SINS of the Rex Book 3

by Emma Slate

  “You’re crying, love,” he murmured.

  “I know,” I said into his heated skin.

  His hands came around to tug gently on my hair, forcing me to look at him. “Why, hen?”

  My lips wobbled. “I didn’t know if you’d ever—if we’d ever—”

  “Shhh.” His thumbs brushed away the tears on my cheeks. “I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Chapter 40

  While I took a shower, Flynn ordered food. By the time I got out of the bathroom and into comfortable pajamas, weak winter light shone through the windows. We sat down on the couch and I snuggled into him. We were silent but every now and again Flynn would kiss my hair.

  He finally broke the quiet when he asked, “So tell me what happened with Sanchez.”

  I started at the beginning. I told him about our deal—in exchange for getting Flynn out of jail, we’d smuggle cocaine into England and the U.S. for a year.

  He looked like he was about to argue, but I stopped him before he could start.

  “There was another form of payment he would’ve gladly accepted, but I thought it would result in multiple deaths.”

  Flynn didn’t find me funny; he clenched his jaw and a muscle in his cheek started to twitch. “How are we supposed to go about this?” he wondered.

  “Sanchez will get the product to Dornoch. We will package it in bottles of scotch and have them shipped here.”

  “Bottles of scotch?” he murmured thoughtfully.

  I smiled. “From our very own scotch distillery.”

  “Use a legal drug to hide the illegal one. Brilliant,” Flynn allowed. “Just one problem. We don’t have a scotch distillery.”

  “Not yet,” I agreed. “But we will.”

  “And it’s just for a year, aye? No longer?”

  “No longer. I told him he could keep all the profits, but that our business relationship would only last a year. I don’t like being under someone else’s thumb. He seemed to respect that.”

  Flynn shook his head. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

  “You,” I said with a smile.

  The elevator doors opened, and an attendant wheeled in our food. As if on cue, my stomach growled. I ate the entire stack of pancakes and then fell into a sugar coma.

  “How are you feeling?” Flynn asked, polishing off the last bite of his eggs.

  “Full and sleepy,” I said, my eyes drifting closed.

  “Let’s go to sleep,” he suggested, tugging me up from the couch.

  “You didn’t sleep?”

  He shrugged. “You were on a plane and I hadn’t seen you in days. I wanted to go to bed with you, so I waited to sleep.”

  My hand caressed his jaw. “Romantic idiot,” I teased.

  He chuckled and led me to the bedroom. I sank into the bed and tried to cover myself with the comforter, but I was exhausted.

  Flynn settled in next to me and dragged the covers up over us. There was still so much I had to tell him. I gave him the bare bones about Quinn missing and having Brandon helping Sasha in the search. Nothing would be solved at the moment, so I left the rest until later. Lack of sleep and the gamut of emotions I’d felt the last couple of days finally took their toll. With Flynn at my back, his hand resting on the bare skin of my belly, I fell asleep.

  I woke up a few hours later in the same position, but Flynn wasn’t in bed next to me. It was full-on day and the sun was trying to peek through the drawn curtains but only a shaft of light managed to get through. I slowly climbed out of bed and went in search of Flynn.

  He sat on the couch, his head in his hands, body taut. He wore a pair of flannel pajama bottoms but no shirt. I watched the muscles of his back tense and release.

  His rugged beauty momentarily stunned me. I never got tired of looking at him, watching him. He moved with assurance and confidence, but Flynn was a beast in human form. He was king of the jungle.

  “What time is it?” I asked.

  “Just past two,” he said, voice strained and tight.

  “Been up long?”

  He shook his head. “Come here, love.”

  Worry skittered down my spine. Flynn had something to tell me and I knew it was nothing good. I sat down on the couch next to him, dread curling in my belly, drifting up my throat.

  Flynn paused.

  “Just tell me,” I whispered.

  He put a hand on my thigh, maybe to anchor me, maybe to prepare me for what he was about to say. “Quinn’s been found.”

