Catching Sin, page 30
Certain truths are just not meant for a parent’s ears.
Morgan Fair Senior believes that his son died bravely and with honor, and that’s all there is to it. It’s what the parent of every soldier who doesn’t return home alive is told. Only in their case it’s true. Jake and I have done this before. Gone to the homes of fallen brothers. Spoken with grieving family members. It’s not something one ever grows accustomed to. In part, I blame myself for Morgan’s death. Conti had never in his life been the one to do the dirty work. He had men for that. He made the calls and gave the orders and they carried them out. Never him.
That’s where I fucked up. Where we all fucked up.
It never occurred to me that he’d kill Morgan. Never. Me? Yeah, I knew he’d want to shoot me. I was baiting him with the one thing he had zero cool for. Isabel. That man’s obsession ran deep. So much deeper than I bet she’s even aware of. Every lock. Every combination. The numbers are always her birthday. He had pictures of her lining the drawers of his desk. Mostly candid ones, taken as she was being watched. Some are posed. Some are of her as a child. Some are of her from the club. We’re talking hundreds of pictures. And that’s not even close to everything.
In a way, she’s lucky he obsessed over her so much. It probably kept her alive and safer than she would have been otherwise.
The News caught wind of this story before the warehouse was even cleaned up, gobbling it up like a fat man on Thanksgiving. We fed them every single line with care and precision. You’d think after two men dying at my hand in ‘self-defense’ there’d be more negative press my way. Questions raised by different local and government bodies. But no. The world was not sad to be rid of Niklas Vaughn once they learned he was a horrible wife beater, and Las Vegas was certainly not sad about losing their most menacing figure. Hell, the mayor called me to thank me personally. Off the record, of course, but still. I’ve practically been given a key to the damn city.
The word on the street is that Conti’s men were staging a coup against Turner Hotels. They had done a series of simultaneous high-level cheats in order to distract all our security forces with the ultimate goal of taking over the security tower and infiltrating our networks and servers. That’s true, and we have plenty of proof to back that up in the form of video and attempted back-door access to our systems.
What’s not true is what the world believes happened in the warehouse.
Morgan, Jake, and I were kidnapped. I was beaten as part of that endeavor. The three of us were threatened at gunpoint by Conti’s thugs. Jake was being blackmailed into signing over Turner Hotels. Morgan was shot and killed to reinforce that threat with the promise that my life was next if Jake didn’t comply. He shot at me and I fired back, killing him. That’s when the Feds walked in, since Jake and I had called them right when we found out there were multiple security infringements going on at the hotels.
Only. . . they’re not really FBI. Luke Walker does work for the government, but it’s some super-secret black ops faction of some unknown organization that no one talks about.
The FBI certainly aren’t about to say that it wasn’t them who took down one of the most notorious mob bosses this country has ever seen. That’s just bad PR for them. They gratefully accepted the evidence they were handed and went from there.
Isabel’s name was never mentioned. I made sure of that. There was no way I was ever going to let her take the fall. That’s all there is folks. Game’s over. Show’s done.
And I’m miserable.
I know I don’t deserve Isabel, but damn, did I want to. Want her. I know I hurt her. I deserve this pain, this penance and misery. I deserve it all, but that doesn’t make it any more palatable. Any easier to swallow. I miss her. I can’t stop thinking about her.
“How long are we going to let him continue to be a sulky bastard?” Jake asks off to my right as he and Fiona obnoxiously share a lounger, all cuddled up together like the annoyingly adorable couple they make.
“Leave him alone,” she says. “His heart is broken.”
“I get that, baby. But it doesn’t have to stay that way.”
I roll my eyes, sinking back further and taking a sip of whatever wine we’re drinking. I’d tell them to shut up or mention the fact that I’m sitting right here and can hear them perfectly, but there really is no point. It wouldn’t stop them.
“Didn’t she tell him she never wants to see him again?”
“Thanks for the reminder, Fi,” I grumble like the surly bastard I am.
