I look at Sin once the nurse is gone and wonder what in the world to say to him. This kind of thing isn’t me. But I’m determined to try if it might help. “Breck. It’s Bleu. I’m here with you. You’re not alone.” I squeeze his hand. “Do you feel that?” I get no response. No grip of his hand or flutter of his eyes.
I move from the chair to his bed and slip in next to him, careful to not tug on any of his tubes or lines. If hearing my voice is good for him, then feeling my touch must be better.
I stroke my knuckles down his unshaven face. “Sinclair Breckenridge. You come back to me right now. Please. I’m here, waiting for you.”
I move my hand to his chest and feel the beat of his heart beneath it. “I want you to listen for my voice through the darkness. Let it bleed through so you can hear me.” I move my fingers to his inked Celtic shield of protection. “I’m not letting go of you. It’s not time for our story to end.”
Nothing.
“I need you to see into me.”
* * *
Sin dances on the brink of death a few times before finally making a turn for the better. It hasn’t been easy but he’s almost fully recovered. He’s well enough to be discharged from the hospital tomorrow, so that means I won’t be sleeping under his parents’ roof after tonight. I have no choice. It’s time to kill Thane.
I’ve familiarized myself with all things within the Breckenridge compound–surveillance camera locations, Thane’s schedule, the guards at the exterior entrances along with the times of their rotation. Lucky for me, they haven’t considered the notion of the enemy being welcomed inside with open arms.
I’m struggling with my decision. Not because I care anything about Thane. My conflict is spurred by my feelings for Sin. I hate the thought of destroying his world, especially so soon after his brush with death. But I’m forced to choose who comes first–him or Harry.
I can’t continue to stay. Time is my other enemy. I must do this and get home so I can be with my dying father. I’ve already lost more time than I intended.
I need to hear Harry’s reassuring voice one last time before I go through with this. I use my burner phone to place the call and he answers on the first ring. “Hey, girlie.”
“I’m calling about the status of my account.” I spout off a phony number.
Harry and I have our own language no one else is privy to. Each line has been carefully chosen to signify something distinct. We do this because my voice could be heard through a planted bug. “I’m withdrawing the entire balance so I’ll be closing the account today.”
“You’re inside Thane’s?”
“Yes.”
“You’re proceeding tonight?” I have to. I’m not sure when I’ll have another opportunity.
“That’s right.”
“Be careful, girlie. You’re a lamb in the lion’s den. There’s no room for error.” He’s right. One false move and I’m dead. Game over.
“Of course.”
“In devoting your life to making this right, it would be a shame to get it wrong. Take your time. Don’t rush the kill.” I’ve vested my entire existence around this moment. I’ve lived and breathed for it. I won’t ruin it now.
“Everything appears to be correct.”
“I expect a follow-up call as soon as you’re able,” Harry reminds me.
“I’ll phone back to confirm everything was in order.”
“I love you.” We didn’t cipher anything for this one.
“Thank you.” I want to tell him how much I love him but this will have to do.
I return the untraceable burner phone to its hidden compartment within my bag. I walk the guest room floor as I go over my plan in my head one last time. Thane’s working late in his office. He drinks bourbon, at least three, every night so his reflexes and mental status are sluggish. I’m going to knock and enter. He’ll be on low alert, not expecting me to have any motive other than a request to talk. I’m going to tell him who I am before I kill him. I’ll recount all the details about that night—how I heard the fired shots while I was hiding beneath my bed, the devastation of watching him kill my beloved dog, and how frightened I was as he held a pillow over my face. When I finish, I’m going to order him to his knees. I hope he begs me to not kill him when I place the barrel of my gun to his temple.
Time to do this.
I walk the hall and do just as I’ve strategized. I knock and listen for him to tell me to enter.
It’s while I’m standing there waiting for Thane to respond that I realize I’ve traded my life and all I love for this moment. My entire existence has been dedicated to this execution and I’m suddenly overcome by emotions I don’t understand. My purpose in life is ending. What will I possibly do once this is over? This is the close of a lifelong mission—the death of my dream. I should be happy, or at least satisfied, but I’m not.
There’s no reply from within so I knock again, still without an answer. I open the door and go inside to find a sleeping Thane on his sofa. Correction: a passed-out Thane since he reeks of bourbon.
He’s making his extermination too easy for me. But this isn’t the way I want it. Killing an incoherent Thane will be less than satisfying. I need him to be looking into the eyes of the little girl he wronged as he dies. It’s how I’ve envisioned it my entire life and I don’t think anything less will fulfill me.
“Wake up, Thane.” I nudge his shoulder but he doesn’t budge. “Wake up. I want to see fear in your eyes when I put a bullet in your head.”
He stirs and a photograph falls from his hand face down onto the floor. I pick it up—what does a man like him hold dear? What does he clench to his heart while drinking until he passes out?
It’s him with my mother. They’re embracing, smiling, in front of the entrance to a casino. They look … happy. In love.
Why is he clutching this photograph? Perhaps his actions have plagued him for the last eighteen years. I hope so.
