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

27. Malone

TWENTY-SEVEN

“Quit fucking biting, Scarlett. It’s me.”

But for some reason, she fights harder. Kicking, twisting, and while she’s not gifted at all in self-defense, I don’t want to hurt her, so I take it. The elbow to the ribs and stomach, her backward kick to my knees and thighs. At one point she gets dangerously close to my balls with a fist.

“Fuck. Goddammit, woman. Watch it.”

I peel my hand away from her mouth. She manages another slam to the stomach before I tighten my arms around her. “Let go of me.”

“Are you going to calm the fuck down?”

“Okay.”

I start to loosen my hold and she turns into a wildcat, turning on me with nails out, not that they’re long, but still. “Scarlett, stop.” Grabbing her once again, I press into her.

She lets out a cry and I push my hand back over her mouth once more. But Scarlett’s not letting up.

I hold her tighter, and then I slam us back into the wall so she can’t escape.

“Let go of me,” I think she says again through my hand, the muffled sounds familiar.

“No.” I press us hard to that wall. “Not until you stop being a fucking crazy person.”

The fight seeps out, but I can feel her muscles are still tense.

“Don’t fucking scream. I’m letting go of your mouth, but so help me if you fucking scream…” I drop my hand but I don’t let her go.

Jesus. I don’t have time for this. Any of it.

She breathes in. “I know you sent the threats.”

A crushing wave of “oh, fuck me” consumes my body, hot at the edges, cold in the middle, hitting my stomach hard. Shit and fuck and all of the expletives the world has to fucking offer.

Jesus Christ. I left the apartment in such a hurry that I didn’t put anything away. I’d probably had one drink too many, but thing is, even fucked up, I don’t ever do that. Leave shit—important shit—out. I’m meticulous with that. No, I was in… not a panic, but something pretty damn close, and I don’t think that was over the cousin.

That kind of stuff I can deal with. It’s what I do.

What I’m not used to is someone like Scarlett and the turmoil she stirs. And last night…

I raced out of the place over… fuck. It was for Scarlett.

I was actually worried about her, and I wanted… shit.

It doesn’t matter what I wanted.

Doesn’t matter I was hoping to rescue Amelia and get back before Scarlett woke up. I didn’t fucking think. Scarlett’s a dangerous woman. So fucking strong.

“Going through my stuff, Scarlett,” I say in dangerous tones. “Not very nice.”

“You left the door open, and that’s the part you’re choosing to focus on, Malone, or whoever you are? I don’t think you’re the criminal you claim to be. So who the fuck are you?”

I know exactly what she’s asking. Not just my name, but who I am, what I do. What I want. She already knows my name as James Malone, but I give her the Malone, like she calls me. Scarlett’s smart enough to get it, though.

“It’s Malone.”

“Last name?”

I look at her, leaning in, pressing in against her. “Does it matter?”

Her lips part and I’m hit with the urge to kiss her, seduce her down to this filthy ground in this filthy place where depraved things have no doubt happened. But I don’t.

“Probably not, but I think I deserve to know.”

“Wrong thing to focus on here, Baby Red.”

Her eyes narrow. “Where’s Amelia? What did you do with her?” she asks. “What is this place?”

Wait, she thinks I…? I stare at her, mouth grim.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I ask. “I didn’t do anything with Amelia.”

“You took her. You’re here, after all. I know you took her.” Her words come at me like bullets.

And they fucking hurt.

They shouldn’t, but they do. I’m a prick, but I’d never take a fucking kid. Jesus. And… and I need to step away. Take a moment.

“Scarlett, I’m going to let you go, but if you fucking take a swing at me, I’ll put you down.”

She gapes. “Put me down? Like… kill me?”

“What the actual fuck?” Fury rises in my chest, fast and hot and taking no prisoners. “No, but I’ll knock you to the ground, tie you up in a non-kinky way if you don’t relax and listen.”

Taking that gamble, I let her go, stepping back. “Amelia called that number I left her.” I look around. It’s pretty fucking obvious what this place has been used as. I can see the marks where someone set up mounted cameras in the dirt on the floor.

But everything in here’s been here a while.

Except the backpack.

“This place,” I say, “looks like a setup. How did you know to come here?”

“How did you?”

“I followed you.”

She stares at me, anger and accusation bright in her eyes. Then she glances at the mattresses and shudders. “There was a call that came in on Dad’s work phone.” She swallows, lip trembling. “I went to Sugar Hill to look for him. He’s missing. I found his phone. Did you?—?”

“No. I didn’t do anything to your fucking father. According to your uncle, who got in just after we got to the building?—”

“We?”

I ignore her. “Your father’s away on business.” I reach for the backpack and open it. Schoolbooks, a lunch. My teeth clench. Amelia’s. I show it to Scarlett but leave it on the floor. “I didn’t hang around talking to Grant. What did the person on the phone say?”

“The voice was male but distorted. And he wanted bank account details and the list. I just grabbed some things because they said an hour or she dies. No police.”

And still the accusation’s there. But I’ve got more problems than that. An hour? Time’s most definitely ticking, and it’s got to be close to the deadline.

I take her by the shoulders. “We probably don’t have much time left. I need you to trust?—”

“You?” A sharp laugh tears from her lips. “You want me to trust you?”

“Yes.” It’s a hard ask, but I need her to trust me on that basic level. Because I need her.

“I don’t trust you.” She wrenches away and presses back into the wall, and I take in how she’s holding her bag. I rip it from her and pull out the gun. “Do you even know how to fucking use this?”

“Pull the trigger.”

“You’re not keeping this.” I check it, make sure the safety is on, and stick it into the back of my jeans.

