Darkest Sin (Las Vegas Sin Book 3), page 14
All around us, people speak in harsh tones, women scream, scattering about, all giving us a wide berth.
But this isn’t the type of establishment that calls the police, now is it?
“Hello, Em,” Sam says smoothly, not the least bit bothered by the fact that I’m about to blow his brains out.
The sound of his voice is like a hot knife straight to the heart. It slices effortlessly through, and I’m helpless to stop it from plunging deeper as his eyes rake me in. He simply smiles, tilts his head to the side as he studies me intently.
“You’re even more beautiful in person than you are in the pictures I’ve been receiving. More beautiful than my memories of you. Just seeing you now,” he shakes his head like he can’t believe it. “I’ve missed you.”
A tear rolls down my cheek before I can stop it. “How dare you,” I whisper on a choked breath. The pain in my heart threatens to tear me in two.
I want to ask him why. Why has he done this to me? Why did he come after me in the first place?
And then it hits me with blinding certainty. He’s known who I was all along. He’s never once called me anything other than Em. Never Emma. Em. As in Emeline. That first night at the club, when I looked up because I felt as though I was being watched, I was.
He’s been after me since the very beginning, but the question is why?
And unfortunately, the dark part of my soul wonders if any of it between us was real. Son of a bitch.
I chamber a bullet, shoving the barrel right between the bastard’s lying eyes.
His smile slips, but unfortunately, he doesn’t look afraid.
“Christ, butterfly,” Gavin mutters dryly, annoyance stuffed into every word as he moves to stand beside me, making sure I can see him. “Is it a redhead thing? One day, you’ll have to think before you go straight for violence.”
“One day, I’ll consider that. But not now. Not today. And feel free to screw off any time now, Gavin. You said you were here to protect me. Clearly, that was all bullshit,” I snap bitterly, not even bothering to spare him a second glance. Fuck these assholes. “I’ll try and accept your apology before I shoot you. But in the meantime, I’m busy waiting on his.”
I press the gun deeper into Sam’s skin, leaving a nice little crease in his forehead. Sam winces, and I smile. There is no limit to the amount of pain I want to inflict on him. A bullet to the head would be too quick.
“And what exactly am I meant to apologize to you for, Em? For saving your life? For protecting you all these years? For keeping my distance when it was the last thing I wanted?”
I stare at him, dumbfounded. “Saving my life?” I screech incredulously, my tone slightly psychotic. “Are you insane? You ruined my life!” I scream, not caring if the whole building hears me. “You killed everyone I’ve ever loved. And now you’ve hired people to finish the job. Well, I’m not gonna let you do it. No more running. No more hiding. It’s you and me now, asshole.”
“Got yourself a real firecracker here?” Kellin moves into my line of sight, an indignant scowl on his face. Well, too bad. That’s the second time he’s underestimated me.
“She’s the one who got the drop on you, Kel. Never seen that one before, mate.”
Mate? Are they all in this together? Is this what they were talking about? English or French? My head swirls with scattered pieces of the coded conversation I can’t make heads or tails of. All I see is what’s in front of me. The cop, the hitman, and the drug dealer. It’s all the makings of a bad joke, only this time, I have no interest in being the punch line.
All I want is vengeance.
Retribution.
To watch him suffer the way he made my family and friends suffer.
Hot anger burns my face as it leaks from my eyes. My insides shatter. So much love. So much loss. “How could you do that to me? How could you do that to them? I never told a soul,” I emphasize.
“Give me the gun, Emma.”
“That’s not my name,” I bark hysterically at Gavin. “If I shoot him, it’s done.”
“No, Em,” Sam says oh so calmly when all I want is to shake him to his very foundation. “It’s not.” His eyes bleed into mine. “Listen closely, love. I am not the one who has been after you. I never touched your family, I swear it. I would never have done that to you.”
I shake my head, my body trembling, and my eyes blurring with more hateful tears. “You’re a goddamn liar. You told me you’d do this to me. Spelled it out explicitly for me.”