“That’s probably my fault,” Gavin jumps in with zero intonation to his tone. “I let her take the gun from me and shoot him instead of doing it myself.” He’s been standing at the edge of the balcony, staring straight out at nothing. I mean, yeah, the Strip is there and the mountains beyond that, but he’s not looking at any of the natural and not-so-natural scenery. He’s working on something. Another job. One that’s getting to him, I think. One he won’t talk about. Gavin isn’t really a man of many words once you get to know him. When he was working Fiona, he was this charming, flirty guy. All smiles and asking her out on dates and pushing the line. But that’s not who he is. He’ll play whatever role he has to play for work, but at his heart, this guy has way more demons than we know about. Than we’ve even come close to scratching the surface on.
Oddly enough, despite his chosen profession, he’s a good man. An honorable man, I guess. At least to some extent. I trust him. Not sure I thought I’d ever trust a contract killer, but there you have it. He’s the one who really got us what we needed with this Conti thing. And we’ve slowly been leaking all the information he got on that bastard. It’s my insurance policy and it’s working like a charm.
“Why did you do that? Let her take the gun?” Fiona asks, and part of me feels like she shouldn’t be sitting here for this. But try telling her that. The truth is, she’s as much a part of our team now as any of us. I just don’t like her being involved more than she has to be.
“Because she was staring into my eyes and I saw it. The recognition. The anger. The hatred. The fear. I saw it all, and I respected how she let me see it. And when Maddox was shot, and she believed him dead, I watched her. I watched her heart break, and then I watched as her resolve for revenge solidified. She’s a force, that girl of yours,” he says with something close to admiration. “Anthony Conti needed to die. But more importantly, he deserved it. And the only one of us who earned the right to end his life was her. Did you know that monster once tied her to a chair in his office when she was sixteen because she let a boy in her class kiss her and accepted a date to a dance with him?” Gavin doesn’t turn around to watch our expressions, because his question is rhetorical.
Obviously, none of us knew that. Jake, Fi and I all exchange disgusted, tormented glances.
“Yeah. The prick made her sit there like that throughout the entire dance and wouldn’t untie her until it was over. Then he slapped her around just to drive the point home that she belonged to him and no one else.”
I take a deep breath, scrubbing my hands up and down my face. I would have shot him in the face had I known that. Maybe beaten him to death instead. Ripped him apart with my bare hands. I wouldn’t have cared about the potential consequences. About the plan we had to take him down the “legal” way. I would have killed that motherfucker first chance and Gavin knew that. It’s why he waited until now to tell us. To tell me.
“She may have claimed she didn’t want him dead,” he continues, “but it didn’t take her long or much of a push to get her to pull that trigger. And it’s not like she pulled it once, saw that she killed him, and broke down into a fit of regretful tears. She emptied my entire magazine. That was pure rage. So, I’m not sure how much that ‘I never want to see you again’ stuff is true. I think she just didn’t like facing that side of herself. The side that reminded her of him, and she blamed you for that.”
“Yeah,” Jake agrees. “She was angry. She was emotional. It takes time to process that.” Jake looks directly at Fiona. “I seem to recall a time when you needed some space to figure your own shit out. And I also remember someone flying all the way to Dallas to get you.”
Yeah. I did that for him. But that was different. “That was different,” I say, vocalizing my thought because it feels like a really valid point for some reason.
“No. It really wasn’t. Shit went down. Shit went wrong and completely unlike the way we planned it. I went nuts for two weeks while Fiona was getting her head on straight and then you brought her to me.”
“Is this my ‘kick Maddox’s ass into action’ intervention? Are you expecting I’ll jump up all rejuvenated and run off into the sunset and win her back? Because I’m thinking that’s not how my situation with her will go.”
“She’s still in Connecticut with her brother,” Gavin says. I already knew that, but I wonder why he’s still tracking her. “She’s going to have to come back soon. Conti’s estate is a deal she’s a part of.”
“What sort of deal? And how the hell do you know all this?”
