My Sinful Nights: Book One in the Sinful Men Series

by Blakely, Lauren

  Because I was falling madly in love with him a second time, and I was terrified.

  Heels clicked against the floor. Someone was walking past us. The sound of the footsteps sped up. I covered my mouth and widened my eyes, and he laughed silently.

  It was time to go, so we left, holding hands.

  As our fingers threaded together, the weight of my worries lessened. Maybe simply voicing them was what I had truly needed to move on. Oh, how I wanted to move on.

  In every way.

  And that meant letting him in. “Brent,” I whispered.

  “What is it, babe?”

  “Sometimes I worry. That it could happen again. That the shooter is in touch with people on the outside. That he knows people who could do things for him. That he wants revenge for being locked up. I worry so much that something could happen to my family,” I said, my throat closing tightly.

  He stopped, set his hands on my shoulders, and leveled me with a serious gaze. “Let me ask around. See if I can find anything out for you.”

  He wasn’t placating me. He wasn’t saying, Shhh, baby, everything’s going to be okay. Grateful he wasn’t feeding me a line, I asked, “Do you know anyone who might know?”

  “I can’t promise I’ll find anything, but I can promise I’ll ask.”

  That was a damn fine promise.

  25

  Brent

  I did know someone.

  I knew someone quite well.

  But first, we had a card game to play. Because that was how it worked with Mindy—cards and chatting, in that order.

  Today, the ace of diamonds winked at me, a mate to the ace of clubs that the dealer revealed next at a blackjack table at the Luxe. I flashed back to the card Shannon picked when I showed her my card trick. Same one. This was a lucky card, clearly.

  “I’ll split,” I said to the goateed dealer. Together, my two aces were a bust. Torn apart, they gave me a second chance in the game.

  “I’ve got a very important question for you,” Mindy said, as the dealer laid a three on top of her eight.

  “Hit me,” I said to my friend, and she rolled her eyes at the pun.

  Mindy adopted a girly, lovestruck tone. “Have you thought about what you’re going to wear tonight to Alvin Ailey?” She batted her eyes and squeezed my arm. “It’s such a big decision.”

  “Bow tie. Seersucker suit,” I said with a straight face, as the dealer slapped two new cards face up for me, and one for Mindy.

  “And a panama hat. That’d be a nice touch,” she added, as I stared happily at my new cards. Eight and a nine. Didn’t get much better than that. But I wasn’t just here to win a hand. I needed to talk to her. Mindy knew stuff about Vegas.

  I called her the queen for a reason. She was the queen of this city.

  “Or, call me crazy, I could just go with jeans and a nice button-down shirt,” I said, as we finished the hand, with me winning.

  “You lucky bastard,” Mindy said with a low whistle.

  Lucky. Was I lucky? In some ways I was. But I wanted to be more than lucky. I wanted to show Shannon I was determined.

  Scooping up the chips, I tipped an imaginary hat to her. “And on that note, you ready to chat?”

  “Sure. Thanks a lot. You killed me there, taking all the good cards. Now you want to steal my intel,” she muttered, after we said goodbye to the dealer and weaved our way through the tables.

  “Yes, that’s what I want. Your brainpower. Got a price tag on that?”

  26

  Mindy

  I would share my brainpower freely.

  Because if there was one thing I craved deeply in life, it was justice.

  And justice required knowledge.

  In my field, I had to stay abreast of the goings-on in this city. It was my job, and it was my cause. “You know I’ll tell you anything you want to know. There’s never a price. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

  He scrubbed a hand across his jaw and heaved a sigh. “Royal Sinners,” he said in a hiss.

  I’d had a feeling that was what he wanted to discuss. Since he’d started seeing Shannon again, I’d done my best to dig around so I’d be ready for this moment.

  “You know people everywhere. Have you heard anything about them?” Brent added.

  We slowed our pace, stopping by the cages as I answered, “They went kind of quiet for a while there. A few years ago. Were you aware of that?”