“We’re making a scene in a place we should not be making a scene.”
“Oh, is the secret government assassin worried?” I snap at Kellin in Russian, because I may be at my end, emotionally unstable, and crazed out of my mind, but I’m not stupid. His eyes pop open wide, and I realize I’ve hit my mark dead-on–pun intended. I grin a little at that. “The question is, which government?”
“I’ll tell you when you give me the gun,” Kellin promises, but there is no mistaking the threat behind his voice.
“Or I’ll just kill him and let you all sort out the mess.”
“Enough.” Gavin steps into me, his chest pressing against my arm, his mouth dipping to my ear. He invades me, compelling me in a way I wish he weren’t capable of doing. When did this man get under my skin like this? “He’s telling you the truth, butterfly,” Gavin whispers before shifting to catch my eye, oozing sincerity into me. “He’s the one who hired me to protect you. To get the one who’s been after you. Give me the gun. We both know you’re not going to shoot him, otherwise, you would have already done it.”
“Is that a dare?”
“You’re not the killer, here. And neither is he.”
I stare into Gavin’s green eyes, the way they hold me, make me promises I’m terrified he’ll break. “If you’re lying to me…,” I trail off, leaving my threat hanging between us.
“I haven’t lied to you yet. Not when it really mattered.”
“You haven’t told me anything either.”
“Yes, I have. I’ve told you so much. Think of all the things I’ve told you. I’m not lying. If I am, you can shoot me.”
I sigh in defeat, my insides quaking. Gavin could have taken the gun from me. Stuck another in my back. Same with Kellin.
But how can it even be possible?
I guess there is only one way for me to find out.
I hand the gun back to Kellin who pops the chamber before re-holstering it and slipping it inside his jacket without so much as an angry word. At least he’s smart enough to learn when to shut up.
“Tell me,” I demand, staring into Sam’s eyes.
“Not here, love. Not here.”
He’s right. But still…
I rear back and punch Sam in the nose, grinning at the satisfying crunch that accompanies it. Not even caring at how much that hurt my hand. “That’s for lying to me.”
Sam’s face lands in his hands with a grunt, blood pouring from his nose and seeping between his fingers.
It’s not enough.
I step into him and knee him straight in the balls. He doubles over, groaning and cursing under his breath.
He doesn’t dare retaliate. Not this time.
“And that’s for shooting me, you son of a bitch. For that alone, I should have pulled the trigger.”
“I think I like this one,” Kellin laughs.
Sam spits blood on the floor, but I’m done with him. At least for a while.
My mind is too full of everything they just told me, and we haven’t even gotten to the meat of the matter yet.
I spin on my heels, slam my shoulder into Gavin who doesn’t look all that stunned or upset I just attacked his buddy in crime, and head for the exit. No one stops me. Hardly anyone looks at me, but unfortunately, they’re all talking about me. I made a scene in what is likely a place run by the Italian mob.
Not much I can do about that at this point.
And honestly, I’m not sure I care all that much. It’s funny what happens when you start to lose fucks to give. A sense of freedom ensues, but this one, this freedom, comes with a hefty price. The shackles of the man tailing me. The promise of the man who broke my heart. The unknown of the man who is truly after me–if what Sam and Gavin are telling me is true.
Yeah. I think my brave is just about used up for one night.
A woman, decked out like she’s going to a ball and not an underground casino, scowls at me as I pass. I offer her a sheepish grin, saying, “Lover’s quarrel,” to her in Italian, assuming that’s the language she speaks.
“If he really shot you once before, you should have pulled the trigger,” she says back, and I can’t help but laugh. I nod my head in acknowledgment at her, and she throws me a conspiratorial wink.
It takes Gavin less than five steps to catch up to me. He walks wordlessly by my side until we reach the underground, dank pathway we came in. Mercifully Kellin and Sam are not following.
