Burn (The Sinclair Falls Novels Book 1)

by Shae Mallak

"What happened?" I asked. "What did he do?"

  "What did who do?" Jonah grumbled. He opened his computer and typed a quick email, hitting send with a little too much force.

  "My dad," I sighed. "I know that voice I heard on the phone—I know that look you have on your face. What did he do?"

  Jonah scowled at the computer screen for a few moments before slamming the laptop shut. It was a good thing he was rich because he seemed determined to break everything he owned.

  "We're going into town," Jonah muttered.

  "We?" I asked, completely confused.

  "Yes, we," he barked. "I have business to take care of and I'm not leaving you up here alone. So we are going into town."

  "What did he do?" I repeated firmly.

  Jonah finally stopped stomping around the house and stood in front of me, staring down at me silently for what felt like forever. Then in a sudden, quick movement he grabbed me by the shoulders and leaned down to press a hungry, fierce kiss to my lips. I was so shocked at first I forgot to be mad about it.

  His mouth burned against mine, his fingers digging into me like he was branding my shoulders with his fingerprints. My senses overwhelmed, all I could feel or see or smell was Jonah; in that moment, he was my entire world. Then he pulled away, taking two large steps back and stared at me with heavy-lidded eyes.

  "God, don't stop now," I murmured. What was wrong with me?! What happened to the rational side of my brain? The thin mountain air must be impairing my judgment because I knew normal-me wouldn't say something like that—wouldn't be breathless from kissing Jonah and begging him to do it again.

  "Can't," he said. It sounded like the word was being ripped from his throat against his will. Neither of us moved for several minutes, staring at each other as our breath evened out and our senses cleared. "I have business in town," he said finally. "You're not staying here by yourself." I nodded and silently followed him outside to the car. I had an hour-long drive down the mountain to think about what the hell just happened.

  ELEVEN

  The car was silent for the trip back into town, not even radio static to fill the void. Jonah was gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles as he flew down the mountain through the twists and turns of the road. I knew better than to ask him again about whatever my father did to earn his ire, instead gripping the edges of my seat and watching the scenery whiz by in a blur of color.

  We made it to Sinclair Falls in record time just before sunset. Jonah turned down main street but drove past the business district and headed for the old downtown. I glanced at him warily; old downtown was known as the crime capital of Sinclair Falls. No one ventured down there unless they were looking for trouble. Or bailing someone out of it, in our case.

  "Couple of rules," Jonah eventually said as we rolled past dirty, dilapidated buildings. "This is important, Ev, so please listen to me," he pleaded. The desperation in his voice surprised me; I swallowed the lump of fear that lodged in my throat and slowly nodded. "You will remain glued to my side unless I tell you otherwise," he said. "Do not say anything, no matter what you see or hear—unless someone is trying to harm you, then you scream as loud as you can. I will do all the talking; if someone asks you a question, don't answer. Do you understand, Evelyn?" he asked seriously.

  "Yes," I nodded again, feeling like a bobble-head doll. I may not have been from the rich side of town by any means but old downtown was enough to scare me into submission. If I knew one thing for sure, it was that Jonah Carson was a man I would rather have for me than against me. No matter what else I felt for him—hate or lust or whatever else—that part, at least, never changed.

  "Good," he replied. "It's not my first choice, bringing you down here, Ev, but it'd be just as dangerous to leave you alone up there. I would rather have you next to me where I can see you to protect you."

  I didn't respond, staring at the building where we parked. It was old brick that had been whitewashed at some point, although from the look of it that was some time ago. A faded sign hung above a steel door that read, "Hal's Warehouse" and underneath was printed "Supplying Quality Since—" Someone had spray-painted over the date and next to it wrote in large, green letters, "fuck you" with a crude drawing of a dick. A real classy joint.

  "Where are we, exactly?" I asked softly.