“Someone took your cousin,” I say, keeping my voice low. “And fine, you don’t trust me, with good reason?—”

“Why?” she asks, and tears shimmer in among the anger and accusations. “Why should I trust you? I don’t even know who you are or what your agenda is.”

“Scarlett.” I cup her chin with gentle fingers, and it’s like a punch to the stomach when she flinches away. But I capture her again. “Scarlett, listen. I can’t tell you that. I can’t tell you what I’m doing or who I work for.”

“Then how can I trust you?”

“Because I’m asking you to. You’ve let me tie you up. That was trust. It doesn’t matter that you aren’t sure what to make of me and my story, but you trust me on some gut level.”

“I want you,” she says, voice breaking, “but that’s different. It isn’t trust.”

“Bullshit.” I take in a breath. I know I need to give her something, but the Obsidian Knights or what I plan to do to her father? That’s off the table. “The story about me? Growing up? My mother? That’s all true. Well, I don’t know if she’s dead for sure, most likely, she is. My name is Malone, Malone West. And I need the client list. You don’t have to like me, but I’m one of the good guys. I might not be a good man, but I’m on the side that does good.”

“What if you’re lying?”

“Red, do you honestly believe I’d be standing here begging you to trust me, to work with me to find Amelia if I took her? Christ, there are better ways to blackmail someone, or whatever the fuck you think I’m doing. If I’d taken her, I wouldn’t be here. And shit, you’d be my bet in that, not a kid.”

She looks up at me. “I don’t know.”

“Do you think your uncle can save your cousin? What’s your instinct about the fucking phone call you got?” I ask. In my head, the clock’s still ticking down. We don’t have time for this bullshit.

Someone’s on their way here, according to her. Someone took her cousin, and they want something. The threats I never sent or carried out, someone else did. The competition? UR Fantasies? Some disgruntled client? I still don’t know. But instinct tells me with this setup in here, it’s someone in the illicit and probably illegal sex trade, specifically fucked-up real-life porn. And I need her help to get the list. I need her help to get her cousin and to find her fuck of a father who’s taken off on some kind of business trip. Or gone into hiding, because Grant fucking Hanlon was shifty as fuck when he said that. Didn’t want me there.

He’s also the one who didn’t like the security at his house even when he knew there was a threat against his kid.

At least Amelia had the smarts to call the number I left her, and that gave us a jump on trying to get an identity of the person who snatched her.

We’re good at our jobs. Exceptional, but in a busy building, things can be a lot harder to spot. She wasn’t kidnapped at gunpoint, so there wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for us to search for or call into question.

But she called, and that was enough to get us started.

We need more time, dammit.

“It was odd. Why bank accounts? The list? What’s going on, Malone?” she asks.

“I don’t know, but I’ll find out.” I’m a fucking bastard for doing this, but I kiss her. Soft and sweet and tender. It’s a cruel move, one designed to play into her attraction to me, to her feelings for me. To convince her that she needs to let down her defenses.

Scarlett Hanlon’s not the type to do all that insanely intimate, kinky sex without falling for someone. She might not know it, but she is. Has. Whatever. And I need to use that. Shit, it’s probably why I felt the way I did last night. I could feel it in the air.

So I kiss her again and her lips cling, tongue touching mine, and it’s magic; it really is. She’s so fucking warm and soft, and her kisses are fuel for fantasy, for comfort, they’re imbued with emotion and she melts into me.

I lift my head and rest my forehead against hers. “I’ll find out, Red. You’re important. And I’m here to help. I swear.”

The lies come quickly, but I’m here to help find her cousin. In the aftermath, maybe that’ll be comforting.

“I want Amelia back.” She’s still a little soft around the edges as she says that. “Is someone actually coming here?”

“If that’s what they said to you.”

“Someone who isn’t you?”

“Scarlett.” I sigh. Shit. I need a plan. When whoever the fuck turns up here, I don’t want them to see her.

I’ll step in as JM. The man who’ll do anything to protect his woman.

Buy time.

“Listen, someone’s going over the footage to see if we can get a look at the car or the person who left with your cousin. But until we get more information, help me help you and Amelia.”

I scan the hallway outside the room. There’s one more door at the end. It’s open. I take her hand and pull her toward it. “To do that, I’ll take care of whoever’s coming. And I need you to hide.”

I hear a sound and shove her into the room.

“Trust me?” I mutter it one more time, my hand on the door handle.

“Never,” she says.

I smile. “That’s my girl.”

That single word she utters holds a grudging trust. It’s tenuous and comes with all sorts of addendums and clauses. But it’s a start.

And that’s all I need right now.

I pull out my Kimber, make doubly sure it’s loaded, and tuck it at the front of my jeans, front and fucking center. It basically says, ‘Hey, I’m JM, an arms dealer and sleazy kink club owner, someone new to full-time living in New York, a mover and shaker in the world of crime.’

Whoever took Amelia is going to want to negotiate, set something up, see what the playing field is. The backpack was meant to push Scarlett or her father into panic mode.

A question nips at my brain. Why wouldn’t they have called Grant? Why not the girl’s father? Unless, of course, he got a call, too.

But then why wouldn’t he have reached out to me?

Fuck, I don’t like this.

I shut off the ringer on my phone when I followed fucking Scarlett here. I take it from my pocket to check it.

There were three missed calls from Grant Hanlon.

Son of a bitch.

I pick up Amelia’s backpack and head to the front of the warehouse.

The door creaks open.

My Kimber burns a hole in my flesh, my fingers twitching to pull it and shoot.

“JM,” the man says as he steps inside. “I’d say I’m surprised to see you, but who the fuck would I be kidding?”