Devious Corruption (Vicious Sinners #4)

Chapter 1

I’m in the middle of a purchase order when my phone vibrates on my desk. After a quick glance, noticing it’s Joey, I let it go to voicemail.

Whatever my brother needs can wait until I’m finished with this order. We have a local author coming into the store in a few weeks for a reading, and if I don’t have the books available when he gets here, it’ll be my job.

Never mind that I’ve done all the leg work to get the author—a new, up and coming crime novelist—to come into this rinky-dink store. Or that I’ve handled all of the marketing for the small event.

If any one thing should go wrong, it’ll be my ass. And Mr. Miller will never let me talk him into hosting something like this again. Which would hurt the store more than me, but if this bookstore doesn’t do well, I’ll be out of a job, anyway.

Though, not having his books in stock when the author is here for the sole purpose of reading from it and selling copies, would be a pretty big blunder on my part.

The bell over the front door of the shop dings as I submit the order.

When I step out of the back office, Joey stands at the front of the shop.

With his dark brown hair slicked back, his worn out, oversized leather bomber jacket hanging open, and his pants hanging low on his hips, he looks every bit the thieving hooligan our foster mom accused him of becoming.

“Joey.” I wave to him, then make my way up the main aisle of the book shop.

There’s a woman lingering in the romance section, a pathetically small collection given the number of readers that flock to the genre. I need to have a conversation with Mr. Miller about giving up some space in the cookbook section to expand the romance section.

A man flips through a hardcover book in the self-help area. He lets loose a deep bellied and wet sounding belch as I pass by. Hopefully, whatever he’s reading will help him better his manners.

“What are you doing here?” I grab Joey’s arm and pull him away from the door as another woman pushes through, a little girl grasping her left hand.

“Hi,” I smile brightly at her.

“Princess book!” The little girl bounces on her toes, sending her ponytail flopping around.

“You have a kid’s section, right?” The mother asks.

Her hair is pulled back into a messy bun on the top of her head, and the dark circles under her eyes suggests she hasn’t been sleeping as well as her little girl lately. When the girl jerks her hand back, her coat opens more, exposing her rounded belly.

“Of course. It’s in the back of the store, right through the main aisle here, then on the left.” I point the way, and she shuffles off, the little girl bouncing beside her and yanking her arm.

“Hey.” Joey pokes me. “You gonna stand there staring at that little girl, or you gonna pay attention?”

“I’m at work. Can’t this wait until I get home?” I maneuver around him and pick up the box of bookmarks I need to stock at the front register.

I need to rework the displays up here, but Serafina called off today and Michelle is working her second job today and can’t cover. So it’s just me. The display can be put together another day.

“Don’t get mad at me; I called. You didn’t pick up.” He jabs a finger in my direction.

“Because I’m at work.” I grab a fist full of the bookmarks and shove them in the appropriate slots. “And you called less than five minutes ago, so you were already here.”

He flashes an innocent smile. “Still. You didn’t pick up.”

“What do you need?” I break down the empty box and push it into the trash can.

“The key to your apartment. Keith left some stuff there last night; I need to get it.” He leans a hip against a display table, knocking over a propped-up book.

“No.” I pick up the book and fix the display. “I’ll be home in two hours. You can come get whatever it is then.”

“C’mon, Max. Just give me the key. I don’t have time to wait.”

“Joey, the last time I let you in the apartment when I wasn’t there, you let Marion out and you didn’t lock my door. You’ll have to wait.” After I fix the display, I sigh. “What is it, anyway? I didn’t see anything after you guys left last night.”

He avoids my gaze. A tell I learned quickly after meeting him in the home we shared as foster kids. Right before telling a bald-faced lie, Joey sweeps his gaze down to the floor. Keith’s tried to rid him of the habit, but some habits die hard.

“And don’t bother lying. Just tell me, Joey.” I fold my arms over my chest and do my best impression of a strict older sister.

Only, I’m two years younger than them. While we aren’t blood related, we spent the last five years of my youth in the same home, bonded by the foster care system.

“Just something we need to move tonight. The guy Keith needs to give it to wants to meet at six.” He lifts a shoulder. “C’mon, Max. I’ll make sure the cat doesn’t get out, and I’ll lock the door and put the key in your mailbox.”

“Excuse me, do you have Crime and Punishment in hardcover?” The man who had been in the self-help section calls over to me from the World Literature shelves.

“In hardcover? No. But there are several editions in paperback to choose from.” I start to walk over to him, but he shakes his head.

“No. Thanks, but I need hardcover.”

“I can order it for you if you’d like,” I offer, putting my hand up to Joey which hopefully makes him understand I need him to stand quietly so I can do my job.

“That’s okay, I’ll just order it online. Thanks.” He puts back the book he was holding and heads for the door.

I sigh, dropping my shoulders.

“Max. The key?” Joey shoves his open palm at me.

