Heartless Sinner (Empire of Sinners #5)

Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Scarlett

My wrists are bound above my head with manacles so tight my circulation has been cut off, and my shoulders and fingers don’t feel like they belong to me anymore.

The guy who looked similar to Micah— Brahm , I think his name was—chained me to the wall and locked me in this room for what has felt like eons.

Time has passed like molasses, marked only by the steady flow of rain running down the stained-glass window in the arched alcove across from me.

Although a dim light hangs above my head, that part of the room is barely visible, and it has the same ominous vibe as upstairs with its pretense to be something it’s not.

How funny. That sounds just like me.

Over the last few days, I’ve taken acting to a whole new level, so maybe it’s fitting that I’m here.

I think I may die here.

I can’t imagine anything else coming from this disastrous situation. Dad and I are being held captive God knows where by a man I thought was my escape from reality.

How in the hell could a man I meet at a bar and spend the night with turn out to be the man I was supposed to steal from?

Fate is so fucking cruel to me. It’s never been kind. Even in those twisted ways people talk about when strange things happen to them that work out for the best.

For me, there is no light or silver lining. But perhaps this is kick-my-ass-karma.

Because I’m a thief.

It doesn’t matter what my reasons were. I still did the crime and now the shit I feared has come back to bite me.

The worst thing is, I don’t know where they took Dad. Or if he’s still alive.

Terror has twisted my insides into jagged knots, but I’m more worried about my father than I am for myself.

I’m not a crier, but worrying about Dad has ripped every tear from my soul.

He was dragged away bleeding and barely conscious with his bad leg twisted at an angle that made me sick. My mind keeps spinning worse and worse scenarios of what could be happening to Dad.

This situation is beyond Anton with his crude violence and rages. We’re at the mercy of Micah Delarosa. And there’s nothing I can do because I don’t know him.

His name keeps circling in my head like a vulture over a carcass. My mind and body are torn because I didn't just cross him—I let him touch me, taste me, mark me. Then I broke into his vault and stole from him.

It’s crazy how everything about New York felt off. This is the something strange I felt.

The job was easy because it was a setup.

He set it up, but I fell into the trap instead of those assholes at the factory.

That led Micah straight to me and Dad.

The fact that we had a one-night stand was just an anomaly thrown in by the universe to piss with me.

If I had at least gotten his name, I could have avoided that part and saved some ounce of my dignity.

And damn Johnny. Damn him to hell. I hope he gets his comeuppance. I truly do. This is all his fault. How could he leave us?

I get that he’s scared of Anton, but he just ran away and left us without a word.

The door's hinges screech like damned souls as it suddenly opens. I gaze ahead, desperate to know if my father is okay.

Light spills in, harsh and blinding, bathing Micah in an angelic glow, but he

fills the doorway like a demon stepping out of my darkest dreams.

My heart stops, then races double-time, making my breath catch in my lungs.

My brain struggles and terror slips around my thoughts like a fog, pushing me deeper into that state of helplessness.

With his gaze riveted to me, he walks in tall, proud, and handsome.

Handsome.

I really must have lost my mind if I can be thinking that at a time like this.

He’s probably killed Dad and is here now to kill me.

Micah moves closer, his shoes clicking against the concrete floor. He stops before me, standing close enough that I catch his scent. That scent of musk and power. Unlike the night we met, it makes my stomach turn.

Staring at him now, I see what I missed before—the predator beneath the polished exterior. The killer behind that seductive smile that had me shredding my clothes for him with just one word.

Summoning courage from somewhere—maybe the ether—I push my trepidation aside and think of Dad.

"Please," I choke out before he can speak, my voice raw, broken. "Please, tell me about my father. Is he…" I can't finish the sentence. Can't voice my worst fear.

"Your father is receiving medical treatment."

My eyes widen, but then relief makes me dizzy. Dad's alive. And receiving medical treatment? “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. I needed him alive to talk.”

Of course he did. How foolish of me.

“So, Scarlett James.” My name on his lips sends an inappropriate shiver down my spine. Just like it did when he called me bellezza. “Pretty name. I guess now I know why you didn’t want to tell me who you were. No trace, right?”

He sounds different to the carefree person he was in New York. Now he sounds a little unhinged.

“I didn’t know who you were.” I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve said those words. Each time I do, I hope he’ll see that I’m telling the truth.

I hope he remembers how that night played out and it was he who approached me at the bar and asked me to spend the night with him.

I hope he remembers how hesitant I was right from the get-go and sees that those things are synonymous with a person who has no idea who the other is.

“Do you really think not knowing who I was makes stealing from me okay?” He fixes me with a narrowed, questioning stare that reaches deep inside me.

“No, it doesn’t make it okay.”

“I’m glad we can agree on that.” The ghost of a smile tilts his lips. “By the way, I believe you didn’t know who I was. Apart from the fact that it doesn’t add up, I don’t think a girl like you would have come near me if you knew me.” His voice drops lower, darker, wrapping around me like barbed wire.

