The Deadliest Sin Series Complete Collection, page 78
I shake my head. “I'm talking hypothetically. In the future, I want to know that not only do we have a truce but that there's an understanding that what benefits you also benefits me and vice versa.”
“An interesting concept. A partnership without one?”
“If that’s how you want to put it.”
Her lips twist as she contemplates my request. “It's something to consider, Mr. Rose. In the meantime, I’ll let Cutter show you to your accommodations.”
“You’re not letting me go?”
She snorts and shakes her head. “How stupid do you think I am, Mr. Rose? Until whatever this is gets settled, you're not going anywhere. Even almost naked, you’re the type of man who would stab someone in the back just to watch them bleed and enjoy their pain. So, I think I'll wait and sit on this for a while.”
The sadistic woman is relishing in this—having me at such a disadvantage. I never realized how much like Kat she really is. That woman I gave my heart to threw me to the wolves, not only without any weapons but with literally nothing protecting my wounded body.
Now, she’s assaulted my pride. That was a huge mistake on her part. She better pray Valentina decides to kill me rather than accept my offer. Because once I’m out of here, I’m coming for Kat.
ROSE
I take stock of the tiny room, letting my gaze bounce from the small bed pushed against the wall to the rest of the barren, depressing space. It doesn’t take long since it isn't even a bedroom, really, likely a closet someone shoved a bed and nothing else into at some point for a very specific reason. Since it’s in the cold, unfinished basement of this mansion, it likely has been used for exactly this purpose—containing someone they don’t want anyone else hearing or seeing.
It’s a torture chamber, for lack of a better term. And while I don’t see blood stains or other evidence of direct violence, I have no doubt it’s occurred down here in the basement. Cutter’s skills in that department are somewhat legendary. Any thought of escaping from here can go right out the proverbial window since there isn’t a real one.
Not that I would have the energy or strength to do that if it were a possibility. Even taking the stairs down here left me hurting and breathing heavily. The last few days have utterly destroyed me in every way imaginable physically. Add in the emotional weight of what’s happened, the way Kat’s treachery decimated everything I thought I knew, and I’m dead on my cut, sore feet.
The frigid temperatures down here won’t help me feel any better, either. It’s a bit sadistic. But maybe the chilly air is part of the plan in this room—to leave its occupant shaking and cold to mentally break them down. It’s a tried-and-true form of torture for many but not anything I’ve ever attempted before. I prefer things dirtier and more direct. Using my fists and anything else at my disposal to make whoever crossed me suffer to the utmost degree. If blood isn’t spilled, I’m not doing my job. Apparently, Cutter and Valentina have a more varied approach, and I’d much rather be on the other side of determining whether this form works or not.
Raising an eyebrow, I turn back to Cutter, the chill of the room causing a shiver to run along my exposed spine. “Really? You're not even going to give me any clothes?”
Cutter's sunglass-covered gaze drifts over my bandaged arm, down to the wound on my leg, then briefly over my cock encased in my boxers. “Why? You cold?”
And I guess we’re back to comparing dick sizes.
Under other circumstances, I would drop trou and prove to him that he has nothing to make fun of, but as it stands, I don’t feel like exposing myself anymore to these people.
Instead, I cast a glare in Cutter’s direction that demonstrates my annoyance with his comment and the entire situation. “In case you hadn't noticed, amigo, I kind of had the shit beaten out of me quite recently and was shot. If you’re going to keep me here against my will, the least you can do for someone your partner is hoping to stay friends with is give me some fucking clothes so I don't freeze to death in this dungeon.”
“Dungeon?” Cutter snorts and shakes his head but motions to somebody in the hall. He turns back and chucks a pile of clothing at me.
It hits the ground before I can catch it, my reflexes clearly affected far more by what’s happened the last week than I realized. If I had tried to break free from my captors at any time during this nonsense, I likely wouldn’t have gotten more than a few feet.
“There you go.” Cutter plasters on a fake smile and sweeps out his arm. “Enjoy your stay.”
Smug fucker.
Acting like this is The Four Seasons isn’t doing anything to improve my mood or my opinion of him or Valentina. “How long are you planning to keep me here?”
He leans against the jamb and examines his cuticles, apparently unconcerned with the fact that he’s about to lock me in this tomb. “However long it takes Valentina to decide what to do with you.”
I bend over to grab the clothes from the ground and bite back a groan. This “feeling like shit” thing is getting old. “Well, tell her the longer I stay here, the less friendly I’m going to be.”
As it stands, I haven’t decided what I’ll do with Valentina when I finally breathe fresh air again. Part of me sees the wisdom in her suggestion to establish a truce, but the bigger part wants to ensure I have solid ground to fight from when Felipe finally makes his move. I need the resources I can only pay for with the money being brought in from Valentina’s territory. Weakening myself more, even to ostensibly gain her cooperation, goes against every instinct I have. And instincts are what have kept me alive for this long. Though, they’ve apparently failed me where Kat is concerned.
Cutter chuckles and pushes off the jamb. “I'll relay the message.”