At same time, the mother rushes up the aisle toward me.

“I’m so sorry, but do you have a washroom?” She glances back at her little girl who’s doing a potty dance.

“Of course. If you walk down the historical fiction section, there’s a door for the restrooms.” I point the way.

“Thank you,” she hurries back to her daughter, scoops her up in her arms and heads for the last row of books.

“Max.” Joey slaps the back of his hand against my arm to get my attention.

“Joey, I–”

“Agh!” From the romance corner comes a startled scream, then the deafening roar of books tumbling in a massive, avalanche wave.

“Oh my god!” I run back down the main aisle and find the customer in the romance section standing beside two turnstiles laying at her feet. Books sprawl across the floor.

“I’m so sorry. I was grabbing a book off the top rack, and the whole thing came down. And then the next one, too.”

“No, no it’s all right. Are you okay? It didn’t land on you?” I check her over quickly for any injuries.

If she’s been hurt, she can sue, and if she sues, Mr. Miller will definitely have to close the store in order to pay her off. And all the work I’ve been doing trying to freshen this place up will have been for nothing.

“Oh no. I’m fine.” She crouches. “Seriously. I’m okay. Here, let me help you.”

“No, no. I’ll get this.” I wave her away. “It looks like the bottom broke. I’ll get it cleaned up. Did you get the book you wanted at least?”

She smiles apologetically. “No, It fell right as I touched it.”

“Ah, well, we’ll find it. Which book was it?” I glance down at the mess of paperbacks.

Her cheeks flush as she offers, “I can dig for it.”

“Ma’am?” The mother is outside the restroom calling me. “Ma’am!”

Her eyes are wide, and she’s bouncing on her toes, just like her little girl had been earlier.

“It’s okay, go. I’ll look for the book.” She starts moving books aside, looking for what I’m sure is a sizzling story.

“All right. I’ll be right back. Sorry.” I push up from the floor.

It’s moments like this, I wish Mr. Miller hired more than the three staff members we have, so I wouldn’t be stuck here alone like this.

“What’s wrong?” The little girl’s face is red and blotchy like she’d been crying.

“I’m sorry, but Julie had an accident. She didn’t quite make it to the toilet. I tried to clean it up, but there’s only the hand dryers.” She places her hand on Julie’s shoulder, squeezing her slightly as she whispers, “She’s really embarrassed.”

“Oh, no, nothing to be embarrassed about!” I smile down at Julie. “It happens a lot. I’ll get it cleaned up, and it’ll be good as new. Did you find the princess book you wanted?”

That makes her smile. “Mama said we’d get it after I pottied.”

“Okay, then, why don’t you go get it, and I’ll meet you up at the front of the store.”

“Max, I got the keys. No worries!” Joey breezes past us from the back office with my keys dangling from his left hand.

“Joey, wait.” I catch the woman in romance in my sideview heading up to the register.

“I’ll drop them in your mailbox!” He yells, then takes off, running the rest of the way out of the store.

“No, Wait—” I trip over a book that’s fallen off the shelf in the Historical Fiction section on my way to the front, barely catching myself before I faceplant on the hard wood flooring.

The bell dings over the front door, signaling his departure.

Muttering to myself, I pick up the paperback copy of Crime and Prejudice and re-shelve it.

“I found it.” The woman places a protective hand over the paperback on the counter as I approach. “Sorry for the mess back there. I stacked the books for you but you’re right, the display is broken.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that but thank you.” I quickly ring her up, glancing only momentarily at the title of the book before sliding it in the bag and handing it to her. “Enjoy.”

Her blush returns with her smile, and she quickly escapes the store. I wish I could join her, but I have another hour before I can lock the door and then I have to somehow fix the broken display and clean up the bathroom.

As I get back to the romance section, little Julie bounces up to me, carrying a book.

“I’m ready!” She sing-songs her words, and I can’t help but smile in response.

“Then let’s get you all checked out. Oh, that’s a good pick!” I tap the book as I get back up to my feet and walk ahead of her and her mother to the register.

It’s three hours before I’m able to punch out and go home. Add another forty-five minutes before I climb out of my car, thanks to a car accident that involved three cars and completely shut down traffic.

My feet ache, my back is sore, and my stomach is growling by the time I get to my mailbox. It takes a minute for me to dig out the little mailbox key that’s sunk to the bottom of my purse.

I’m ready for a pitcher of margaritas. My stomach turns at the idea though. Probably thanks to the too many margaritas I had when I went out with some friends a few weekends ago.

Okay, maybe a cup of tea and a book. A nice, long, dirty book. That will put everything right as rain.

Finally, my fingers wrap around the key, and I open my mailbox. After grabbing all the junk mail, and few bills I’m afraid to open, I realize there’s nothing else in the box.

There’s no key to my apartment.

I’m locked out. That asshole locked me out of my own apartment.