My heart pounds against my ribs like it's trying to break free, each beat a desperate warning. He comes even closer, and the air turns to ice in my lungs.

I try to swallow, but my throat's too dry and his closeness has made the walls close in, suffocating me.

My skin prickles with electricity, every nerve ending screaming danger, run, hide .

But I’m chained to this wall with nowhere to go but beneath his gaze.

His hand comes up, and I flinch—a full-body shudder I couldn't hide if I tried.

He doesn't touch me. He just places his palm against the wall beside my head, trapping me in the cage of his body.

"Your father told me everything,” he speaks in a firmer tone. Although fear still writhes through me, I’m grateful for the change of subject.

“Everything?”

“Everything. I know about your brother and the debt to your ex.”

I clench my jaw against the rush of humiliation. “I wouldn’t have agreed to do the job if not for the debt.”

“The debt or your ex?”

“He would have killed my father.”

“You sound certain.”

“I am certain.”

If we make it out of here, Anton will be a bigger threat than ever. I can just imagine how mad he must have been when his men didn’t return. I’m sure at least one of them escaped the war to tell the tale. He’ll be furious that we got bigger fish involved.

“How the fuck did you get mixed up with a guy like that?” His words ghost across my cheek.

Another stab of humiliation grips me. “I don’t know.”

I don’t know what the hell he expects me to say. I suppose the attraction to all things bad is my mother again. Dad was her exception. And she didn’t stay with him.

Every guy I’d heard she’d been with was either an ex con or scum. So, maybe I got that streak from her.

“What did the men at the factory say?”

Good , another welcomed subject change, but my mind is jarred from everything that’s happened over the past few days, so I have to think hard to remember those men.

“The guy in charge was called Estes. He had an accent—Eastern European. But not Russian.” That guy had a different accent. “There were five of them. The one who led me into the factory had a Navy Seal tattoo. I didn’t have any dealings with the others, but when they discovered the chip wasn’t working, he said the boss wouldn’t be happy about this.”

Micah gives me that probing stare again, but this time, he seems to be thinking, not trying to pick me apart.

“What else can you tell me about them?”

“Nothing. They left after they discovered the chip was blank and threw me out. I never got paid.”

He stares at me, long and hard and daunting. I expect him to say something more, but all he does is watch me.

“I don’t know anything else,” I mumble. “If I did, I’d tell you.”

“I don’t doubt that, Scarlett . There’s just one more thing I want to know.”

“What?”

“Why’d you spend the night with me? Why would you do that when you had one hell of a mission to accomplish?”

Good question. Anyone watching from the outside would think I was crazy.

Who would take time out to have a one-night stand when they’re supposed to steal from a mafia boss? Me.

Why?

I knew the answer the moment I agreed to let him have me.

I wanted a break. A break from life that only he could give me.

But I won’t tell him that. That’s a secret I want to keep locked away in my heart. Everything else has already been tainted. Why do more damage and make myself look more like a fool?

“I don’t know,” I decide to say.

He brushes his nose over mine and gives me a full-blown smile. “That’s the first lie you’ve told me, Scarlett. Tell me the truth.”

My breath hitches and I gaze back at him wishing I could disappear into the wall. “Just leave me alone.” My plea sounds so juvenile, like something you’d say to the playground bully, but those spineless words are the only fight I’ve got left in me.

“No, bellezza.”

The endearment takes me back to that night again and I wish it didn’t.

A tear tracks down my cheek and I wish I could stop the next one that follows.

He wipes it from my cheek with his thumb and I wish he wouldn’t touch me.

Something dark flashes in his eyes that holds me in place, and suddenly, the air between us feels charged with energy and danger.

Before my next thought can form, his mouth crashes down on mine, numbing me from head to toe.

The kiss is filled with possession, punishment, and promise all at once. It steals my senses, robbing me of thought.

His hand fists in my hair, holding me still as he claims my mouth like he owns it. Like he owns me . Even if I weren’t chained to the wall, I wouldn’t be able to move.

My lips burn, my mind spins, my chest tightens. Then he pulls back, leaving me breathless and gasping and stunned.

With his eyes still on me, he reaches up to my hands and surprises me further by unlocking the chains. They fall away from my wrists with a clunk against the wall that echoes through the room.

My arms drop to my sides, burning as the blood rushes back into them.

"Go," he says. My breath hitches.

“You’re letting me go?” I’m so shocked all I can do is stare at him, uncomprehending.

"Go, before I change my mind." He steps back, giving me room to leave

"My father?—"

"Will be returned to you. Now go."

I glance at the door then back at him before deciding to take the freedom he’s handing me.

For the second time this week, I flee, fearing for my life.

My heart thumps in my ears as I head to the door. I don’t look back until I’m outside and I know he can’t see me anymore.

There, I pause for a beat to process what just happened.

Micah kissed me. Then he let me go and said Dad would be returned to me.

He’s letting us go.

But as I touch my bruised lips, still tingling from his kiss, I sense with bone-deep certainty that this isn’t over.

I don’t think Micah Delarosa is done with me yet.