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

35. Malone

THIRTY-FIVE

Blind, searing panic. It’s fucking bloomed. I take it, mold it into something I can use. I don’t give a fuck about the other Knights.

I don’t give a fuck about the job.

I give all the fucks in all the world about Scarlett.

God, I’m such an idiot.

I missed all the fucking signs. Every one of them. I grip the steering wheel as I head to the warehouse building in outer Bushwick.

The fact that there’s such a huge resemblance between Scarlett and Amelia? Shit, I should have put it together immediately. The fucking simple fact I know what kind of sick bastard Dale Hanlon is tells me he probably used or raped his brother’s wife. And her revenge was putting his name on the birth certificate.

I’m guessing fucking Grant worked it all out.

All it takes is getting an original certified copy of the birth certificate. A fake certificate, or at least one that’s been altered, won’t hold with passports, so I guess they’ve never made plans to leave the country before. Same issue with a driver’s license, and she’s just at that age where she’s about to need one. The whole sordid fucking thing would be blown open soon enough.

But I can’t even think past the fact Scarlett fucking walked into a trap.

I want to beat her fucking ass. I also want to protect her.

She’s a na?ve idiot. One who disobeyed at the last minute.

At least she had the fucking sense to call her damn friend.

“My phone was off, goddammit.” I thump the steering wheel with my fist as I screech to a halt a block away.

I check my gun. Backup clips.

My fucking phone’s lighting up, but I ignore the call, then turn it to silent and shove it in my pocket. They know where to find me. And they’re going to try to talk me down, tell me to fucking stay back until a team arrives.

But fuck that.

There isn’t time.

I’m not risking Scarlett.

I’m not missing out on the opportunity to kill her father. Maybe her uncle. Okay, I’ll take that fucker out, too.

The street’s busy with trucks and workers, and I reach over to the glovebox, pull out a baseball hat, and pull it on.

And then with a deep breath to try and calm the panic down into the coldness, into the bright anger, I get out and walk toward the back entrance.

Inside, voices ring out.

Scarlett. Her fucking uncle. I can’t hear the words, but I know the sound of their voices.

The front will be full of fucking goons. And that’s where the Knights and their shiny dark and deadly horses will arrive. Guns, not horses, but the analogy holds.

I take a breath in the back where the building sits. The grass is sparse with giant patches of dirt. Looks like the building is connected to the one next to it. No doubt that’s owned by Hanlon, too.

There are old broken crates, a tire, and garbage lying on the ground. But I ignore it all as I carefully pick the padlock on the back door. I do this as silently as I can.

It clicks and opens, and I ease it off the door. Then I pull out the Kimber, flick off the safety, and I pull the door open. Holding my breath, I step inside.

Silence falls over the place.

I see him. The man who spoke to me last night, whose fucking name totally escapes me now, reaches for something in his jacket. I don’t give him a chance to use it, though, and plug his chest with two bullets. He drops to the floor like a lead weight, a pool of blood spreading around him on the floor.

Then I swing the weapon to Grant. He lunges for Scarlett and grabs her, pulling her in front of him like a motherfucking cowardly piece of shit.

“I wouldn’t. Not unless you want a bullet to your brain, fucker.”

My narrowed eyes fall on Dale where he lies limp on the floor. Shit. It’s both nightmarish and fucking Christmas all at once.

Scarlett’s bleeding from her mouth and I want… I want to kill the bastard who touched her. Kill him slowly with the kind of prejudice that’ll give one of Satan’s torture demon’s a run for his money.

My hand clutches the gun, and I force myself to hold it steady.

“Scarlett, move the fuck away from your father and uncle.” She looks at me, her eyes wide and glittering with fear. “Now.”

She shifts away from her uncle, but not her father. “Malone, he-he’s not Amelia’s father. And he’s trying to set you up.”

“I know. Take Amelia and go out the back. Behind me.”

She takes a step and looks at her father, tears in her eyes. “Dad?—”

“Leave him.” Somehow, I manage to sound reasonable. “And get out, Red. Now.”

Her father lies between me and her prick uncle as commotion pours in from the front. A bloodbath is about to commence, and while the Knights won’t stand in my way… I might be done.

I don’t give a shit.

Scarlett’s still behind me, I fucking feel her. The scent of gardenias weaves around me, subtle, almost not there, except I can smell them because I’m so fucking in tune with her. I might even love her.

But I’m going to fuck that up, ruin her life, because I need to get my revenge. I need to see the bastards bleed and die. Both of them.

The door in front of me opens, and Smith pops his head into the room. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Beyond him, Orion’s on the phone calling, no doubt, Gisella the Cleaner, since there are two bodies. He didn’t shoot them; he didn’t have to. The man’s fucking built and utterly deadly, powerful. He kills with his hands.

“What I need to do. If you try and stop me, I’ll drop you, too.” I know he doesn’t believe me, but I’m fucking beyond furious. I keep the gun and my gaze on Grant. “Take Scarlett and the kid.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” says Scarlett.