“It’s my job to know all this. And the deal won’t hurt her or her brother.”
“Do you love her?” Fiona asks, and I can’t roll my eyes at her because she’s Fiona.
“Yes, I love her. Of course, I love her. You already know that because you’re the type of woman who knows things like that long before the rest of us do. It’s why you were all hot to meet her.”
“Does she love you back?”
I sigh, because I think she does. I really do. I think I just fucked up in the worst possible way. Isabel is a hothead and highly excitable and dramatic in the way most teenagers are. “She’s a teenager,” I say, once again giving voice to my idiotic thought process.
Fiona laughs hard. “I was eighteen when I married Niklas.”
“That’s different. And that was sick, so you’re not really selling me on the age-difference thing.”
She rolls her eyes at me, and I wonder why she can do that to me, but I can’t do that to her. She shifts deeper into Jake’s chest. “I was twenty-two when I met and fell in love with Jake. Barely twenty-three when I married him. He’s older than me and none of that crap matters. Stop looking for stupid excuses.”
I chuckle. “For once, Fi, couldn’t you say shit? That none of that shit matters?”
“My point is, your arguments are irrelevant. You love her. She loves you. That’s it.”
“He doesn’t think he deserves her.”
I shift in my seat and take a long pull of the wine because it really is very good and worth finishing off before I smash the glass on Jake’s head.
“God, why are men so stupid?”
“It’s in our DNA,” Gavin explains. “And I think this is my cue to leave.” He gives me the bro shake, does the same with Jake, and then kisses Fiona on the forehead. “Later, beautiful. I’ll be in touch soon.” Gavin walks out, and my eyes trail him for a beat.
I know he’s not going far. His job is in Vegas and the one he was helping us with was just that. Him helping. I don’t want the details of his jobs. Not that he’d ever tell me if I asked.
The second Gavin is gone, Fiona stands up and walks the two steps over to my lounger. She’s a tall woman. Probably close to six feet, so even though I’m a big man, I’m slouched down, and I have to raise my head up to find her. Fiona shoves my legs aside so she can sit on the edge of my chair and stare into my eyes. Her intensity has me squirming. It’s almost laughable that this pretty, blonde, Southern belle could make me twitch. Hell, I didn’t so much as break a sweat when dealing with Anthony Conti, but Fiona Foss-Turner? Yeah, this woman is a force to be reckoned with.
“I never thanked you, Maddox.”
I swallow, and she smiles, reaching out her hand and grasping mine. She doesn’t intertwine our fingers. No, that’s what lovers do. Instead she holds me, grips me tight and lets me know she means business.
“You found me lost, homeless, totally and completely broken. I was at my bottom. Mentally at my end, and you helped me find my way back. Find my way to Jake. Find my way to learning how to fight for myself. To having a sense of self-worth and self-respect when I had next to none before. You risked your life for me without hesitation or question, and I know that you’d do it again for me without even batting an eye. You are honest and loyal and smart and funny. But most of all, you’re a good man.”
I swallow past the lump forming in my throat. This woman is stripping me bare. Fiona inches closer to me, her other hand dropping to my chest, directly above my pounding heart. She smiles when she feels it, her eyes welling up. My instinct is to get up and leave. To push her away. I’d never do that to her, but I do not want to hear whatever she’s about to say.
“Fi—”
She shakes her head, instantly stopping my objection. “No. I’m your friend. This is what friends do for each other. We help each other when we need helping the most. And we kick some sense into each other when we need it the most.”
I glance over at Jake, looking for some help, but he doesn’t give me the I-can’t-stop-her helpless husband shrug. No. He’s right in line with her and that takes this to a whole other level.
