Mr. Sin: Book One of the Sin Series

by S. J. Tilly

  The doctor makes a note on Annie’s chart before standing. “Alright, Miss Mazzanti, you are free to go home and get some rest. Remember to stay hydrated and to take it easy. We’ll be calling to follow up with you tomorrow.”

  My mother nods. “Thank you, doctor.”

  “Yes, thank you.” I say automatically.

  He gives us a soft smile. “She’ll be alright physically.”

  I know what he’s saying. Her body will recover quicker than her mind.

  “We understand, doctor.” I tell him.

  With one final smile, he leaves the room.

  “Dad?” Annie grabs my hand. “Will you stay here?”

  “Here?” My brows furrow.

  Her big eyes blink up at me. “Yeah. I think you should stay with Sasha. She should have someone waiting for her.”

  Just when I think my heart can’t take anymore…

  I pull Annie into a hug. “Are you sure?”

  She nods and a glance at my mom shows she agrees.

  I know how guilty and angry my mom’s feeling right now. Annie was in her care when Randal got to her. None of this is her fault, but no matter what I say, she won’t stop apologizing. It’ll be good for both of them to spend time together.

  “Okay.” I squeeze Annie tighter. “Okay.”

  CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE

  VINCENT

  T hree hours.

  Sasha’s been in surgery for three fucking hours.

  While Annie was getting discharged, Angelo worked his magic. Or rather he called Uncle Enzo, who called the Governor, who called the director of the hospital, who called the hardass nurse, who finally told me where I could go sit and wait.

  That’s it. Just wait. And wait.

  I know that Sasha’s in surgery and that it’s critical. But that’s all I know. I’ve tried bullying my way into more information. Begging. Bribing. Ultimately, I was told that there’s no more news to tell until the surgeons finish. So, I have to wait. And hope.

  Angelo’s never far away. Even though Randal’s dead, and the threat is gone, Angelo has a full four-man crew with him. That makes five huge men in suits plus me, my all-black tux soaked in blood. Right now we look exactly like the gangster family we’re trying not to be.

  But it’s still better than it could have been. Uncle Enzo couldn’t have picked a better week to return to Minneapolis. He has the connections that we need to get through this mess quickly. Without him I’d probably be stuck in a police station answering questions rather than sitting here in the hospital. We turned over all of the security footage from tonight to the police. It’s clearly self-defense. I might’ve gone a little overboard kicking the fucker out the window, but since he didn’t crush anyone when he landed Uncle Enzo will clear me from that too.

  Raised voices drag my attention across the room.

  Standing from my chair, I see someone pushing through Angelo’s wall of guards. When the man’s face comes into view, I recognize him immediately.

  “Let him through.” My words are scratchy but loud enough to be heard.

  Special Agent John Clark shrugs off the hand on his arm, then locks eyes with me.

  “Vincent Mazzanti.” His tone is ugly. And I deserve it.

  John cuts the distance between us in a few long strides. He’s nearly my height, a little thinner, but fit. And he’s pissed.

  I expect the punch, but I make no move to block it. I’m so numb already that I hardly feel the knuckles as they connect with my cheekbone.

  I don’t block the second hit either.

  John’s chest is heaving, more from anguish than exertion.

  “Hey!” Angelo shouts, reaching out for John. And I can see at least two of the other guys pulling out their concealed weapons.

  “It’s alright.” I hold my hands out. They make no move to back off, so I steel my voice. “Stand down.”

  John, completely unconcerned with the danger around him, stays focused on me.

  Angelo steps closer. “You sure, boss?”

  I use the back of my hand to wipe the blood off my lip. “This is Sasha’s brother.”

  Hearing her name, John lets out a pained sound. “I told you what would happen if she got hurt because of you. I fucking told you!” He shoves me with both hands.

  I take a step back. I won’t fight him. I won’t even stop him if he tries to kill me. Hell, if I’m the reason that Sasha dies, I’ll invite it.

  I choke just thinking of the word. It’s like John can see my thoughts because between one breath and the next, the fight leaves him. And we’re left just standing there, two broken men.