“Don’t you think you’ve done enough? You got yourself all tangled up in this shit because you used yourself as bait for these bastards.”

“For my family?” She starts to approach me, but there’s a scuffle when Smith intercedes and leads her out, before coming back for Amelia.

“Close the door.”

“Damn it, Malone, we have the list and?—”

“This fucker, Grant, put his hands on Scarlett. Was willing to sell his daughter and niece, weren’t you?” I snarl.

“They have it coming, and Amelia isn’t mine.” He looks at me, mouth twisting into disdain. “You would have done the same.”

“No. I wouldn’t.”

From the floor, a very groggy Dale tries to sit up. “Wait…”

“Shut your fucking mouth, you rapist.”

“Rape…?” Dale stares up at me. “What are you talking about?”

I take a long hard look at Grant. He’s shaved since I last saw him, the salt-and-pepper beard gone. I didn’t even fucking notice until now.

“My mother. January West.”

“You’re her little bastard son?” Grant says, taking a step backward toward the door. “Figures. A beautiful piece in this whole thing to hold it together. Once your friends are taken care of and the police get here?—”

“You think the cops are coming? Your call was intercepted, man. You touched Scarlett. I won’t let you fucking walk.”

“I can?—”

“Grant, shut up,” Dale says. “Uncuff me.”

The man’s gaze is on me, I can feel the fucking burn. “Uncuff him, Grant. I’m not killing someone who’s cuffed.”

“No!”

I close my eyes a moment, regret lancing through me. Fucking Scarlett.

“Get out, Scarlett.”

“No. What are you doing, Malone? Please. Please don’t.” Her voice breaks and something in me crumbles.

I have to do this. I have to.

“My mother suffered at his hands,” I say. “He raped her.”

Scarlett moves in, and Orion stands at the door, watching.

Smith must have taken Amelia because he’s not here. But Orion is. Backup, witness, whatever. Neither he nor Mercer would talk me down from this. They’ve lost like I have. I don’t know specifics; we don’t talk about that shit. But loss recognizes loss. Wounds attract another.

It’s why we ended up as Knights.

Not the money or the thrills or the reasons to right wrongs, take out low-life fuckers. We do it to try to assuage our wounds, our demons.

Payment is doing an illegal job under the cover of near-perfect immunity.

We can still go down. But it would take a lot. Beyond most.

I’m talking law, not by a knife or a bullet or some other kind of weapon. We bleed and suffer and die. We just happened to be skilled.

What I’m doing isn’t about skill.

It’s revenge.

Ice-cold, ready to be served.

And fuck… Scarlett. I want… I need… I want to protect her. I want to save her heart and soul and…

I don’t think I can do it.

Because I love her.

A useless, dangerous thing, love. And there’s no future for us.

My hand starts to shake, and so I bring the other one up and clap it over my shaky one, pointing my gun at the uncle. Because Christ, I want to fucking kill them both.

I waver back and forth, not sure if I can live with myself if I kill him, not sure if I can live with myself if I don’t. I do know Scarlett’s shattered heart will haunt me if I do. And?—

“Please, if you care for me at all, Malone, please don’t. My father isn’t… he isn’t a rapist. Dad? Dad?” Her voice rises, and I grit my teeth.

“Do not fucking move, asshole,” I say to Grant as he tries to slip away after unlocking the cuffs. “You touched her. Bruised her.”

“I remember you, too,” Dale says, like a realization just fell upon him. “Grant didn’t rape your mother, son; they had an affair. But…”

“That stupid bitch?” Grant fucking Hanlon doesn’t know when to shut up. “She had it coming. Trying to ruin my life when I got married. Of course, I didn’t know my brother was fucking the woman I was marrying. But your mother, JM, she tried to leave her husband for me. To bring her brats. I didn’t want her. She was a good fuck, don’t get me wrong. But I took care of it. Turned her the fuck away and told her husband. He kicked her out. Why don’t you blame your father?”

“He paid for those sins,” I say.

Everything suddenly turns dark, then bright, and finally it’s perfect fucking clarity. Every single thing in the room is laser sharp.

Because the truth.

It’s there.

Right fucking there.

Too bright.

Too clear.

It was the fucking uncle.

Rape or not, he destroyed my family, my mother. And he hurt Scarlett.

The last thing tips the scales into no return territory.

And I don’t think. I pull the fucking trigger and he drops, head hitting the concrete floor.

Fuck, I’d love to say he’s dead.

Gone.

But I can see him breathing. He knocked himself out when he went down.

Another failure of mine.

How the fuck do I kill someone Scarlett cares for? I know her. She’ll still care for him, even while she hates him for what he’s done to her and Amelia.

I turn to look at Scarlett who’s shaking, staring at me like I’m what I am. A monster.

She thinks he’s dead.

There’s no love in her eyes.

No trust, no soft and fuzzy feels for me.

“Don’t kill my dad, Malone,” she says brokenly.

