The Sin Eater (A F.R.E.A.K.S. Squad Investigation Book 5)

by Jennifer Harlow

  The doors to the bar have freaking keypad locks too. Most open with little telekinetic effort but the last one to the bar is heavy enough I get a twinge when I slam the door aside, cracking the wall around. They can bill me.

  I find myself in the back of the dark, empty lounge, its gold and silver décor no longer glittering like last night and find the lights before I locate my destination—the bar. With the sunlight streaming through the skylight above the VIP lounge, I see it’s nice outside, all blue sky and sunshine. And I’m stuck in here with the beach mere yards away. Yeah. Booze. I find the Belvedere vodka, Kahlua, and cream in the mini-fridge. White Russians, Starbucks that will fudge you up. I think I’ll drink all day. Puke all over the guest room. Make—

  “Freeze!”

  My gaze juts toward the voice. Robin, dressed only in a peach kimono robe, holds a gun on me from the hallway to the back of the club. She sighs in relief as her body visibly relaxes. Even without make-up and unbrushed hair she’s prettier than me. Beotch.

  “Oh, shit, Agent Alexander, you scared the crap out of me,” she chuckles as she lowers the gun. “I thought Connor…” She begins walking toward me. “Did you do that to all the doors?”

  “I didn’t have the codes,” I say brattily, adding ice to my drink.

  “I overslept. I’m sorry,” she says before reaching the gilded bar. I suck down my strong drink and suppress a shudder. Too much vodka. “You really did that to that last door? It’s solid steel.”

  “I once lifted a Hummer over my head, so…” I take another sip.

  Robin sits on one of the stools. “Wow. No wonder Connor wants you so badly.”

  “Yes. For my mind,” I say bitchily, channeling my inner Bette Davis.

  Robin’s jade eyes narrow at me. “Are you…okay? It’s kind of early to be drinking.”

  I roll my eyes while taking another sip. “Aren’t we the considerate one?” Another sip. “I want to talk to my grandmother and best friend. I want to make sure they’re okay.”

  “Okay. Of course. Oliver gave me all the details. He—”

  “Oh, I know he gave you all the details.” Another sip. “Repeatedly I’m sure.”

  Robin slow blinks at me. “Oh. That’s what this is about.” She starts playing with a strand of her bleached blonde hair. “I-I thought you two weren’t…you’re not a couple. And it was just a bit of fun. I don’t—”

  “We may not be a couple, but he is my…friend. And he wouldn’t have left me and done…that if your girlfriend didn’t pressure him or take advantage of his emotional state. He—”

  “Uh, you need to stop right there, honey bunch,” Robin says, holding up a finger. “First off, Toni didn’t pressure him to do jack shit. He came to us upset and confused about your little conversation in bed last night. He told us all the shit you’ve put him through the past few months too.” My face falls. “Yeah. He told us everything. And from my perspective it sounds like the only one taking advantage of him is you. You almost got him killed more than once. You pushed him away. You abandoned him. You humiliated him. Dragged him into this current bullshit we all have to clean up now. So honey, you—who have been fucking another guy for weeks now—don’t get to judge or be pissed off that a single man found a little comfort when he needed it and you wouldn’t provide it for whatever reason, you ungrateful bitch. We’re all here, bending over backwards, to solve the giant clusterfuck you’ve brought to our doorstep.”

  “I brought?” I huff. “Your girlfriend and Connor have been at each other’s throats for over a century. If anything I was the one dragged into this. I didn’t want any of this! I didn’t ask for any of this!”

  “Well, you’re in it now,” Robin says. “Your family’s in it now. It is what it is, Agent Alexander. It’s not going to magically resolve itself. Life doesn’t work like that. You have to put in the work. And right now that work is for you to decide what you are willing to do to clean your mess, and it is your mess. You need to decide how far you’re willing to go to do what’s right. For yourself, for your family. Your friends. Everything else should just be white noise. And you getting drunk and picking fights with people trying to help isn’t going to drown out that noise. Will it? Get your head in the game, honey bunch. Put your big girl pants on, grab a gun, and start fighting. If not for your sake then for the people you love’s.”