  “Which one of you is Vincent?” A new male voice asks.

  We all turn to face a doctor, dressed in full surgery scrubs.

  “I am.”

  John steps up next to me but stays silent.

  The doctor runs his eyes over the group of imposing men before focusing back on me. “The bullet caused a lot of internal damage, but she’s stable now and out of surgery…”

  I don’t hear anymore. When my back hits the wall, my legs give out. A sob gets stuck in my throat as I slide to the floor. My forehead drops against my knees and I cup my hands behind my head.

  She’s alive.

  My girl is alive.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY

  SASHA

  S hit.

  I feel… heavy. My body aches, but it’s dull. Almost like I’m feeling someone else’s pain. And there’s a humming sound. Like machines. But that’s weird, right?

  I’m so tired. So goddamn tired. I try to open my eyes, but I can’t. I just can’t.

  I’ll sleep a little bit longer.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE

  SASHA

  M y lungs expand with a quick inhale. Memories flood into my consciousness and pull me the rest of the way out of dreamland. Shot. I was fucking shot.

  With my eyes still shut, I force awareness into my body as I try to wiggle my fingers and toes. The signal from my brain to my extremities is slower than it should be, but all my parts react. I exhale a relieved breath. I don’t remember the exact moment of impact, but I vaguely remember collapsing. I don’t even know where I was shot, but I’m glad it wasn’t in the spine.

  I’m pretty sure that I’m drugged. I assume I’ll be in a lot of pain when it wears off. And wow, moving my toes was exhausting. I want to fall back asleep. But I can’t yet. Not until I know if everyone is okay.

  Taking a moment, I fortify my resolve.

  With an alarming amount of effort, I force my eyes to flutter open. My vision swims, but the room is blessedly dim. It takes a few blinks for my eyes to focus as I stare at the ceiling. A few slow breaths help the sudden wave of nausea pass.

  I don’t think I have the energy to look around. This might be all I get right now. I just wish I could see Vincent. I need to see him, then I’ll rest.

  I whisper his name. “Vincent.”

  My brain is still fuzzy and slow, but I hear the gasp that comes from somewhere next to me.

  “Sasha? Baby?” A chair scrapes across the floor, then Vincent’s face appears above my own.

  He looks terrible. And still he’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

  “Sasha.” One of his hands grips my own, while the other gently strokes my hair.

  There’s so much emotion in his voice, it nearly suffocates me.

  “Annie?” Is all I can get out.

  A look passes over Vincent’s face a moment before tears start sliding down his cheeks. My eyes widen but before I can freak out, he nods. “She’s fine. Annie is fine.” Vincent dips down, resting his forehead against mine. “Because of you. You saved my daughter. My Annie. You could have died, but you saved her. I can never repay you for what you did. You saved her.”

  Vincent pulls back enough so he can look me in the eyes. “I love you, Sasha. I love you so much. Fuck. I was so scared. I can’t live in a world where you don’t exist.”

  Tears form instantly in my eyes. This wonderful man
. I love him so much. I'd hoped I’d hear those words from him, but I thought I’d missed my chance.

  “I love you, too.” I don’t think my throat makes the sound, but Vincent reads the words on my lips.

  He leans down and presses the softest kiss to the corner of my mouth.

  “Well, hell. Guess I can’t kill him now.” Says a voice, that isn’t Vincent’s.

  Still holding my hand, Vincent eases back so I can see the man standing on the other side of my bed.

  My mouth drops open. John?

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO

  VINCENT

  I ’ve been sitting next to this bed for hours. The doctors said she’d recover. They assured me that she’d be okay. But a part of me didn’t believe them. A part of me thought that she’d never wake up. That she’d leave me.

  But she did wake up. She’s here. She’s going to be okay. And she loves me.

  My exhausted body is filled with too many warring emotions. Relief, concern, love. I’ve been on the brink of losing it since I first raced out of that ballroom, but I can’t lose it yet. I need to stay strong. But all I really want to do is crawl into Sasha’s bed and hold her warm body against mine while she sleeps. But I won’t fit in her bed, so I have to keep my stressed-out ass in this shitty chair.