I place the barrel of my gun against his temple, just the way I’ve planned all these years. I hesitate, something I didn’t anticipate, and it has everything to do with Sinclair.
If I kill Thane, the mission is over and there’ll be no reason to stay. My time with Sin will be over—the last grain of sand will fall through our hourglass. I’m suddenly aware of how unprepared I am to walk away from him.
I can’t do this—not yet. I haven’t had all the time I want with Sin.
“Dammit to hell!” I take my gun away from Thane’s head. “This is your lucky day.” Only because I love your son.
I’m standing over Thane, gun in hand, when the door opens.
“What are you doing in here, lass?” Isobel asks. Her eyes move to the gun in my hand. “Where did you get that?”
I do the only thing I can. Lie. “I couldn’t sleep. I was on my way to the kitchen for a tea when I saw the light. I let myself in. I shouldn’t have but I’m glad I did. Thane was holding this. I was afraid of his intentions so I took it from him.”
“Blootered dunderheid.” She takes the gun from me, shaking her head. “I’ll see to this. Go to the living room and let’s have a whisky together. It’ll help you to sleep better than tea.”
“Please don’t mention this to Thane. I don’t want him to know I saw him like this.”
She goes to his desk and puts the gun in the top drawer. I’ll need to come back in and retrieve it before Thane finds it. “I won’t. It’ll be our little secret.”
I have a nightcap with Isobel and curse myself as I return to my room. I can’t believe I got my gun taken away. I hope Thane had lots of bourbon since I’ll be going back in after Isobel is in bed.
Once inside, I phone Harry. “Hey, Dad. I have great news. Sinclair is being discharged from the hospital tomorrow.” This isn’t a conversation we’ve rehearsed so I’m winging it.
“Is it done?”
“I’m afraid not.” I hope Harry isn’t disappointed in me.
“Nothing went wrong?” I’m glad we aren’t having a
real conversation. I’m not sure how I’d tell him there was a problem—but it was my heart.
“All is well but his recovery is going to take a little longer than expected.”
“I shouldn’t worry?” he asks.
“Not at all.”
“Okay. When you’re in the clear, call me ASAP so we can make revisions.”
“Absolutely. I’ll give Sin your best.”
I dread making that call. I don’t want to lie to Harry but there’s no way I can tell him I couldn’t go through with killing Thane because I’m in love with his son. He’d never understand that.
Sinclair is simultaneously all I could want in a man while I despise everything that makes him the person he is. I’m straddling two worlds. Love versus hate—and I’m not sure which is stronger.
Despite his dirty deeds, I think Sin is it for me—the one and only love of my life. My heart tells me so every time I look at him. The feelings I experience when we’re together are everything I’ve always imagined when I pictured myself in love, minus the part where my beloved will be the next leader of an organized crime empire.
I did not see this perfect storm coming.
Chapter Eighteen
Sinclair Breckenridge
“Would you like to lie on the couch or go to the bed?” Oh no. My mum didn’t play the coddling game and Bleu isn’t, either.
“Those are the only two choices I get?”
“Yes. The doctor says you need plenty of rest. I’m inclined to believe he knows what he’s talking about.” I guess she’s right since it’s possible he performed a miracle by bringing me back from the condition I was in a week ago.
“Will you come with me if I choose the bed?”
She tilts her head. “I will, but not for the reason you have in mind.”
That’s not what I was implying. I don’t have the stamina for sex right now—and it’s a damn shan. I’ve missed being with my Bonny Bleu. “Give me a few more days and then we’ll make up for lost time.”
She comes closer and hooks her hands behind my waist. “I look forward to that.”
“No more than me.” I kiss her mouth. “Mmm … I’ve missed that.”
“Me too.” She squeezes my midsection. “I’m happy we’re home.”
“How did you make out at my parents’? I mean, the times you weren’t holed up with me.”
A look I can’t identify crosses her face. “Your parents were very good to me—exceedingly so. As a guest, I’ve never been treated so well. That’s saying a lot since I’m from the South.” She laughs. “We’re very hospitable people.”
“I’ll need to thank them later.” I think I should probably tell her about them overhearing us at the hospital. “They know about me claiming you.”
She’s clearly surprised. “And?”
“They’re okay with it but both agree it’s a good idea to keep it to ourselves.” Especially from Abram.
She laughs and shrugs. “I don’t have anyone to tell.”
“Do you miss the friends you made at the bar?”
“Lorna was the only girl I’d consider a friend and that’s a maybe. I don’t think she cared for me much.”
She better not have mistreated my lass. “Why is that?”
“She’s in love with Leith.” Lorna has shagged Leith plenty of times but I can’t believe she has romantic feelings for him.
“Aah … and he was making moves for you.”
“Then you see the problem that made for our friendship.”
Makes total sense. “Clearly.”
“I can’t be friends with anyone within The Fellowship because they believe I’m an outsider and I can’t tell them about the one thing that designates me an insider.”
That makes for a problem in the friend department. “I see your dilemma. I’m sorry.”
“But I’ve grown close to your mother. That’s a good thing.” I like Bleu and my mum being friends.