He closes the solid door, and the lock engages with a heavy, foreboding click that seems to reverberate around the tiny, windowless room.
I drop the clothes onto the bed and scrub my hands over my face, rubbing at my tired eyes.
Was it really only hours ago that Kat showed up in my room and fucked me like there was no tomorrow?
Maybe that was because she knew there wasn't one for us. Maybe she knew all along what Valentina would ask of her. Maybe Kat always planned to betray me regardless and this was just an opportunity for her to do now that she has Jet back while also appeasing Valentina and further cementing their relationship.
“Fuck!” The frustration building through me finally reaches the breaking point where I can no longer contain it, and I whirl and punch my fist into the wall. The drywall crumbles, and agony shoots through my hand and up my arm, but it doesn’t even faze me at this point, not after everything that’s happened. In fact, I almost welcome it, striking the wall again and again and again.
If I’m feeling pain, I’m still alive. And as long as I’m alive, there’s an opportunity for revenge against those who hurt me the most.
How could I have been so stupid?
I let her in. Trusted her with literally everything—the ugly truth of who and what I am, the one that can destroy me now that it’s in her hands.
I’m a fucking idiot.
The kind of idiot I promised myself I would never be over una puta. The kind I truly thought I never could be. Not until I met Kat and let her get under my skin, let her convince me she was truly my equal.
But that ends today. Right. Now.
I'm sure it didn't escape Valentina's notice that I asked for her to back me in the future—not us, as in Kat and me. As far as I'm concerned, there is no us anymore. Not when I gave her everything and she threw it back in my face without an ounce of regret.
I shake out my hand, grab the white T-shirt off the bed, and slide it on, gritting my teeth. Pulling on the sweatpants brings the same result. The pain in my shoulder every time I move it and my leg with each step I take are constant reminders of what I went through for her—for them. But what she did to me hurts far more than what Valerian did or ever could.
Our Lord and Savior may have said to turn the other cheek, but I was always far more drawn to the Old Testament ways during my time in the Church.
An eye for an eye…
That’s a lot more my style. Though, I don’t have any idea what could compare to what Kat did. She couldn't have done anything worse or driven the knife into my back any deeper—short of siding with Felipe.
And I wouldn't put even that past her.
KAT
The heavy, old wooden door creeks open ominously, and I step through it, my heels clicking against the marble underfoot. A shiver rolls through me, and a sense of dread settles on my shoulders the farther I move inside.
Was this place so menacing the last time I was here?
It certainly didn’t seem so at the time. But things have changed so dramatically since then, even though not all that much time has passed. This time, my unease isn’t caused by the unknown nature of my mysterious meeting or the watchful, judgmental eyes of Christ on the crucifix hanging above the altar. It's knowing what I have to do—the next step in my plan. The reason I came back to this place.
So many things have gone so damn wrong over the last few weeks. It almost seems as though God is finally punishing me for what I’ve done. Like He’s setting me up to take the ultimate fall and atone for my sins. Perhaps I should have lit more candles the last time I set foot in this church. Maybe I should have taken the sense of foreboding I felt then as a sign of what was to come and tried to stop it. But it’s too late to stop the runaway train barreling down on me now.
Things have been building to this since the day I set foot in Albania—pregnant, alone, scared. That’s why leaving Jet at Kat’s Cradle with the girls to come here was one the hardest things I've ever had to do. Almost harder than leaving him in Albania in the first place. Because at that point, I was resolved with the decision. I was prepared to leave him. He was going to have a better life. One free from this death and destruction. Away from the lies and backstabbing and deceit that rule this world. I knew then that it was the best thing for him. The only way. So, it was easier to walk away then than it was to drop him off today after I fled Rose’s place.
Because now, that innocent baby is here, twisted up in this game we’re all playing to establish our supremacy in a city that seems to want to fight me every step of the way. Now he’s the target of both Valentina and Felipe, and I have no way of knowing what they might do if they get their hands on him or how else they will try to twist me to do their bidding and use him as leverage. Valentina has already used that power with a catastrophic effect.
It makes walking into this church feel like walking into the lion’s den completely unarmed and unprepared. All I have is the resolve in my heart and mind to accomplish this necessary task.
I hope that’s enough to survive this meeting…
The ominous, heavy silence of church midday weighs on me. I had anticipated someone being here—parishioners or maybe an employee or two. Instead, the sound of my heels echoes into the cavernous ceiling, following me deeper inside.
I cross in front of the altar, averting my gaze from the crucifix because I can't bear that kind of judgment right now on top of everything else. If I looked up and met those glazed, all-knowing eyes staring down at me, I might turn right around and head back out. That resolve I’ve been holding onto so tightly might not survive that.
Pushing ahead, I reach the hallway that leads back toward the door Felipe came from the night Genti and I were here.
Things were so different then. Jet was still hidden safely away with a loving family. My plans here were in motion and moving along nicely. I still had Rose at arm’s length. Even though I had finally given in to my lust for the man, I had managed to keep up the wall behind which I kept all the pain and truth about Jet.