  I watch as John gently places a hand on her shoulder. He’s being so careful with her. Whispering how worried he was. Telling her never to frighten him like that again.

  I knew that they had a solid relationship, but - being here, seeing this - it’s obvious how much they care for each other.

  Sasha opens her mouth to say something but before any sound comes out, she closes it again. She might be in pain.

  “Get the doctor.” I tell John, not taking my eyes off Sasha.

  I swear I hear his teeth grind as he points an angry finger in my direction. “I’ll get the doctor because Sasha needs him. Not because you fucking told me to. I’m not going to turn into one of your brainless little minions.”

  For the first time in hours, I feel the smallest hint of a smile trying to form on my mouth. “That’s a shame.”

  Sasha’s eyelids are drooping, but she looks peaceful. And amused.

  When the door shuts behind John, I kiss the back of her hand. “I know, sweetheart. John and I in the same room is a bit of an adjustment. Bet you didn’t see that coming.”

  With the smallest movement, I watch as she shakes her head.

  I smirk and tilt my face so she can see the bruise that’s starting to form on my cheek. “He’s a bit of a bully.”

  Sasha’s eyes flare and her lips part just as the door opens, letting John back in. Sasha does her best impression of an angry glare.

  John sees her expression and freezes. “What?”

  Sasha’s voice is quiet, but we both hear it. “You hit my boyfriend?”

  Now I’m grinning.

  He slides his narrowed eyes at me.

  The doctor chooses that moment to walk in.

  John and I both reluctantly step back from Sasha’s bed so the doctor can check her over. At this point, we’re used to being silent around each other. We’ve been in this room, watching Sasha, for hours. Wordlessly, we took turns getting coffee, making sure she was never alone. John might hate me, but I actually find myself liking him. Anyone this dedicated to Sasha is good in my book.

  Once the quick exam is over, the doctor helps Sasha take a sip of water before turning to us. “You need to let her rest.”

  He doesn’t say more, knowing that there’s no chance in hell that we’ll leave. But we will let her sleep.

  When the doctor’s gone, I take my place again in the chair at Sasha’s side. I grab her hand and lean against the edge of her bed.

  She gives my fingers a faint squeeze before looking at John. “Will you stay for a while?”

  “I can do one better. I received the approval about an hour ago.” It’s his turn to smirk. “I’m moving back. Permanently.”

  Well, shit.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE

  SASHA

  “S

  weetheart, you have a visitor.”

  Vincent’s soft words wake me from my nap. I prefer to think of it as a nap and not the drug induced coma that it probably is.

  I blink my eyes open. “Who is it?”

  My voice is scratchy, and without me needing to ask, Vincent brings the straw from the water cup up to my lips. I take a sip, savoring the cool liquid.

  Vincent clears his throat. “It’s Cheryl.”

  His eyes search mine, looking for a reaction. I take a fortifying inhale and nod. I knew I’d have to face my boss sooner or later. And honestly, hopped up on intravenous painkillers is probably the best way to deal with this conversation. Vincent’s been extremely selective on who he’s allowing into my room, so he must agree.

  “Let her in.” Vincent says loud enough for Eric to hear, who’s been sitting guard outside my door.

  Vincent grips my hand as Cheryl steps into my room.

  “Oh, Sasha.” It’s been a few days since everything went down, but it still looks like she might cry.

  I give her a small smile. “Hi, Cheryl.”

  She looks back and forth between Vincent and I. Her eyes lingering on our joined hands.

  Turning to Vincent, I speak quietly. “You can step out for a bit.”

  His eyebrow raises into that cocky look of his. “I’ll stay.”

  If I had the energy, I’d flick him on the nose.

  “Please, don’t make him go on my behalf.” Cheryl shakes her head. “I won’t stay long. I know you need to rest.”

  With my free hand I gesture to an open chair. “You can sit if you’d like.”

