The Sins that Ruin (Obsidian Knights Secret Society #3)

21. Malone

TWENTY-ONE

She’s firing on instinct. I probably shouldn’t have broken even slightly out of the JM “no shits given” mold. But the girl’s fucking fifteen. And combined with the other threats, threats I never made toward her, it doesn’t sit right. At all.

So I was as fucking nice as I can be. Not just for the cousin’s sake, but for my damn job’s. If someone is actually making threats, then I need to shut it the hell down.

Right now, I’m weaving webs and casting fucking spells to make it look dire.

If there’s a real threat…

I need to know.

But the thing is, Scarlett’s smart and suspicious, and the kind of woman a man could fall for.

If only she wasn’t related to the man I’m going to kill.

“I have no agenda other than what I’ve already told you. I want a way into your world. The ability to generate a sliver of respectability. And you’re the key. Your cousin?” I heave a sigh and cross the room, helping myself to a drink, giving myself time to think, to appear like I’m letting my thought process unspool.

It’s a delicate balance. I really do need to think. Pick apart this threat and get enough intel on the other ones against the cousin. I thought when I’d heard them mentioned the first time, it was just her father and uncle embellishing the threats I put out there. They wanted help, I’m the one to give it. I know my game, and I know all the counter games. Up the threat to try and appeal to my greed, my wants and needs.

But it looks like there is actually someone else in the mix. Someone who has it in for the uncle and Scarlett’s father.

“Your cousin’s fifteen, a child. I know what you think of me, Scarlett. A dangerous man who gives in to his carnal interests. And you’d be right because you share those interests.” I turn and look at her right as she opens her mouth. She snaps it closed and looks away as she rises, clearing up the untouched drink and snack she brought in for her cousin.

But instead of responding, she walks out of the room. I follow her to the kitchen, blocking the door when she puts everything in the sink.

“We like the same shit, Scarlett. I could taste it in the air when I met you.”

“No.”

“Yes. Tell me your ass isn’t still stinging, that your pussy isn’t wet just standing next to me, remembering what we just did. Tell me you didn’t want to jump me in the car.”

She sucks in a breath and puts her hands on the counter. “I want you, okay? It doesn’t mean I trust you. And it sure as hell doesn’t mean that the version of you with my cousin was who you really are.” She levels me with a glare. “I know better.”

“You don’t know me, Red. Only what I’ve let you see.”

“I’ve seen plenty.”

“Let me tell you something.” It’s a gamble, what I’m about to say, but I take a sip and do it anyway. “Do you know how old I was when I found myself alone?”

She just stares at me, waiting.

“Very young. I wasn’t even ten.” I meet her gaze. “My sister was a little older. We came from money and this man…” I swallow back the contempt that rises in my throat when I mention her fucking father. “He wooed my mother. When she said she wasn’t interested, he raped her. And she died.”

“F-from the rape?”

I honestly don’t know if she’s still alive. I’ve never been able to find her. And… and that means she’s probably dead. At least, in my head she is. She lost her mind, completely fell apart when my father took everything from her.

That prick’s dead. I found him. Took care of him.

He was no man. A real man doesn’t kick out his wife and his kids. Divorce her, but don’t disown the fucking kids. Your fucking daughter. I loved my sister, I’m glad she’s happy and found love. I don’t need to bring that hellish time back by reappearing in her life, but anyone who had anything to do with that downfall needs to die.

And ever since I saw Dale Hanlon’s photo and realized who it was, I knew my endgame.

He’s the last one. The biggest one.

It’ll hurt Scarlett, but that’s not my fucking problem.

“That man ripped her apart, destroyed her. I had a sister, like I said. We were left on our own to fend for ourselves. Two kids with nothing. Nobody. I couldn’t protect her. So I’ll protect your cousin. End of fucking story.”

It’s the truth. And a lie.

She falls for the whole thing.

Except I meant what I said about her cousin.

But Scarlett shatters at my story. She falls just a little bit more for the broken man I just presented. I drain the rest of my glass.

“I’m still a monster, but I’m not out to hurt you,” I say, telling a half-truth. I won’t do it intentionally. But she’s going to be collateral damage, my Scarlett. And I can’t help that. “But you wanted to know why I was being nice to your cousin. That’s why.”

“She reminds you of your sister?”

“No. She fucking reminds me of you.” That’s the truth. They look similar. They have strength, and I’ll suspect my sister is as big of a pain in the ass as Scarlett is. “I was nice because she shouldn’t feel scared and alone.”

Scarlett gasps. “Do you think my uncle’s not taking her seriously?”

“Do you?” I counter.

Scarlett wobbles, I can see it in her expression. “I don’t know. I don’t know why he isn’t here.” She pushes past me to return to the living room and then picks up her phone from where it sits on the coffee table. “I’ll call Dad and Uncle Grant and?—”

“No.” I put my hand on hers and take her phone. “We should wait until he gets back. And if he doesn’t, I’ll get a second guy to cover the place.”

She lets me take the phone, not that I give her a choice.

I think we should take this opportunity to do a search.

She breathes out. And if I had a heart, it’d break a little at her loyalty. Her father doesn’t deserve it, and from what I’m learning, neither does the uncle. “I felt bad going through the office.”

Of course she did. That’s the kind of person she is.

Idiotic. Loyal. Kind.

Scratch the last one. Kind to her cousin, perhaps, but beyond that? I refuse to let myself go there.

“I know, but if we search here, maybe I’ll get a better understanding of who’s doing this. The other threats have stopped, but not this one. Why?” I shrug. “I can only protect to a point against the unknown. But once I figure out who’s behind it all, then I can take them out and end this whole thing sooner rather than later.”

And then she gives the strangest look, one that whispers she doesn’t want this thing between us to end. I chalk that up to my libido talking utter shit as she says, “Let’s get started then.”