  The streets we passed had been littered with people—grungy, homeless-looking people who eyed Jonah's car greedily. The street we parked on, however, was empty. A filthy man in a raincoat and a beanie hat popped his head out of an alley and stared at the car for several seconds before scurrying down the street in the opposite direction, limping awkwardly, then disappeared into another building.

  Jonah was scowling at the building like it personally wronged him. "Kinney's Den of Sin," he answered. He turned in his seat and pinned me with a dead-serious look. "Stay close to me," he warned again.

  "Promise," I whispered. I never heard of Kinney's Den of Sin before but by the look of it—and based on the name of the place—I could hazard a good guess what sort of business they did. Nothing legal, I was certain. I suppressed a shiver and wished I didn't have to go inside. But if he wasn't going to leave me alone at the glass cottage, he certainly wasn't going to leave me alone in the car in the middle of the worst area in town.

  Jonah got out of the car and made me wait for him to come around and let me out. He wasn't taking any chances. He took my hand, gripping the briefcase with the other and weaving his fingers between mine. He held on fast like he was holding onto a lifeline and together we approached the front door.

  He knocked twice, paused, then knocked twice again. A speaker somewhere crackled for a moment before we heard an intelligible voice. "What do you want, Carson?" someone griped.

  "Business with Mr. Kinney," Jonah shouted, craning his neck to address a camera I didn't notice before. It was outdated but well-hidden in the shadows of the fire escape.

  "Who's the dame?" the voice demanded.

  "Mine," Jonah replied fiercely, glaring at the camera. He pulled on my hand and I stumbled into his shoulder.

  There was a loud buzzing and then the door in front of us cracked open just enough to reveal a pasty white hand decorated with large gold rings, one on each finger, curl around the edge. The doorman didn't say anything or open the door any wider.

  "Reggie," Jonah acknowledged with a threatening snarl.

  "Joe," the doorman grumbled back.

  The door swung open the rest of the way and Jonah tugged me inside, keeping me close, my shoulder rubbing against his arm as we walked. If it wasn't for the situation, I would've stepped away or glared at him—or both. But, under the circumstances, I felt a lot safer rubbing elbows with Jonah than playing nice with Reggie.

  The hallway we walked down was covered in graffiti like the sign outside, a mixture of words and drawings, most of them just as crude. I did notice, however, a strange symbol repeated, always in red. It wasn't a symbol I recognized, a weird morph of an upside-down star and what looked like claws, cradled in a crescent moon.

  "Long time, Joe," Reggie commented with a little sneer. The two obviously knew each other, although there was no evidence of a friendship between them in any way. I wasn't sure if it boded well for us or not. I hoped for the former.

  "You haven't changed a bit, I see," Jonah replied. "Still licking at the heels of your betters." Reggie growled like a lazy dog threatening the mailman, not putting full effort into the threat but unwilling to let the slight pass unacknowledged.

  "Kinney will skin you alive, you know," Reggie said. "You and your girl."

  Quicker than my eyes could follow, Jonah released his grip on my hand, whirled around and clamped it around Reggie's neck, glaring at him with murder in his eyes.

  "No one lays a hand on her," he growled. He shoved Reggie against the wall, dragging him up off the ground and letting his feet dangle. I heard something crack when he hit the wall and Reggie winced, releasing a guttural groan that barely escaped Jonah's death grip.

 
I bit my lip to keep from letting out the girlish shriek at his sudden violence. Wide-eyed, Reggie nodded vigorously and grunted out an apology before Jonah released him, shoving him in front of us to lead the way. Reggie gasped, stumbling forward a few steps and reaching to touch the back of his head, his hand coming away bloody. I gasped then quickly clamped my hand over my mouth at Jonah's disapproving look. He clasped my hand again and we followed after the pale doorman in silence.

  Reggie led us down a dim flight of stairs and down another even darker hallway, stopping in front of a plain wooden door with more graffiti—the same strange, red symbol from before. Reggie knocked three times and shouted for someone named Minnie. The door cracked open a few inches and a haggard face with thick eyeliner and bright red lipstick blinked back at us.

