up having to face their own humanity at some point, to accept the fact that they're mortal. That having a big set of balls doesn't mean you can escape death.”
He raises an eyebrow at me, a smirk on his lips. “You think I have big balls?”
Of course, that’s what he would focus on.
“I wouldn’t know.”
“You didn’t look while I was unconscious?”
“Haha, very funny.” But I’m being serious now, trying to warn the man who will likely take that warning and throw it right out the window along with any morals. “But you know what I’m trying to say, don’t you?”
He nods slowly. “I do. But this is the business. This is the life. I've been shot before. I probably will be again. All I can do is keep moving forward each time.”
I lower myself to my knees in front of him, box of supplies in hand. “If there is a next time.”
He spreads his legs wide for me to shift between them so I can work on his arm, and the bulge in his pants draws my eyes straight toward it. Heat rushes up my neck and across my cheeks. I force myself to look away and at his left arm and swallow through my dry throat.
“I'm going to clean this up and re-suture it, then take a look at your shoulder. It seems like most of the blood is coming from here, though. The bullet may have nicked an artery, Galen.” I take the rubbing alcohol onto a cotton pad and clean the blood from all around the wound. “If it did, it doesn't matter how well I stitched you up. You could still be bleeding internally.”
“Nicki…” The deep, gravelly sound of his voice draws my attention away from his arm and up to his face, which is only a few inches away from mine.
“What?”
“Do you think I didn't see that?” He leans a fraction of an inch closer. “Did you think your blethering would make me forget?”
Now it’s my turn to swallow thickly. “See what?”
He reaches out with his good hand and tucks a strand of my hair back behind my ear. “See the way you were checking out my crotch?”
“Medical interest only. Checking to see if my big balls assessment was correct.”
He snorts and shakes his head, humor dancing in his eyes. For a man with such a hard and brutal job, he truly does seem to have a sense of humor.
I reach into the medical kit and pull out the sutures and needle. My hands shake violently as I try to thread it.
Dammit, Nicki, get your shit together.
Letting a man affect me like this—especially a man like Galen in a situation like this—is the absolute last thing I need when I’m trying to start a new life here. I just need to get him stitched up and figure out a way to convince him to let me go.
Easier said than done.
I suck in a deep breath, but all it does is draw Galen’s scent into my lungs—whiskey, a light hint of smoke, and something else deeply masculine that makes something tighten low in my belly and between my legs.
Shit.
He leans in until his lips practically brush my ear. “And?”
I clear my throat. “And what?”
“And did they meet your assessment?”
I turn my head until I’m directly facing him, our lips mere inches from each other. His warm breath flutters over my face, the scent of whiskey there that he must have drunk while I was in that room earlier.