  He shook his head. “I honestly hadn’t tracked the comings and goings of the gang culture.”

  I flashed a don’t you worry grin. “But I have. Here’s what I know. Five or six years ago, it seemed like they’d kind of fallen apart.” I continued, lowering my voice, “But I hear they’re trying to become active again. Recruiting new members. Hitting the streets with drugs, tagging, fights over territory.”

  He clenched his fists, visibly seething. “Should I be worried? For her? For her family now?”

  I squeezed his shoulder. “I don’t think so. At least not yet.”

  “Why?” He sounded so desperate, and I had to help.

  I took a breath. “When you started seeing her again, I did a little digging into Stefano with some of the guys I know on the force.”

  “You did?”

  “Don’t sound so surprised. You know I have your back,” I said, and I did. I always had the back of my friends, and Brent Nichols was solid. After my tour of duty ended, when it was my fiancé’s turn to serve and he never came home, Brent saw me through the heartache and the loss. He helped me find some semblance of happiness again, through friendships, cards, and his comedy routines.

  “I know you do,” he said, offering a fist for knocking. “And I’m damn grateful.”

  I knocked back, then told him all I knew. “A couple of my friends on the force were active when it all went down. I checked in with them, and they say that, yes, Stefano was tight with some of the Sinners at the time, a few in particular, but there are some rumblings now that maybe that’s changed.”

  Brent nodded, processing this detail. “Sure, prison changes things,” he said, coolly, taking it in.

  I dialed down the volume even more. You never knew who might be listening. “My sources also said Stefano’s girlfriend disappeared too around then. The authorities wanted to question her to see what she knew about the Sinners, but couldn’t find her. Anyway, those were just the things I was told. There is some noise that not everyone’s entirely happy with what’s gone down since Stefano was locked up, but it doesn’t seem to be over Thomas Paige, and no one is looking to take vengeance on the Sloans.”

  He sighed deeply. “That’s all?”

  I patted his shoulder, wishing I could be 100 percent reassuring. But stone-cold certainty was unlikely, especially with this type of criminal.

  Bars didn’t hold them back when they knew people on the outside. And when people might not be happy with the guys on the inside.

  Or vice versa.

  Still, I gave him my best reassurance and advice, what I believed. “Let’s hope so. But let’s also keep our eyes open.”

  “Yeah, that’s what we have to do.”

  27

  Brent

  I headed to my office, needing the relentless focus on contracts, deals, and plans to erase the cold, metallic taste that the discussion of gangs had left in my mouth. Nothing against Mindy—I’d rather know the details than not know them. But I was ready for that part of Shannon’s past to stay firmly closed and never interfere with her future.

  Focus on the present. Focus on today. Focus on tonight.

  The trouble was, the conversation gnawed at me. I opened a browser window and searched Google for news on “Royal Sinners.” I read a few articles—drug busts and convictions here and there. I dug around some more, dropping in every permutation I could find for “Jerry Stefano and girlfriend,” but the internet wasn’t serving up anything about the two of them from nearly two decades ago.

  Like Mindy had said, the gang seemed to have petere
d out for a bit. This had to be a good thing—the gunman Shannon’s mother had hired hailed from a gang that had dwindled in power and was now focused on drugs, something completely removed from Shannon’s father’s death.

  Maybe this would be enough to give Shannon some solace, though I wasn’t sure she’d ever have any.

  But at least I could give her something I hadn’t been able to in college. The night she wanted.

  I shut the browser, parked my boots on my desk, and rang my buddy who ran the Luxe hotel chain. After Nate and I caught up briefly on work and business, I made my request. “Hey, man, you know anyone at this hotel who can score me a nice suite last-minute on a Saturday night in Vegas? Happy to pay top dollar.”

  Maybe it was wishful thinking. Maybe it was just some mad hope. Or perhaps I simply wanted to be prepared for any and all possible outcomes tonight.

  Nate laughed loudly. “You hoping to get lucky at my property this evening?”