  "Carson's here for his hanging," Reggie murmured, still rubbing the back of his sore head. "And he brought a guest." Reggie nodded in my direction.

  The door opened wider, revealing the rest of the woman on the other side. She looked to be in her early forties with boney hips and a flat chest, all of which was wrapped in a dingy, revealing red dress. She eyed me and all my curves from top to bottom then sneered up at Jonah.

  "Really?" she muttered. "This one?" She pointed a sharp red fingernail at me. Jonah growled at her and she held up her hands in surrender. "Whatever, Joe," she shrugged. "But she seems awfully clean for your taste." She said it like it was an insult.

  How did all these people know Jonah? I knew Jonah's business rode the line of shady, but I never actually suspected him of flat-out crime—and I had no doubt that was exactly what Reggie and Minnie were part of. And, I thought gloomily, maybe my dad too.

  "Move, Minnie," Jonah glowered at her.

  "You're funeral, Joe," she scoffed, standing aside to let us through to the cluttered room beyond. It was a maze of old and broken furniture, piles of newspapers and magazines, and littered with trash. Someone had a serious hoarding problem.

  Minnie swatted Jonah on the ass when he passed and his head snapped around, a fierce growl rumbling out from his chest.

  "Oh please, your bark don't scare me, Joe," she laughed, patting him affectionately on the shoulder. "I've already felt your bite," she added with a wink.

  My stomach soured at her innuendo; for some reason I hated the idea of another woman touching him the way she implied. Not that I did anything more than share a heated kiss, a strange game of strip poker, and a few tingling brushes of fingers. I had no right to be jealous but it was definitely the ugly feeling that was twisting my insides.

  Of course Jonah had been with other women, I scolded myself. Just because his affairs weren't splashed across the media didn't mean they didn't exist. So why was I so upset by it? He was hardly a prince charming, even if he was as rich as one, and the last man I would've ever chosen.... But he chose me—wanted me—and, damn it all, that was sexy as hell.

  "You know," Minnie purred, trailing a finger lightly down his arm. "I got Wednesdays free for you if you ever wanna—" She let the sentence hang, the ending implied. I wanted to growl at her myself and smack that stupid smirk off her face. My hand tightened on Jonah's to keep myself from doing just that.

  "Fuck off, Minnie," Jonah spat. He squeezed my hand back and leaned into me slightly, sending a pleasurable warmth through me down to my toes.

  "I'll take your Wednesdays, Minnie," Reggie offered with a grin, revealing a holey smile and one particularly sharp tooth on the left side. Minnie replied by slamming the door in his face. "One day you'll be begging me, Min!" he shouted through the door. "You just wait!"

  "Stupid dog," Minnie moaned, rolling her eyes. They landed on Jonah again and she gave him a saucy smile.

  "Go sink your claws into someone else, Minnie," Jonah said, pushing her off when she tried to sidle up to him again. "Bernie still drooling on the ground you walk on?" he suggested.

  "Obviously," she sniffed with a proud little smile.

  "Better yet, it's Friday, go find Hector and give him his weekly blowjob," Jonah grunted. Minnie glared at him, her mouth hanging open from the insult. Jonah didn't wait around for her to respond, pulling me alongside him, weaving through the piles of clutter to a door on the other side of the room.

  In fact, there were three doors, each the same plain wood, but the door to the left bore the same painted symbol I'd seen everywhere else. That was the door Jonah knocked on twice before he barged inside and I immediately wished he hadn't.

  The room on the other side of the door was smaller than the one where Minnie still pouted but almost completely empty of furniture. Despite the sparseness, however, the room was crowded, containing four men, two dogs, a woman, and, cowering in the corner, my father. I barely refrained from crying out to him, although whether in anger or concern I wasn't sure.