  My righteous anger from just a minute ago evaporated with her words, instead replaced with something worse. Shame. Nope. Not that. Stop it, Bea. I have nothing to be ashamed of. I didn’t start this war. I didn’t feel the need to comfort a vulnerable man with my penis. Anger. Anger’s good. Better. I can handle anger. I—

  There’s a pounding on the front door of the bar not fifty feet away. We both gasp and spin in that direction before glancing at one another again. We don’t know what to do so we just remain still and quiet. Probably a delivery or something. They pound again.

  “LAPD! Open this door or we will break it down!”

  We exchange another confused look. I shrug. Robin slowly climbs off the stool while picking up her gun again. I move around the bar to join her as a united front. Ready for—

  The door literally falls off the hinges inside the club just as three men with automatic rifles storm in. Thank Christ I immediately notice the word “Police” written on their Kevlar and their badges hanging around their necks or I’d snap their necks with my mind. Robin immediately drops her gun and we both raise our hands as they shout at us to, “Put your hands on the back of your heads and get down on the ground. On the ground!” the one in the lead says as SWAT and a man in a windbreaker advance toward us. We obey. The three men in tactical gear swarm around us, rifles pointed just as they’re trained to do. Like the FBI taught me. The man in the windbreaker with a suit underneath his Kevlar approaches behind them.

  “Beatrice Suzanne Alexander?” he asks.

  “Y-yes?” I gasp.

  He removes his handcuffs and bends beside me. “Beatrice Alexander you are under arrest for the assault and battery of Connor McInnis and Neil Kilkelly.”

  “What?” I ask as he slaps the cuffs around my wrists.

  He continues the Miranda warning as my head swims. This is a freaking farce. I assaulted them? He’s using the police to do his dirty work now? Gotta give him credit, it’s a clever ploy. If he sends his own people not only does it violate the treaty but he knew I’d fight back against them. I can’t do anything to these men. Neither of us can. The officer yanks me off the ground and one of the tactical team points his gun at me. The other two remain on Robin. “Do you understand these rights as they’ve been said to you?”

  “Y-yes.”

  “I’ll get you out,” Robin says.

  “She’ll be extradited to San Diego County after processing and arraigned probably later this afternoon,” the officer pushing me toward the door says.

  “I will get you out! I will stay on top of this! She has powerful friends in the FBI! If anything happens to her…” Robin shouts.

  The officer manhandles me out into the almost overwhelming sunlight I longed for just minutes ago. I wish I could shield my eyes. The cuffs cut into my wrists. I could easily escape but if this is in the real system, I’d be a fugitive. I’d have to hurt these men. The F.R.E.A.K.S. may be able to smooth things over, but I don’t know. I half expect some of Connor’s minions to drive by and grab me or for the officer to just hand me over to some goons, but he actually does take me to the back of a police cruiser. The tactical team returns to their own car with only one getting in with us.

  “Is-is this for real?” I ask the men.

  “What?” the tactical officer asks.

  “Do-do you work for Connor? Are you taking me to him?”

  “Ma’am we work for the county of Los Angeles, and we are taking you to county lock-up where there’s a van coming to take you back down to San Diego for arraignment,” the plainclothes officer says.

  “So this is legit? He really filed charges?”

 
; “Yes, ma’am. Last night right after you assaulted them. SDPD told us where you’d be early this morning.” The driver pauses. “I saw the photos. You really did a number on them.”

  Yeah, nice try jerk. Getting me to talk about my crime. I learned that tactic too. “And let me guess, it was a Det. Harvey Berry who facilitated all this?”

  The driver glances back at me. “How did you—”

  I scoff then chuckle wryly. “Yeah. Welcome to the farce, gentlemen. You’ve played your roles to perfection. Delivering me into the arms of the devil.” I rest my head on the back of the seat and close my eyes. “Maybe it’s where I deserve to be.”