  “I’m always hoping to get lucky,” I said.

  “I’ll take care of you. Stop by ops on the way out to see my property manager. Alfonso will get you a key,” he said.

  “I owe you,” I said.

  “I owe you. Your club is driving up business like crazy. It’s like a goddamn slot machine that pays off every time,” Nate said, and I grinned. That was what I liked to hear. Edge was indeed the golden goose. I zeroed in on that thought while I worked for another hour, then checked the time. I needed to head home and get ready to pick up my date in a town car.

  On the way out through the casino, Tanner’s name flashed across my phone screen. I nearly crossed my fingers, praying the man wouldn’t say something to ruin my Saturday.

  “Hey, Tanner. What’s up?”

  “Meeting was moved up. Gotta do lunch instead of dinner,” Tanner barked.

  My shoulders tensed. “Tomorrow? What’s the deal?”

  “The neighborhood association president, Alan Hughes, has to drive his daughter to summer camp on Sunday night, so dinner won’t work. Only lunch. But listen, I think I’ve got him fluffed nicely for you.”

  Fluffed. The man actually used a porn term. “So he’s leaning our way?”

  “It’s looking like that. See? I told you I’d be good for you. I bet you want to pay me extra on the lease each month, don’t you?” Tanner said with a raspy laugh.

  This man was a piece of work. “Glad to hear it’s looking promising with Alan,” I said, avoiding the other comment. I flashed briefly to the conversation with Bob from the comedy club, who’d been getting fleeced by his landlord too. Fingers crossed that this meeting tomorrow would send us all down the right path. I could continue the expansion of Edge, and Bob would have the new job he needed to pay his bills.

  “Be here by noon, got it? Same location. McCoy’s.”

  “See you tomorrow,” I said, then sighed heavily in frustration as I hung up.

  This would put a crimp in my plans.

  I called my assistant and asked her to change my flight from the morning to the midnight red-eye to New York. That gave me two hours with Shannon after the show ended.

  Make that one hour, since I’d need an hour to get to the airport and through security. I set an alarm on my phone just in case, then picked up a key from Alfonso.

  Wishful thinking for sure at this point. But sometimes you had to roll the dice.

  28

  Shannon

  My oldest brother finished screwing in the hinge on my loose closet door, then flipped the screwdriver in the air like a cocky juggler, and dropped it in his pocket.

  “Good as new,” he declared.

  “Rock star,” I said, then curtsied.

  “I am indeed.” He looked at his watch. “Speaking of, I better get going. I have a set tonight,” he deadpanned.

  I laughed. “You wish.”

  “I did wish once upon a time to be a rocker,” he said, serious now.

  I squeezed his arm. “I know you did. And now you’re the best damn security guy in the country.”

  He blew on his fingernails. “True that. And no regrets.”

  I gave him a hug. “Seriously though. Thanks for stopping by. I appreciate it.”

  “I’ll be your handyman as long as you need me, Shan.” He fixed me with an intense stare. “How is everything going with the partnership? You managing that okay?”

  Tension ramped up in me. Michael had been out of town for work for the week, and I hadn’t had a chance to tell him Brent and I were seeing each other again.

  I hadn’t said a word to him last weekend at my grandmother’s house, but I hadn’t known then that I’d actually be dating—seriously dating—my ex-fiancé. Now I was, and I didn’t like cloaking my life in lies around my brothers.

  Colin knew, and it was time to tell Michael too.

  I steeled myself for his reaction. Of all my brothers, he’d been the biggest fan of Brent, and then hated him the most when we split.

  I could still hear the sting of Michael’s comment in the airport when I flew home to see him that night. Bastard.

  I cleared my throat. “I’m going out with Brent tonight. I’m seeing him again.”

  He froze. Furrowed his brow. “Pretty sure I just heard you wrong,” he said slowly. “Say that again.”

  “I’m seeing Brent. Dating him,” I added. I didn’t need to add that tonight I planned to sleep with him.