  Two large hounds stood in front of my dad, baring their teeth at him and snarling viciously. The rest of the crowd were at the desk. Behind it sat a man who rivaled Jonah in size and strength and was completely bald, reminding me of Vin Diesel. In his lap was a half-naked woman; the desk blocked their lower halves but it wasn't hard to deduce what was happening based on her rhythmic, gyrating movement. The other three men stood on the other side, heatedly discussing a set of blueprints rolled out on top of the desk.

  Upon our abrupt entrance, all eyes turned in our direction and glared—except Dad, who lit up like a kid at Christmas. When his eyes met mine they were filled with pain and regret. God, what had he done now?

  The man behind the desk was the first to react, slapping the woman on top of him on the ass; she immediately started her rhythmic movements again, her barely-covered breasts bouncing in his face. The man nibbled at the exposed, soft pink flesh of one of them, making the woman yip and press harder against him. He smiled then looked back at Jonah and me casually like he wasn't being ridden in the middle of a crowded room.

  "Joe Carson," he acknowledged. One of the other men reached over and moved a paperweight from the corner of the blueprints and it immediately rolled up, hiding whatever they were discussing. The two beasts growling at my dad seemed to be undecided on who they wanted to threaten more before finally settling on us. "You're not welcome here anymore, Joe," the man said.

  "Kinney," Joe nodded back at him. "You have something that belongs to me," he said.

  Kinney laughed heartily, tossing his head back and momentarily jarring the woman's rhythm. He nipped at her breast again and she quickly continued as before. "I possess nothing that isn't rightfully mine," he said confidently.

  "I disagree," Jonah said firmly. He released my hand and stepped forward to set the briefcase down on top of the desk. He opened it just enough to pull out the stack of papers and dropped them in front of Kinney. "According to this, that man is under my protection." He pointed at my dad still cowering in the corner, watching Jonah hopefully.

  Kinney shoved the woman from his lap, not giving her a second glance as she landed sprawled on the floor, gaping up at him like a chastised puppy. Slowly, she stood and reached for a red, silk robe hanging over the back of a chair, the only other piece of furniture in the room.

  "I didn't tell you to get dressed," Kinney hissed, not looking up from scanning the document Jonah gave him. The woman dropped the robe again with a pout and sat quietly on the edge of the chair, eyes fixed on the floor. "A very interesting read, Carson," Kinney praised, setting the document back down. He raked his eyes over me and Jonah snarled at him in warning but it only made the man laugh. "Settle down," he chuckled. "You know I've no use for her."

  "The Aberdeens are mine, Kinney," Jonah said fiercely. "You've been paid. You have no business with him anymore."

  "I disagree," Kinney frowned, shifting to study my father for a moment. "He owes me more than money, Carson. Or did he not mention that part?" he chuckled, glancing at me again. "Your daddy's been awfully bad, princess," he told me, his voice dripping with condescension, then he turned his focus back to Jonah. "He knows secrets, Carson," Kinney said. "Surely you un
derstand why I can't let him live."

  Dad whimpered in the corner and I stole another glance in his direction, noticing the lacerations on his arms and legs along with several large bruises, one across his left cheek. They were beating him. My mouth opened in shock and indignation but I clamped it shut before any sound could come out and averted my eyes.

  "I don't, actually" Jonah gritted back. "I told you. The Aberdeens are mine. Protected. Legally, you can't touch them. I could have the Council on you for this," he gestured at my father emphatically.

  "Please," Kinney scoffed. "They won't touch me and you know it," he laughed. "I could send them your way, though," he grinned. "Holding a human against their will," he nodded at me. "Not to mention your little escapade last time you were here."

  "You gave me no choice, Kinney," Jonah growled. "And she's not being held against her will."

  "Oh?" Kinney laughed again. "Then where's her mark?" he challenged, then sniffed the air. "Why can't I smell you on her? She smells a bit too human and looks a little too frightened if you ask me, Carson. Tsk-tsk, Joey," he shook a finger at Jonah in a mock scolding. "You know better."