  “Oh, God,” I whispered. “Is she—”

  “Fine. She’s fine. Sasha and Brandon found her on a boat at the docks. She was drugged, but no worse for wear.”

  My hand flew to my speeding heart. “Scare the crap out of me, why don’t you?”

  He licked his lips. “There’s more, hen.”

  I stared at him and waited.

  “The boat… there was an explosion. And Sasha…”

  My blood turned to ice. “Sasha what?” I grasped Flynn’s arms, my nails digging into his skin. “Sasha what!”

  Chapter 41

  “It was a trap,” Brandon explained.

  “And Quinn was the bait,” Flynn finished.

  Brandon nodded and ran a hand through his hair. “Should’ve seen it. Should’ve known.”

  “It was Filippi,” Flynn added. “He had insurance policies in place in case of…”

  Their voices turned to buzzing in my ears, like annoying little insects. I stared at the white floor of the hospital, trying to get my breathing under control. After Flynn had told me the news that Sasha was in the burn unit, unconscious, sedated and hovering near death, I’d thrown on clothes and here we were. If Sasha lived, there would be severe damage and scarring. If he didn’t—

  My mind refused to go there.

  “Love,” Flynn said. His arm hooked around my shoulders and he pressed my face into his chest. “Let’s go visit Quinn.”

  “I’ll stay here,” Brandon said. “Don’t want to overwhelm her.”

  Quinn was in a room down the hall, kept under observation until the drugs were out of her system. She was sitting up in bed, staring out the window. She looked lost and alone. Fragile. Broken. I hated seeing her that way. Where was the woman who’d been ballsy enough to call me out on my relationship with Sasha? Sasha would need that woman to help him heal. If…

  “Quinn,” I said quietly.

  When she didn’t look like she’d heard me, I said her name again, a little louder. She turned green eyes to me. Her eyes were glassy. She saw me without seeing me.

  I touched Flynn’s arm and he nodded in understanding. He went over to Quinn, wrapped his arms around her, and murmured something in Gaelic. I could tell she didn’t comprehend what he was saying, but she closed her eyes and a shudder went through her. Flynn released her and with one final look at me, he left.

  Pulling up the chair next to her bed, I took a seat. I grasped one of her hands in mine and held on, not saying anything. There were no words for a situation like this. Quinn had been drugged and used as bait to draw out the man she loved. And now the man she loved was fighting for his life.

  “What if he dies?” she asked, shattering the quiet.

  I took a deep breath. “Then he dies.”

  She flinched. “I love him so much.”

  “I know.” I paused before asking, “What happens if he lives?”

  She cocked her head to one side. “What do you mean?”

  “He’ll be scarred.”

  “I don’t care about any of that,” she snapped, finally showing me some of her fire.

  “I don’t just mean on the inside.”

  Her gaze dropped to her lap.

  “He’ll be in pain. It will take a long time to recover. This might be something neither of you can overcome.”

  “Fuck you,” she yelled. “Fuck you and your bullshit! I love him! And I’ll be there for him—every step of the way.”

  Her anger didn’t faze me; I took it as a good
sign. “He’ll need more than that. He’ll need you to be strong for him. He’ll need you to be stronger than him because he’ll want to give up.”

  “You don’t know.” She glared defiantly. “You don’t know at all how he’s going to be.”

  “If he lives, he’s going to wish he died.”

  She blanched, her creamy complexion turning ashen. “How can you—”

  “He’s a warrior. He’ll hate that he’s become a burden. Do you think he’ll be okay with you playing nurse? He’ll hate your cheerleader attitude. He’s going to be surly and grumpy. He’s not going to be the Sasha you know. He’ll probably never be the Sasha you know ever again.”

  “Are you talking to me, or are you talking to yourself?” she demanded, some of her ire lessening when she realized I was the only one willing to speak the truth. No kid gloves for her.

  “I’d die for him,” I said. “Like I’d die for Flynn or Ash or Duncan. He’s family. I’ll stand by him through all of is. But he won’t need my assurance the way he’s going to need it from you.”