  She waves the offer away and clears her throat. “I’ve been so worried. I just had to come and see you for myself. When it happened…” Losing her stiff composure, Cheryl steps forward and drops into the empty chair. “The ambulance showed up before we knew anything was even wrong. And then… I saw you… on the stretcher.” Cheryl’s voice cracks. “My heart nearly stopped.”

  I extend my hand and she takes it. “I’m okay. I promise.”

  “I can see that.” Her mouth turns up into a hint of a smile. “Mr. Mazzanti here has been taking good care of you. I don’t know if he told you, but I’ve stopped by every day.”

  I look to Vincent, and he just shrugs. “You needed to rest, baby.”

  I cringe a little at him calling me baby in front of Cheryl.

  She catches my reaction and chuckles.

  “Oh, that cat has been out of the bag since the gala.” Cheryl tells me. “Well, I had a sneaking suspicion before then, but I have to commend you two on your ability to keep things professional.” When I blush, she adds, “At least in front of others.”

  “I’m sorry.” I say and Vincent lets out a small growl. I squeeze his fingers before continuing. “I’m sorry for the deception, and for potentially putting the company’s reputation at risk. But I can’t say that I’m sorry about falling in love with the client. Even if he is the real-life Mr. Sin.”

  Cheryl’s beams at me as she brushes a tear off her cheek. “Oh, you two. I just love love.” She lets out a big sigh before rising. “Okay, I’ll get out of your hair. If there’s anything I can do, please let me know. And of course, take as much time off as you need.”

  “Thank you.”

  When Cheryl pulls the door open, the sound of giggles float into the room.

  Cheryl rolls her eyes. “Jessica is here, too. But I think she’s gotten herself thoroughly distracted by your bodyguard.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR

  SASHA

  T hirteen days. Thirteen long-ass days of never being alone. Not once.

  I know Vincent is just being protective, acting as though someone might come and try to finish the job that Randal started. But he’s officially gone off the deep end. And I’m about to lose my mind.

  If Vincent absolutely had to be somewhere other than the hospital, he’d make sure tha
t John was in my room. Even after nearly two weeks of seeing them together, it’s still strange to see my brother interact with Vincent. John is holding fast to the claim that he hates Vincent, but I can see their friendship forming. Even when Vincent’s being annoying as hell, he’s an easy man to love.

  On the very few occasions that both Vincent and John were unavailable, I had Marie and Annie in my room. I think Eric must have a sleeping bag out in the hall somewhere, because he’s never more than 30 seconds away. Any time I’ve called for him, he’s been there. And more than once, I’ve woken up to find the hulking form of Angelo sitting in the corner of my room. I only screamed the first time that happened.

  As if all that isn’t bad enough, Vincent has held meetings, as in plural, in my actual freaking hospital room. The first time I found Vincent, Brent, Angelo, Eric, two other guys from security, and a random manager I couldn’t make eye contact with, all crowded around my bed, I threw an absolute fit. I thought I was convincing. I know I was inventive with my cursing. But when I finished, Vincent just smiled, kissed my head, and told me that he loved me. I wanted to kill him.

  There was even that time when I thought I could escape Vincent’s ever-watchful eyes by hiding in my bathroom. I don’t know what sort of money Vincent shelled out, but my recovery room looks like it belongs in a five-star hotel, not a hospital. Usually I’d fight against getting special treatment, but the bathroom alone is worth whatever cost Vincent paid. It’s still clinical, but it’s large and boasts a real door.

  When I was free from all my wires and tubes, and able to shuffle across the room on my own, I started to take advantage of the privacy. Seeing the opportunity one afternoon, I brought a book into the bathroom with me and just sat on the shower chair. I was only in there for ten minutes before Vincent opened the door and walked right in. No knock. And no need to pick a lock since there isn’t a lock to begin with.

  Once again outraged, I asked what he would have done if I had been on the toilet. He just rolled his eyes and told me everyone poops as if that were enough of an explanation for invading my privacy. More cursing took place, but it had no effect on his behavior.