But it’s my sweet Baby Red. She’ll twist herself, find a way to save me.

She can’t.

No one can.

So I put the nail in the coffin.

Kill it dead.

“Give me one reason why, Scarlett.”

Dale pushes himself up and gives his brother a long look. He’s gray, and he holds his stomach like he’s trying not to throw up. But he lifts his head to me.

“I wish… I wish things could have been different. He didn’t rape your mother, though. And I did things I’m not proud of. I fell in love with the wrong woman and had to watch my child grow up with him.” Dale chokes on a breath. “I tried to help your mother. Gave her money.”

“But you didn’t actually help her, did you?” I study him. He’s trying to make himself the hero and he’s fucking not. He’s still a piece of shit. How the fuck he ended up with someone like Scarlett as a daughter, I don’t know.

Dale paid my mother to go. There’s a ragged memory of him, one that’s been twisted by time. And now I remember more clearly. There’d been another man, one who said horrible things to my mom. And this one… he gave her money. Told her to go. Leave them alone.

Fuck.

“I should kill you for that.”

I drop the gun to my side, my pulse punching a hole in my throat. “Orion?”

“Yeah?”

“Take Scarlett.”

He comes in and gently pulls her from the room.

I raise the gun again the minute we’re alone. “You destroyed her and left her to the wolves. With two kids.”

“It wasn’t my?—”

“Responsibility? A man takes care of shit. And your brother fucked her over. How much did you give her? How much?”

“Five thousand dollars. It was enough with her own money.”

I laugh. “Hush fucking money? My fucker father cut her off, took all her money. She disappeared, did you know that? Me and my sister went into the system. Because of your fucking family.”

Dale looks at me. “But you agreed to help protect us?—”

I swivel around and shoot the fucking wall. Then I turn back to him. “You don’t get to speak to me. You don’t get to ask questions. You might not have touched my mother, but you played a part in her downfall.”

“Hate me all you want,” he says. “But I didn’t touch her. Maybe I could have given her more. I didn’t. And I’m?—”

“Shut up,” I say, shoving the gun back into the waistband of my pants. “Shut the fuck up. You get to live. Be fucking thankful. You and your scumbag brother both fucking survive.”

And with that, I slam out the back door.

I haven’t been back to the Obsidian Knights HQ in three weeks. Well, apart from the trip to the debrief.

I haven’t been in fucking New York.

Why bother? The job ended well.

Grant Hanlon’s rotting somewhere in a jail cell. Amelia Hanlon’s traumatized, but her virtue’s untouched. So there’s that silver fucking lining.

Scarlett…

Fucking hates the ground I walk on.

But now I’m back.

I rub my eyes as I open my actual apartment door. This three-story home in Greenwich Village is an old, converted carriage house, and I used to love the fuck out of it. Now? It’s a little empty inside.

I’m a little empty inside.

Turns out, fucking Scarlett got the other half of the list, hidden in those receipts she grabbed from the office. They were at the SoHo place. Her father sang like a bird about what he knows, which isn’t much beyond a few different people. He doesn’t work with Dark Desires, that UR Fantasies wanted information about.

But his asshole brother Grant does. Or did, anyway, before he was sent to the clink. Jones is keeping that job going, forcing Dale to work with the Knights to get intel on Dark Desires. We’ll be keeping an eye on their comings and goings.

And me?

Fuck revenge. I’ve had nightmares, dreams of killing her father. Being soaked in blood and then finding out he never touched my mother. I’ve dreamed of killing Grant. Loving every minute of it, watching the life drain from his eyes.

Right up until Scarlett wakes me.

But when my eyes open, I realize I’m alone.

My phone rings the moment I cross the living room floor to get a drink.

“How was New Orleans?” Mercer asks.

“I got that ingredient you wanted.”

“Good. I have a message from Smith. He had to take off to visit an old friend, but he told me Jones needs something that’s in your safe at the SoHo place. Something to do with the UR Fantasies job.”

“I handed everything over.”

“Your funeral.” He hangs up.

My fucking phone pings with a text.

Tonight.

“Fucker.”

I might as well get it over with. Heart heavy, I down my drink and head out the door.

The last place I want to go is the SoHo place where so many memories live. Why the fuck people are into love is beyond me. It’s pain. Torture. Utter shit.

Three weeks, and not one fucking woman has interested me. I went to some of the kinkiest places in New Orleans and nothing moved me. At all.

I get in my car and drive to the building, parking in the first spot I see. I’m not going to be there long.

Maybe I’ll fucking pack up shop here. Work from Europe for a while. There’s always shit going down there. It isn’t like I need to worry about money.

The elevator opens and I get out, crossing to my door.

I swear to fucking God the ghosts of cupcakes past are haunting the air.

Punching in the door code, I open it and step inside.

And…

The aroma’s stronger.

Everything in me freezes.

I’m not alone.

Someone steps into the living room, long dark hair up in a ponytail, apron on like Betty fucking Crocker.

My heart goes crazy.

Scarlett.