  She took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay.” She bit her lip. “It’s weird.”

  “What is?”

  “Hospitals. They have places for people to pray, but they don’t have places for people to get drunk.”

  I dropped her hand and stood up so that I could embrace her. “Damn. You’re exactly what he needs to get through this.”

  If he lives neither of us said. But that’s what we were thinking.

  I left Quinn and went in search of Flynn. I found him in the corner of the waiting room, cell phone to his ear. A smile bloomed bright and beautiful when he saw me and then he let out a laugh.

  “Aye, I’ll tell her. All right. Bye.” He hung up and looked at me.

  “What’s got you grinning?” I demanded.

  “Our children.”

  “What did they do? Burn down Moira and James’s house?” I quipped and then blanched when I realized what I’d said.

  “Ah, love…” He shook his head. “The last of the red Sharpie has finally faded.”

  “Excellent.”

  “I thought so.”

  “But…” I prompted.

  “It seems Hawk was getting jealous of all the attention the twins were getting from both Moira and James so he bit things.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Things?”

  “And people,” Flynn added. “And animals.”

  “Give me a list,” I said, feeling a gurgle of laughter threatening to come out of my mouth.

  “Table legs, chair legs, his brothers, James’s arm, the dog’s tail.”

  “Oh, no…” I began, no longer able to contain my mirth.

  “Aye,” Flynn stated. “Seamus nipped Hawk back.”

  “Is he seriously hurt?” I wondered.

  Flynn shook his head. “Surprised more like. Maybe that will curb the random biting.”

  “Moira and James’s wedding anniversary is coming up, isn’t it?”

  “Aye. Why?”

  “I was thinking they deserve a good vacation after we take back our devil children.”

  Chapter 42

  I blinked blearily as I stumbled out of the bedroom the next morning. Flynn was long gone, no doubt briefing Brad and making phone calls.

  “You look like crap,” Ash said from the confines of the couch as she flipped through a magazine.

  “How did you get in here?” I muttered, heading towards the kitchen, needing coffee.

  “You’re kidding, right?” She looked me up and down. “You forgot pants.”

  I looked down. I was wearing a thong and a short t-shirt. Apparently I needed coffee and bottoms.

  “Why are you here?” I asked, heading back towards the bedroom.

  “Flynn called me. Gave me the run down. How’s Quinn? Sasha?”

  I’d spent most of yesterday at the hospital with Quinn, waiting for news on Sasha. “Quinn’s okay—physically, anyway. Not a lot of change where Sasha is concerned,” I said, finding a pair of loose sweatpants in the bottom drawer of the dresser.

  “Prognosis?” Ash asked from the doorway of the bedroom.

  I shrugged and she let out a sigh.

  “Thanks for being here,” I said to her.

  “Of course,” she said. “Listen. I had a lot of time to think on the flight over here. Whatever happens with Duncan, I want that separate from you and me. You’re my best friend in the entire world. You’re like a sister to me.”

  “Be pissed at me all you want,” I said, inhaling a shaky breath. “But forgive me in the end, okay? I can’t handle the idea that you—that we won’t—”

  Ash ran towards me and enveloped me in her arms. “I’m here, aren’t I? I know my priorities.”

  I closed my eyes briefly and nodded against her shoulder before pulling back. “Where’s Carys?”

  “With Jack. So I’m flying solo. I’m all yours.”

  We headed out of the bedroom and Ash resumed her seat on the couch while I made coffee. I bumbled, dropping coffee grounds, spilling water.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Ash asked, coming to my aid, waving me to sit down in a chair. “You seem tired. Tired and scattered. Is it Sasha?”

  “Yeah. I didn’t sleep well last night.” I tried not to think of my dear friend in the ICU with guards by the door. We weren’t taking any chances that someone could come back and finish the job they’d started.

  “Is it too early to start drinking?” I asked only half joking.

  She let out a huff of air. “I wish I could. I’m pregnant. Duncan doesn’t know—and you can’t tell him.”