  *

  Have you ever been so tired that the mere act of blinking proves as difficult as running a marathon? Not physically difficult just that it’s one more pointless activity that needs doing and you just don’t see the point of. Where you’re exhausted in your every pore, every atom? Twice before in my life I’ve experienced this. The first time was sitting in the reception area of a Phoenix police station after talking to the case officer from Child Protective Services when I was eight. My mother had just killed herself and I had no idea what would happen to me next. The officer mentioned some grandmother I’d never met was on her way for us, but I didn’t know the woman. All I knew was that the mommy who loved brushing my hair while humming show tunes, who read me stories at night, who made the best pancakes ever, was gone. Dead. And according to my brother it was my fault. It was a lot for a child to handle, so I more or less shut down. The second time was on the flight back to San Diego three months ago. We’d buried Will hours before, I was all but fired from my job, and guilt over both suffocated me. I do now what I did those other two times: curl up, close my eyes, and stay as still as possible as abject misery and guilt drown me.

  I’ve been fingerprinted. Strip searched. Photographed. Cavity searched. Forced to bend over naked and examined to ensure I don’t have contraband stuffed in my vagina or anus. Manhandled onto a van for an hours long trip back to San Diego sitting beside a jittery meth addict also enduring alcohol withdrawal. Shoved into another holding cell that reeks of urine, feces, and body odor with more drunks, gang members, and meth addicts picking their faces to a bloody pulp. I sit on my bench in the corner of the courthouse holding cell, hugging my knees while resting my head on them with my eyes shut as I’m called a white bitch and puta and cunt by some of the others. I barely hear the insults. I travel so deep into my own head, into the inky abyss, the other prisoners may as well be in another dimension.

  Just me and my thoughts. My plans. It becomes so clear what I need to do. The only solution. I saw it last night even before Oliver came into my bedroom. After he did what he did with Antonia too. I just don’t know if I can pull this off. If I can even bring myself to do it. If he’ll—

  “Alexander, Beatrice?” a woman says over the intercom at hour three in the bowels of hell. I slowly gaze up to find a guard on the other side of the door. “Come to the door, put your hands behind your back, then turn around.”

  Like a zombie, I obey. The guard cuffs me through the metal slot before opening the door. Once again I’m marched through beige halls past other guards and criminals, some struggling against one another. An exercise in futility. Pointless. A waste of energy. I’ve learned my lesson, so should they.

  Our destination is a small interrogation room where a familiar woman waits. Krista has the nerve to smile at me as I’m cuffed to the table by the guard, yet I don’t feel a thing. Not annoyance, not anger, just a void. The guard promptly leaves and a moment after the door shuts, Krista’s smile grows. “They think I’m a paralegal for your lawyer.”

  “I don’t have a lawyer,” I say in monotone.

  “Of course you do. One of the best in town. Connor would never leave you in the lurch,” she says pleasantly. “You’ll be arraigned, I’ll post your bail, and eventually all charges will be dropped. It’ll be like it never happened.”

  “Is that why he sent you? To deliver the good news?”

  “I’m here to talk some sense into you, girlie girl,” she says. “I mean, look where you are, Bea. You’re in jail when you could be in Paris with Connor, shopping at Chanel and—”

  “Connor put me in here,” I point out.

  “You didn’t give him a choice. He’s been so worried about you he’s barely gotten any sleep today. That Antonia could have been torturing you. Holding you hostage. She—”

  “Is that what he told you? He’s doing it all for my benefit? Jesus, I knew you were dumb but—”

  “I’m not dumb,” she cuts in. “If anyone’s the dummy here, it’s y-o-u,” she spells out. “He wants to give you everything, girl. Power. Money. A life traveling the world with no worries or responsibilities. And not just for you. For your family too. He’d take care of you all. He’ll give you anything. What’s that Antonia offering, huh? Nothing, right? Come on, Bea. You know life’s mostly horrible. For every one good thing that happens there are ten bad. The deck’s stacked against most of us. The rich and powerful war and it’s us peasants that suffer. Playing by the rules, being good, whatever the hell that really means, where has it got you? And it’s not like Antonia is an angel here. She’s just as evil and immoral as Connor. She just wants to use you like he does, but at least he knows your worth.”

  “She never threated my family,” I point out.

  “Yet.” Krista leans forward. “You’re stuck between a rock and a hard place. That’s just a fact. It isn’t going to change. And all you can do…is do you. What loyalty do you owe that bitch?”

  A flash of Oliver screwing her enters my mind. “None.”