  “I thought you were just doing business with his clubs,” he said, taking time with each word, as if he could re-stitch them into a pattern that made sense.

  “I thought so too. But then it turned into something more.”

  “How? How did it turn into something more? Last time we spoke, it was just an apology for walking away, and it became . . . dating again?”

  I swallowed roughly, then spoke the truth. “I care deeply for him. And he does for me. We’re trying to do things differently this time around.”

  He blew out a long stream of air. “I’m . . . surprised. You were pretty damn clear ten years ago that you never wanted to see him again. You told all of us—me, Ryan, Colin. You made it abundantly clear he was persona non grata.”

  “I didn’t want to see him then. But that was ten years ago, Michael. Things have changed. I told you that the other night.”

  “I get it. He didn’t cheat. That is fantastic. But what about everything else?”

  I didn’t want to serve up all my feelings for everyone to judge. It was hard enough to say them to Brent, let alone to my big brother. Some things were personal. Some things were private. Like the fact that I was falling again for someone who was tender and kind, rough and fiery, funny and sexy, and who only had eyes for me.

  Someone who was putting me first.

  But I didn’t have the luxury of keeping this entirely to myself. Michael had looked out for me, and I owed him honesty.

  “Everything else is what’s changing,” I said, nerves swirling inside me, hoping he’d see where I was coming from.

  “Shan,” he said in a heated whisper, as if that was the only thing keeping him from shouting, and he never shouted. He never raised his voice. He stayed in control of his emotions at all times. “If he hurts you again . . .”

  I shook my head adamantly. “He won’t.”

  “He better not,” Michael said, then wrapped his strong arms around me. “If he does, he’ll have to answer to me.”

  I smiled as I rested my face against his chest. “And no one wants to have to deal with you.”

  “Damn straight.”

  29

  Brent

  Cool white lobby. Etched glass on the double doors. Sleek blond wood floors and stairs that matched.

  I drank it all in.

  Her building. Her home.

  In the light of day, I recorded the details, wanting to remember them.

  It was as if I’d gained entry to a secret castle, to the tower at the top of it. Follow this path, take the fork in the road, and climb all the way up. At the top, there she will be.
<
br />   The woman I wanted.

  The only woman for me.

  The soles of my shoes echoed on the steps as I walked up the three flights to her place, staring left, then looking right, inhaling everything. For so long, I’d searched for her. I’d tried to picture her, to imagine her life, her home, and her place in the world.

  Right here. I was in it. Mere feet from where Shannon Paige-Prince had lived for the last few years. Only a handful of miles away from my home. I turned the corner on the next landing and lifted my foot on the step, then I froze.

  I didn’t move. I was stuck in a sliver of stalled time.

  Michael walked down the stairs. His eyes were like razors. His jaw twitched. The sound of his shoes clanged loudly in my ears, snapping me back to attention.

  I unfroze.

  “Hey, Michael,” I said, doing my best to keep it casual, keep it chill. “Good to see you again.”

  I hadn’t spoken to him since he’d helped me get the ring from his grandmother a decade ago.

  Michael’s dark eyes stared at me. He raised his left hand, clapped it on my arm. But it wasn’t at all a friendly pat. It didn’t say Good to see you too, man. His hand sent another message: Do not fuck with my family.

  Michael spoke, low but powerful. “My sister is one of the most important people in the world to me. I swear . . .” he said, letting his voice trail off like the smoke from a fired gun. I parted my lips to say something, anything, but Michael left me no room. This was not a conversation. It was a speech. “You have no idea how devastated she was. I’m not even talking about for herself. I’m talking about you. When you didn’t fight for—”

  I held up a hand. “I know, man. And I am sorry. And I have told her that.”

  Michael didn’t even acknowledge the words. “And if you do it again, you will know a new kind of hell. I will not hurt you with fists, because I am not that kind of man, but I will make sure you are fucked in this town. I will do whatever it takes to protect my sister from getting hurt again, from you, and from anyone. Is that clear?”