But that wall came crumbling down as soon as he revealed the truth about Felipe. And it left me with only one choice I could make. One thing I could do to protect Jet and ensure both of our futures. What I came today to do.
I suck in a deep breath and march toward my fate.
A door opens just ahead of me on the left, and a familiar redhead steps from it and turns back to lock it behind her. I personally interview and hire every girl who works for Kat’s Cradle, so I would know Rowan anywhere. But this is the last place I would expect to find her hiding out. When Felipe said she was somewhere safe, I never thought that meant here, mere feet from where I sat with him on that bench during our first “chat,” before I knew who and what he really was. If he’s been keeping her this close, she must really be important. Though, any reason for that has remained elusive despite Arden’s digging.
I freeze, halting my steps, unsure whether I should grab her so she can’t run or approach carefully so she doesn’t bolt. “Rowan?”
She jerks and whirls toward me, her green eyes wide. “Kat…wh-what are you doing here?”
The fear in her eyes has me narrowing mine. In the over six months Rowan worked for me, we always had a very good relationship—at least, as good as an employer can have with an employee. Her reaction now is far from the friendly one I used to get from her. Though she was always a bit quiet and unwilling to discuss much of anything personal, I never saw it as anything other than her trying to keep her professional life completely separate. That isn’t something I could begrudge any of the girls. But now, it seems like I may have missed something major happening that created this change in her—that made her quit and run to Felipe.
“I came to see the good father.” The words burn on my tongue, knowing what a lie they are. “What are you doing here? We’ve been looking for you.”
Arden has been waiting for her to turn her phone back on to try to track her ever since she left Kat’s Cradle with Felipe. And now that I’ve found her, I have questions that need answers.
“I know. I…” She glances toward the closed door at the end of the hallway. “I shouldn’t be talking to you.”
Shouldn’t be talking to me?
“What?” I take a step toward her. “Why not?”
“I'm sorry. I have to go.” She rushes past me down the hall toward the main portion of the church before I can make a move to stop her.
While a part of me longs to chase after her to try to find out how she got entangled in this mess with Felipe and what his interest in her really is, I have bigger things to worry about right now—like the man behind that door.
Whatever he wants with Rowan, the truth will surface soon enough. It always does, no matter how hard you try to hide it beneath layers of lies.
I reach the end of the hall and raise my hand to the door. It takes me a few seconds to build up enough courage to actually follow through. My knock bounces off the marble and high ceilings, heavy and dark.
“Come in.” His voice sends another chill through me.
Exactly like his brother’s…
Bile burns the back of my throat, but there isn’t any time to think about Rose or what I’ve done. I have to leave that behind me and only look to the future. So, I swallow it down and release a deep sigh before I push open the door and step in to seal my fate.
KAT
“Well, well, well, look what the Kat dragged in.” Felipe offers me a smooth, friendly smile and leans back in his chair behind his desk, his hands cradling his head. Unlike when his brother speaks, his words carry a genuine lightness and welcoming tone—one I can see working on anyone who might walk in off the street seeking solace or advice from the parish priest. He offers a tiny shrug. “Sorry about the pun, but I couldn't resist.”
I scowl at him. There isn't any use hiding my annoyance at his little joke even though he appears open and non-threatening at the moment. Now that I know the truth, I can see the plastic fakeness in everything he says and every smile he offers. It’s in his eyes—a warmth touched by ice. His lips—curled in a way that is almost too perfect. Too practiced.
How was I so blind to it before?
One of his dark eyebrows rises when I don’t respond. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Ms. Gashi. I didn’t expect to see you back here after our last conversation.”
I close the door behind me and move to sit in one of the chairs facing him. “I thought it was time you and I have another little chat.”
He grins at me, genuine amusement dancing in his eyes. It’s easy to see why his parishioners love him and trust him to lead the flock. Years of practice mean the man has perfected his act. It even fooled me.
“Did you decide to take me up on my offer and come for confession?”
My eyes automatically drift to the white collar at his neck, which now seems to glow like a beacon of warning against the black shirt. “Something like that.”
He leans forward and rests his forearms on his desk, the tattoos visible with the sleeves of his shirt rolled up. During our first meeting, I didn’t pay much attention to them, but now, I can’t seem to look away.
Depictions of the devil and an angel war on his opposing forearms, lightning strikes and flashes of ethereal power blazing around them. If he put them next to each other, it would appear the two were about to land blows. Moving up, other images and words blend into the sleeves. Some unfamiliar. But I linger on one word that stands out against the rest—familia.
Talk about ironic.
Family appears to be the least important thing to this man. How else could he kill his own parents? Doom his brother to a decade in prison and a lifetime under his thumb, living in this world he had no desire to be a part of?
I force myself to meet his inquisitive gaze and try to remain impassive, even knowing what I do about him. Those familiar eyes hold mine in silence for a moment longer than is perhaps polite. Each second they linger, the more positive I am he can see right through me.
Finally, he motions toward me with one hand. “I would ask if you heeded my advice from our last meeting and stayed away from my dear brother, but the rumor is, you two were involved in a little incident at the airport several days ago.”