“She taught me her version of shepherd pie and now I have a crazy craving for open roast beef sandwiches with gravy. Maybe with potatoes and carrots?”
“That sounds really good.”
“I was thinking of cooking tonight. I’m tired of hospital food and I’m guessing you are too.”
“I’ll never turn down your food.” Everything Bleu cooks is fantastic.
“You like my southern cuisine?”
“Very much.”
“To the couch with you.”
My flat has an open floor plan so I can easily lie on the couch and watch Bleu.
She’s a tough lass. Scraps as well as any man I know, probably better, yet knows how to cook a delicious meal. “Is there anything you’re not good at?”
“I can’t knit worth than a damn. My grandmother tried to teach me once. I got so frustrated I wanted to stab someone in the eye with the needle.” Why am I not surprised by this?
“Remind me to never ask you to knit me a sweater.”
She laughs and makes a stabbing motion with the fork in her hand. “Good thinking.”
* * *
We finish dinner and then watch TV until bedtime. We’re side by side doing our nightly routines, preparing for bed. It feels domestic—and comfortable.
It’s odd the things a man will think of when he believes he’s toeing the line between life and death. I was terrified to surrender to my body’s exhaustion; I believed if I closed my eyes for even a second, I’d never wake again. It was in those last moments before everything went black that I looked at Bleu and recalled the simple things—holding her after one of her nightmares, kissing the top of her head as I leave for work, listening to her breathe in the dark. Of all my fleeting thoughts, this one was my favorite—standing side by side getting ready for bed, me wearing my sleep pants and her in one of her soft, flowing nightgowns.
Bleu notices me watching her reflection. She goes still and looks at me, her toothbrush hanging from her mouth like a stogie. “What?” Her mouthful of toothpaste foams and spatters on her lips when she speaks. She spits and rinses.
“I missed this.” My eyes roam over the simple, satin nightgown clinging to her body. “Especially when you’re wearing something like that.”
She closes her robe, tying the belt at the waist. “You should probably stop looking because there will be none of that. Your body has been through hell. It needs time to heal.”
I know what will cure me. “I don’t want to stop looking.”
“This is the least sexy gown I have, but I can change into a T-shirt and yoga pants if this is going to be a problem.”
“Never.” I move over to hug her from behind, slipping my arms around her waist. “Absolutely not. I’ve missed seeing you in your pretty bedtime things.”
I kiss the side of her neck and she shudders as she leans into me. She moves her hand down my forearm and laces her fingers through mine. “I was so afraid. I thought I was going to lose you.”
“I know.” A confused look comes over her face. I decide to let that one sink in for a minute so I kiss the back of her head and leave the bathroom.
She comes out a moment later massaging in her lotion and crawls into bed next to me. She turns onto her side and looks at me. “How did you know I was afraid of losing you?”
I place my hand on her thigh, rubbing it in a circular motion. “I heard the things you said to me.”
She scrunches her brow. “What do you think I said?”
“You told me you weren’t letting go, that it wasn’t time for our story to end. ‘Let me be the reason you stay.’”
She neither denies nor confirms my account, but I don’t need her validation. I know everything she said.
She rises to a sitting position and entwines her fingers in mine. “How do you feel about the things you heard?” I think that’s an admission.
“I want to know the rest of the story.”
She rises and moves one leg over my pelvis so she’s straddling me. She leans forward, her elbows pressed into the pillow on each side of
my head, and kisses my mouth. I place my hands on her thighs and move them upward until they reach her bare cheeks. “Miss MacAllister, I believe you have forgotten your knickers.”
A mischievous grin spreads. “It seems I have.”
She moves to kneeling between my legs. She hooks her fingers into my waistband and tugs. I lift my hips and she drags my sleep pants downward.
She lowers her body to mine, bringing us close enough to touch, but she isn’t pressing her weight against me. Her nightgown is slick when she climbs upward to straddle me again. She arches back and my erection presses against her warm entrance.
I place my hands on her stomach and glide them up her silky gown. I palm her breasts, her hands covering mine, and her nipples become erect beneath my touch. Her hands move up her chest, to her shoulders, and then to the back of her neck. She lifts her long hair and holds it in a messy pile as she rotates her hips, grinding her groin against mine.
I slip my hands under her gown and she releases her hair to reach for the bottom. She pulls it over her head and discards it.
She is, without doubt, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Everything about her is perfect to me.
She holds the tip of my cock and positions it at her warm, slick entrance. She sinks down until I’m completely buried inside her. She leans back, placing her hands on my thighs for leverage, and begins moving up and down in a slow, deliberate rhythm.
I rotate my hand, palm side up, and use my fingers to find her clit. I know I’ve hit the perfect spot when a moan escapes her mouth. I start with a slow, spiraling motion and increase the speed as she moves faster. “Ohh … right there, Sin.”
It isn’t long before I realize I could be doing this too well. She may beat me to the finish line. “Are you already close?”
“Yesss!”
I won’t ask her to slow down so I begin thrusting with her. A moment later, I’m there with her when my orgasm approaches.
She sinks deep and groans, “Ohh … ohh.”