Uncle Grant doesn’t fucking come home, so at four, I call in a trusted associate to sit by the door. It’s a woman, Miranda, who’s deadly and does work for me when I need that female touch.

She’s up to speed with my role and Orchid Lane, so I feel comfortable leaving her and Scarlett to talk while I use the time to take a trip to the bathroom. I don’t go near there, of course. Instead, I do a last sweep of the place, taking a photo of a list that I found earlier. I couldn’t photograph it with Scarlett there.

It was the first line of the list. YF and a backward date. Year, month, day. Turn it the other way, and that’s the date of the last shipment they had for UR Fantasies.

It might mean something, it might not. But right now, I’m collecting all the stones. It’s not the client list, but it might be a piece, a key to cracking the code when I find it.

I upload the photo to my cloud and delete it from my phone.

When I’m done, we head out.

Scarlett’s quiet, and I leave her alone for the car ride. Let her think I’m brooding over everything.

I don’t check with her to see if she’s okay with everything that’s happened. And I definitely don’t ask if she believes the line of bullshit I fed her. Those would be red flags. JM would never give a shit enough to ask.

Privately, I know this isn’t the end of our conversation. Her instincts are bristling, but the worst thing I can do is continue trying to smooth them.

Privately, I’m fucking thinking she’d make a great little personal lie detector.

Privately, I’m thinking of casting ropes on her and taking her hard while she’s suspended in the air.

When we get back to SoHo, I let her go to bed without giving her a mind-bending orgasm.

The bed I’m in has somehow morphed to rock and I can’t sleep. I punch the pillow, then get up and get the bottle of scotch and my computer. If I can’t sleep, I’ll do some work.

Hours pass. As I work and drink my mind to fatigue, I know it’s time to work my next angle. I need to close this down as soon as possible. I want to kill the prick, yes, but the longer I’m with Scarlett, the more she creeps under my skin, and that’s fucking dangerous as all hell.

To me.

Finally, I drift off, and she’s there, in my head and in my dreams, doing all the filthy, dirty things I could ever want.

“Did I mention,” Scarlett says as she scans the basement room we just entered, “that you take me to the nicest places?”

“Did I mention that sarcasm gets me hot and makes me want to do the most depraved things to you?”

Her expression is sweet and guarded. Absolute perfection. She’s rattled, and she’s got a right to be because this is another underground poker game. But she has no idea what the stakes are tonight.

I think I have a lead on who’s threatening the cousin. We got our hands on some security footage from outside their house, and it looks like a hire the Knights are familiar with. The hire’s just someone paid to threaten, to do dirty jobs. It’s who hired him I want to talk to.

Bishop.

And he’s supposed to be here tonight.

If not… then that’ll be useful, too.

Because a high-powered game like this isn’t about the poker. Or the wagers. It’s about the conversation. What’s said among the who’s who of the dark and twisted world we live in.

Leather and smoke and sex are in the air. But the girls down here, in the depths of the edges of Hell’s Kitchen, below the gay bars and trendy eateries near the water, are the kind that cost a sweet fortune.

Scarlett shoots me a glare, and aware I’m being watched, studied, I take her by the chin and draw her in for a deep, carnal kiss, one that drips in sex and promise. Then I whisper the truth. “Not one of these girls can hold a candle to you.”

She clings to me, her hand fisting my lapel. “Are they the type you usually go for?”

“Do you really want to know?” That would be a yes for JM, but a no for me. These girls do what you want, and they’re hired especially for the event.

The other men—crime lords, mafia, high rollers—they all have wives and lovers at home so they’re free to indulge.

But tonight, I brought my fiancée. And they’re all looking at her with a lust that comes from people who want what they don’t have, just to win the prize and get their hands on it.

Do they traffic? I don’t know. Yet. But I will soon enough.

“My girl here,” I say to Alfonso Mariachi, a rich fuck who dabbles in crime, “is a little nervous. This is her first big adventure.”

She starts to hiss at me as he lights up a cigar and laughs. But then she surprises me by turning to him.

“Forgive me if I get nervous. Malone, when he takes me places, is full of surprises.”

“You don’t look like his usual,” Alfonso says, his eyes on her tits.

My fists itch to punch the asshole out.

“She’s high-class, Mariachi, not what you’re used to.”

“Got myself one of those at home. High-class, bought for her pedigree. Boring as fuck in bed.”

“Maybe you don’t know how to treat her,” Scarlett says a little too loud.

Because he catches it, and the nasty little smile that accompanies the fat prick’s narrow-eyed look at her, I immediately rule him out as someone I need to watch.

He doesn’t know who she is. He just thinks she’s some bought and paid for high-class girl. But he is a dangerous man. All that money and power. Good thing his business is illegal gambling.

“In that case, I hope he loses this fucking game, girl,” he says. “So I can take you for a test drive.”

She spins to face me, her mouth hanging open as I take her to the bar to get a drink. I hold her close.

“What does he mean?”

“Behave, Red,” I say. “Or I’ll make you.”

“Malone…”

“This is a very important game, and I need something enticing to throw into the pot.”

I need her—want her—humiliated, tested to her limits. If Scarlett’s turned so inside out, she won’t be able to think straight about me. She won’t ask questions I can’t answer. She won’t fucking analyze so much if she’s focused on the fact that she might become someone else’s prize tonight.

She gapes at me and tries to take a step back. I don’t let her.

The nerves start to fray. “What do you mean?”

“You,” I say. “Whoever wins gets you.”

“W-what do you mean gets me? I’m not something you can sell, Malone.”

“No, but you’re mine for as long as this job takes. And tonight you better hope like fuck I win, or you’ll be fucking the winner. And everyone else. Surprise, my pretty little party favor. Surprise.”