“This was such a fun evening. Thanks so much for bringing me here and letting that bomb drop right on my head.”
“I didn’t know it was going to go down like that.”
“Seems you got deked out twice then tonight, huh? Your boys in blood really should keep you abreast of the situation.”
“Apparently so.”
“Great. I’d really love to go now. Maybe sleep for a hundred years. Maybe kick your ass for not telling me from the start who hired you.” I throw him a sideways glare. “Can we go back to the hotel room? I think I’ve had all the adrenaline my system can bear without stroking out.”
He grabs my hand, stopping me short in the middle of the long corridor. Not exactly a place I’d like to stop for a chat. “You okay?” His hand cups my chin, drawing my gaze up to his. I jerk it free of his grasp. The last thing I need is more men in my life.
“No. I’m really not okay. I’m so not okay that I don’t even know if I’ll ever be okay again. You wanna know why I ran, Gavin?”
“Why?”
“Because running is easy. This?” I pan my arms around the bowels of the building. At the fucked-up situation that’s all around me. “Nothing about this is easy. It’s really freaking hard. And I don’t know what to think or do or how to react. That’s my honesty, and if you ever give me anything less again, I swear, next time I’ll pull the trigger, and I can’t promise the gun won’t be aimed at your head.”
“I suppose I deserve that from you.”
That and a whole lot worse. “Then maybe you should listen to your buddy back there. Maybe you should walk away.”
He steps into me, crowding my personal space, his hand re-clasps my chin as his eyes bounce back and forth between mine. “I think it’s too late for that with me.”
“You have his back, not mine.”
“And your opinion of him might change.”
I snort out a half-hearted, slightly manic laugh. “The man shot me.”
“I can’t blame him for that. I want to shoot you all the damn time.”
He gives me a sly grin. One I’ve never seen on him before. It’s addictive. The sort you return automatically. The sort that resonates low in your belly, filling you with a strange, drunk, giddy feeling. How can I be standing here, looking up at this man and thinking these things about him? A killer. A predator.
A man who I know will leave when this ‘job’ is done and that will be that.
I’ll never see him again.
Men like him aren’t the type I should have in my life.
Then again, once upon a time, I thought Sam was that man. And the truth is, I haven’t even begun to think about him. I’m not even sure how to do that. How to realign the posture of my thoughts.
I’ve been holding onto this hate for years.
Gavin shakes his head, stepping in even closer. “You’re a supreme pain in my ass, and yet I can’t seem to get enough of you.”
“How is that even possible? All I’ve done is call you names and attack you. I smashed a glass into your head.”
His head dips, his tongue running along my bottom lip. Over the small cut he gave me earlier. He nibbles lightly at it, and a zing of irresistible pain jolts through me, pooling in my core. He thrusts his tongue in my mouth without kissing me. It isn’t until his tongue massages mine that I realize what he’s doing. He tastes like me. From after he fingered me earlier and sucked me off them after.
He pulls back, still without a real kiss, and despite that, my mind swirls.
I can’t get attached to him. But there’s something about him that drags me into the darkest places of my mind and holds me willingly there.
“Next time I want your tongue there,” I tell him. “Or this.” I hold his gaze as my hand reaches down, rubbing at his semi-hard cock. He lets out an almost imperceptible grunt from the back of his throat. “You’re hard for me, Gavin.”
“I’ve had the taste of your pussy on my tongue all night. Of course, I’m hard.”
He lets me rub him a couple more times before he shoves my hand away and wraps his around my neck. The action startles me, and I gasp, my eyes widening. He squeezes, almost to the point of cutting off my air completely. I’m forced to take quick, shallow breaths that aren’t nearly enough to satisfy my lungs. My hands clutch at his, trying to pry them off, but to no avail. Fear and adrenaline course through me, and just as I’m ready to fight, he gets right up in my face, relaxing his grip enough for me to know he’s not trying to kill me.