  “Are you going to tell him?” I wondered.

  “In a bit. When I’m ready to… forgive him.”

  “He didn’t do it, though. Sleep with Lila.”

  “It’s never been about the infidelity. The supposed infidelity,” she said slowly. “It’s the lying part, the secrecy part I’m having trouble with.”

  I nodded in understanding. “Ash?”

  “Yeah?”

  I smiled softly. “Congratulations.”

  “Flynn?” I called out, entering the suite.

  No answer.

  The bouquet of white orchids rested on the coffee table. Smiling, I went to the bouquet, thinking my husband had bought them for me. But there was a card. Flynn never left cards with his flowers.

  The elevator doors opened and Flynn strolled in. “Hen,” he greeted, coming to me and placing a quick kiss on my lips. “Beautiful flowers. Who are they from?”

  I cleared my throat. “Sanchez.” I handed him the note, the handwriting written in gold ink.

  Flynn snorted. “You’re a crime lord whisperer, you know that?” He shook his head in amazement. “The man’s in love with you.”

  “Hardly. He’s just impressed that I spoke my mind.”

  “Keep telling yourself that.” He leaned over to pick up the flowers.

  “What are you doing with those?” I demanded.

  “Throwing them away.”

  “Are you crazy? Give them back to me!”

  “You’re accepting flowers from another man?” His shocked face peeked out from behind the orchids, staring me down in hopes of making me cave.

  “They’re gorgeous,” I remarked. “And it would be stupid to throw them away just because they came from a drug kingpin. Really, Flynn. Sometimes you’re way too emotional.”

  “Me? Emotional?” He set the flowers down on the coffee table. “Are you trying to start a fight?”

  I cocked my head to one side. “I don’t know. How will it end?”

  “With you getting your way, no doubt.” All his anger evaporated; his smile was winsome. “Guess it’s my own bloody fault for having a wife that’s gorgeous, intelligent, and funny.”

  “Those are my only good qualities?” I teased. I went to him and brushed my lips against his.

  “You’re dynamite in bed—and I’m sure Sanchez is fantasizing about you.”

  “Let him. You get t
he real deal.” I sailed past him towards the kitchen, wanting to grab a snack. “You hungry?”

  “No,” Flynn said. “Don’t eat too much. We have dinner plans in a few hours.”

  “With?” I asked as I opened the refrigerator.

  “Michael O’Malley.”

  I turned my head to look at him over my shoulder. “Who?”

  “Quinn’s father,” Flynn explained.

  “Is Quinn joining us?”

  “No.”

  “Christ,” I muttered. “He wants Filippi, doesn’t he?”

  “Aye.”

  “But Marino isn’t going to give up Filippi, is he?”

  “Doubt it.”

  “Will O’Malley start a war?”

  “Over his daughter getting kidnapped and held as bait? Damn fucking right.”

  I put a piece of bread in the toaster. “Ash is in town.”

  “When did she get here?”

  “This morning, I think.”

  “Has she forgiven Duncan?”

  “Nope.”

  “What aren’t you telling me?” he inquired.

  “What makes you think I’m hiding something from you?”

  “Because your best friend shows up after days of ignoring all of our phone calls.”

  “She came because you called her and told her about Sasha. She’s put all her shit aside—at least with me. She and I are good. She’s still freezing out Duncan.”

  Flynn pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is getting ridiculous.”

  “You think?”

  Chapter 43

  Flynn pressed a button on the iPad and then Duncan’s bruised face filled the screen. “What the hell happened to you?” Flynn demanded.

  “This,” Duncan said, pointing to his left eye, “was courtesy of my brother-in-law.”

  “And the rest?” I asked.

  Duncan grimaced. “The White Company.”

  “Why?” Flynn growled.

  “Blood payment,” Duncan explained. “Mercenaries with a bloody strange code of honor. In exchange for information, they wanted to make sure I really wanted it.”

  “Anything broken?” I asked before Flynn could pepper him with questions.