  “Then get yours’ girl. They did this to you. All you can do is make the best out of it. Besides, it’s not as if you have much choice.” She leans back and pulls out her cell phone. “He wanted me to stress he’d rather this be done civilly, but…” She holds up her phone to reveal a photo of my sister-in-law Renata walking to her car holding my baby nephew Marcus. My stomach clenches. “Forgot about them, didn’t you? We didn’t.” She puts her phone back. “Antonia didn’t either. Our guys noticed her guys parked out front. Connor told me to tell you he can protect them. To remind you that the moment Antonia hears you’re back with us she will take measures, no matter whose friend you are. Connor wants to protect them. He really does care about you, Bea. Truly.” Krista rises from the table with a sympathetic smile. “There’s only one thing to do, and it is the right thing to do. Just give in already. Stop fighting this, Bea. Stop fighting him. You’ll be a lot happier if you do. And he just wants you to be happy.”

  Krista half smiles before spinning around and banging on the door. It opens and Krista departs. I just stare at that door, still numb before laying my head on my arm and shutting my eyes again.

  Okay. Okay.

  The guard escorts me back to the holding cell where I resume my impression of a rock on the beach, thinking thinking thinking away and not feeling a damn thing. When planning a massacre a person should feel something right? I don’t. An hour, maybe less, passes before the guards round us up for the arraignment. Connor’s lawyer meets me for all of two minutes and is exactly like I envisioned him: hurried, bored, and the kind of man who owns a pen that could pay my rent for a month. At least he lets me borrow it. And I do hope he charges Connor for the scrap of paper and ink.

  When it’s my turn at the dock, even without the handcuffs on, I keep my hands balled into fists. And aren’t I the popular gal. In the first row of the gallery I find Krista and one hulking goon I recognize from my nights at the club. In the back, by the door, Robin with three giants of her own flanking her. I knew she’d be here. Brave of her. She smiles at me but I don’t return the gesture. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. I just stare at the bored judge as the clerk reads off the bogus charges. Two counts assault and battery with a hundred thousand bond ready to be paid within the hour. Not two minutes later I’m sent back to the holding area to wait again. Back into my shell to refine my pl
ans. One hour later, I’m filling out paperwork and being escorted out of the holding areas a relatively free woman. Bully for me.

  I don’t even get thirty seconds out the door before both factions pounce. Krista and her goon rush from the left of the courthouse and Robin and her three from the right. They must not have spotted each other until now. Once they do, both rush to be the first. Krista beats them by three steps. “All set?” she asks me as if the opposing team aren’t there.

  “Agent Alexander?” Robin asks.

  Krista turns to Robin. “Who are you?”

  “Who are you?” Robin asks.

  I don’t have the energy to prolong this nightmare. I’m ready.

  “Robin…” I say, stepping her direction. I smile and take her hand.

  She glances down at our hands then up at me, confused. “What—”

  “Robin…take your pathetic little minions here and fuck off back to your bitch girlfriend. While you still can.”

  Her eyes narrow. “What? I don’t…you don’t have to go with them. We can—”

  “Protect me? Take care of me? Excellent fucking job you’ve done so far, honey bunch. All you and your girlfriend have managed to do is piss Connor off further and literally screw the man I lo—” I stop myself again and grimace. “You can’t do shit for me. Only I can. And I am.” I step toward Krista, but then stop and turn back around. “Oh, and Robin, don’t forget I know where you all sleep. Where you live. If anything happens to my family, I will bring that building down. I will crush and burn you all alive. That is a promise. Now run back to your master…slut.”

  I give Robin one last shit-eating grin before moving to Krista. “Let’s go.” The goon takes my upper arm, but I yank it away. I look the man square in the eye. “Touch me again and I’ll rip out your spine vertebrae by vertebrae, smiling as you scream.”

  I bump past him as I saunter away. They follow at a close distance down the hallway and out of the courthouse. The sun still hangs in the sky with about two hours remaining. I close my eyes and enjoy the sensation of that natural warmth on my upturned face. I savor the slight breeze on my skin and the faint scent of the ocean that’s always on the San Diego wind. Life makes it so hard for us to remember to take a moment to enjoy these simple pleasures of the world. These simple delights threaten to bring tears to my eyes.