Fiona cups my cheek and drags me back, so my full attention is on her. “We make mistakes, Maddox. We are human. It’s what we do. God.” She laughs half-heartedly, a sad smile etched on her pretty face. “I’ve made so many mistakes in my life. There are a million things I wish I could take back or undo or change. But we can’t. All we can do is move forward, learn, and adapt, and grow, and accept. You have to accept that there are things in this world you cannot change. Giving up doesn’t make them go away or reverse time. And making a mistake does not make you unworthy of good things.” Fiona leans forward, her forehead dropping to mine as she closes her eyes. I close mine, too, sucking in a deep breath and holding it still in my chest as I allow her words to eviscerate and rebuild me. “You deserve Isabel, Maddox. But more importantly, she deserves you.”
“Fi—” I try again.
“No, Maddox. It’s time you start fighting for yourself instead of everyone else.”
She gently presses her lips to mine before standing up and wiping at her wet eyes. She lets out a small laugh, but it’s not the self-conscious sort. It’s the sort that makes you feel fearless. Whole. I chance a glance back over to my friend. He’s beaming up at his woman with unflappable adoration. Jake reaches a hand out for her and she happily slinks back to the comfort and love of his embrace.
We’re quiet. Lost. That is, until Jake asks, “Is he still here?”
“Fucker,” I bark, but laugh all the same. So do Jake and Fiona, because someone had to cut the intensity before it ate all of us alive. “She’s gone,” I tell them. “She left town over a week ago and hasn’t come back. I’m not sure I should go after her,” I admit. “How do I ask her to come back to Vegas? This town has never done anything right by her.”
I’d give Isabel the world. Everything she’s ever wanted and dreamed of. College. Travel. Using those languages she pushed herself to learn. I’d never hold her back. I’d never restrain her. I’d let her set her wings free and follow her wherever they took us.
“Maybe not,” Jake answers. “But don’t you think that should be her decision and not yours?”
Thirty-Four
ISABEL
* * *
Maddox has called me a total of five times since that day in the warehouse. I wouldn’t say I’m avoiding him. He just always happens to call at a time when I either miss his call or can’t pick up my phone. And I haven’t called him back because I’m not sure I’m ready to. I miss him, of course. Like mad. Like the sea when it’s angry and turbulent and a storm is about to break.
But this time with Justin? This time on my own? This time with no rules to follow or anxious tingling up my spine or fear twisting up my gut? It’s sorta priceless. I know I have to do something soon. I’m going to have to make a decision because I’m going to need money. That old necessity.
This interlude won’t last much longer, especially since I’ve been dodging Conti’s lawyers as well.
What they want from me is anyone’s guess, but I’m afraid to speak to them. Maybe more than I’m afraid to speak to Maddox. I just left Justin at his school. He’s got a full day of classes today, so I’m officially left to my own devices. The campus is beautiful here. It snowed a little last night, coating the ground in a few inches of pristine white powder. I’ll admit it, the snow made me giddy. The sky is still overcast and gray, and the air is cool but not unbearable. I had to buy a winter coat. The coat I had for Vegas was most definitely not cutting it in Connecticut.
Strolling along the mostly clear path that leads back toward the parking lot, I hit play on the voicemail and listen. “Miss Bogart. This is Jerome Flores from Flores, Locke, and Chase. It is urgent that I speak with you regarding Anthony Conti’s estate. Please call me back as soon as you receive this message. Thank you.”
“Crap,” I mutter, staring down at my phone like it will magically have all the answers I need written on it.
“You, too?” a voice says, startling me out of my reverie. I whip my head up at light speed to find Maddox standing in front of a Jeep—of course, it’s a Jeep—all bundled up in a light gray wool jacket and a black beanie. His pale blue eyes appear even bluer against the dingy sky. He hasn’t shaved in what looks like a few days, and that layer of stubble is doing things to me that I wish it wasn’t. Wow. Rough and rugged Maddox is a work of art. “Why do girls always say crap instead of shit?”
I shake my head at him but refuse to smile. “Probably because I’m standing on the grounds of a high school.”
He considers this. “I suppose that makes sense, and I suppose it means I should curtail my foul language.”
“What are you doing here? How did you know this is where Justin went to school?” I can’t decide which question I want him to answer first. I don’t like the idea of him still stalking my phone. But I love the idea of him finding me anyway.