“You don’t do what I do unless blood, pain, and fear turn you on. I’m not a white knight or a misunderstood savior. I am not the man to fuck in an effort to gain your twisted-up vengeance on your ex.” He releases me, stepping away completely. “That’s not part of my job, and I won’t touch you again.”
A rush of air forces its way down into my ravaged lungs. I gasp, coughing and sputtering a few times. Anger burns my skin. “Then what is your job? Why are you here?”
“Do my reasons matter?”
Yes. No. “They shouldn’t, but they do.” People do a lot of things for money. But they also have a point of retreat. A line they’re not willing to cross, even for that payday. I have to imagine Gavin is no different in that, even with his chosen profession. The simple truth is, I need him. I need to know he’ll be there, taking that extra step because there is more to this for him than money.
He considers this, eyeing me harshly. “My reasons are my own. But I won’t let you get hurt. No matter what, that won’t happen.”
Something unreadable passes over his features. A resolve of sorts. Like he was convincing himself of that as much as he was me. I see it now. The division between protector and asset.
He regrets touching me earlier tonight, and simply put, that sucks. Because even if he does, I don’t. I enjoyed the hell out of his touch. And I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted more of it. Even if he walks away. Even if it’s just sex or fucking or screwing or whatever euphemism he likes best.
Even if, at the end of this, I’m alone once again.
I swallow down the sour resin in the back of my throat. I can play it any way I want to, but I’m not that girl. I’ve never been that girl. And things with this man are no different.
One thing is for sure, I need answers. There is so much going on that I haven’t even scratched the surface of yet.
“You have it all wrong,” I tell him. “I don’t want twisted-up vengeance. That’s not enough for me.”
“Then what do you want?”
“I want to burn the world down.”
Sixteen
Emma
* * *
He shows up at midnight. A solid two hours after Gavin and I left that sketch-ass underground casino. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but after a five-year absence, a little more, are the words that spring to mind. Especially if you’re trying to convince someone you didn’t destroy their whole world and the people in it.
He knocks on the door, standing hopelessly alone on the other side. His buddy Kellin is nowhere to be found, and while a large part of me is tempted to slam the heavy, wooden thing in his face, my need for answers wins out over my pride.
Gavin is sitting on his bed, doing something with his phone. He has been doing that since we arrived back at the hotel, and when I glance over my shoulder at him, he seems wholly disinterested that Sam is standing on the other side of our door.
“So much for being invested in my safety,” I yell at him. His lips twitch, but he seems otherwise unfazed.
“It’s my dinner break.”
“At midnight?”
He shrugs. “I didn’t get to eat all I wanted to earlier tonight.”
He peeks up at me, meets my eyes with a look that makes my insides smolder, and then returns right back to his phone. Jesus. My stupid, naturally pale cheeks flame. I thought the whole point of the conversation in the pit-of-despair at the bottom of the kill-or-be-killed club was to dissuade me from wanting him to do dirty things to me.
“I won’t hurt you, Em,” Sam swears with the cadence of a boy scout, because he’s known to be a man of his word. My head swivels back to the asshole at the door. His wholesome, all-American tone mixed with his well-mannered English accent does nothing for me anymore other than make me slightly homicidal.
“Right,” I draw out. “Sorry if I don’t quite take you at your word.” I gesture with my middle finger toward the scar he marred me with. “Past precedence and all.”
His face falls toward the carpet, his hands clasping the rim of the doorway, and for a moment, I stand here stunned. I wasn’t anticipating this type of palpable regret. Of excruciating remorse. It’s not an act. A ruse to break down my rigid resistance. It’s raw, and it’s real, and it’s fully unexpected.
“I didn’t know how to tell you who I was and get you to stay,” he half-whispers, and my heart, the traitorous, ugly wench, skips a beat. “The man I shot. The man you saw me shoot. He was there for you. Not me.”
Sam raises his eyes and finds mine wide. Finds my breath stalled in my chest, unable to be expelled. “Why? Why would someone be after me?”
