The Next Sin

by Georgia Cates

  I stalk toward the kitchen and stop dead in my tracks when I see the bloody message smeared on the living room wall.

  You took something special from them and now they’re taking something special from you. Me.

  Bleu

  My mum gasps. “Dear God. Is that written in blood?”

  “I highly doubt they used their own.” Using my wife’s blood is a message within a message. They’re telling me they won’t hesitate to hurt my wife. Or kill her.

  My mum turns away. “Sadistic animals. That’s what they are.”

  The drawer from the end table is broken into pieces on the floor. Anyone can clearly recognize the signs of a struggle. I’m certain she was going for the gun and one of two things happened. She didn’t make it in time or they’d already been in the flat and cleared it of weapons.

  My lass fought back. No surprise there, but I’m certain there were too many for her to take on.

  I know in my heart that Bleu’s been taken by The Order but I still dash through the flat calling out her name. I come to a standstill in our bedroom when I don’t find her. It’s almost a relief. I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t discover her raped and/or murdered.

  My father puts his hand on my shoulder. “She’s not here, son.”

  Rage swells within me, seething to the surface. “If they’ve harmed her, they’ll die a slow, painful death. Each and every one of them. I swear this.”

  I’m possessed. I don’t have a shred of control as I tear through our bedroom destroying anything within my reach.

  “Sinclair!” I’m not sure how many times my father yells my name before I finally hear him. “Stop, son. Tearing your house apart isn’t going to bring your wife back.”

  He doesn’t understand. “Mum has never been taken from you. And if she had been, you wouldn’t have felt what’s in my heart right now.”

  My distress isn’t just for Bleu. “We were having you over tonight to tell you that Bleu is having twins. That makes her pregnancy high risk so stress won’t be good for her or the babies.”

  There’s no time for happiness or celebration.

  “I don’t want tae consider what they might do tae her if they know she’s carrying the future leaders of The Fellowship. We can’t waste a single minute. We have tae get her back as soon as possible—before something happens tae my grandchildren,” my mum says.

  Dad nods in agreement. “We’ll get her back but we have to be smart about it.”

  He’s right. “Debra has been keeping tabs on The Order. We need her here now.”

  I’m impressed with how fast my freelance detective arrives when beckoned.

  “This is what I know.” Debra takes out a map of Edinburgh and its surrounding suburbs. She points to an area near the water in Portobello. “They’ve recently acquired a warehouse in this area. For what, I’m not yet certain, but common sense would tell us they’re importing or exporting something. I think this should be the first place we look. It’s new. They’ll assume you don’t know about it so it’s a good location to hide Bleu.”

  “What will we do if she’s not there?”

  She points to an area in the Cockenzie area. “There’s another warehouse here. It would be second on my list.”

  We were just there. “We invaded that location a few weeks ago and took a large supply of explosives.”

  “Let’s hope this is about getting their explosives back. A trade. Her for what they want.”

  Of course. Nothing is more precious to me than my wife and children. “Those bastards have me over a barrel. I’ll give them anything they want to get Bleu back safely.”

  “Good. We’ll need to act quickly in case they get antsy and harm her.”

  Members of The Order are notorious for raping and torturing women of rival organizations. It’s a tradition they’ve been doing for decades.

  I can’t think about what they might do to her or I’ll be useless. I have to believe she’s safe and unharmed.

  “I’d like to go in. Alone. Feel out the location before they make us. They don’t know me so I could fly under the radar. I can pose as a homeless woman looking for a warm bed for the night.”

  Her plan is a good one. “How long will it take you to get into character?”

  “Not long.”

  “Then let’s go get my family.”

  * * *

  I’m back at the warehouse we invaded weeks ago, where we found the explosives and I lost three of my best men. I had no intention of entering this place again. Yet here I am, back in the hands of my enemy.

  I’m going in alone. I’m the one who killed Grieve’s son. They targeted me when they took my wife so it’ll be me they’re expecting.

  I open the door and see no one within. “Bleu?”

  My voice echoes without any reply.

  “Grieve?” I call his name, already knowing he isn’t here.

  I walk the industrial-style metal building, taking a look around. I see no one but I find another message written in blood on the wall.

  Return what you took to this place by 2200 and I might survive the night.

  Bleu

  God, I can’t believe they made her write that. She must be terrified but knowing Bleu, she’s probably pissed as well at this point. She isn’t going to like that she wasn’t able to stop them from taking her. I hope she doesn’t try anything irrational before I’m able to get her back.

  I look at my watch and note the time. I have ninety-five minutes to transfer potentially unstable explosives across town. They’ve not given me much time but I figure that’s with a purpose. It’s a ploy to make me afraid for my wife. It’s working.

  I dash out of the building toward the car where Sterling waits. “They want the explosives by ten. We have to hurry.”

  I arrive at the secret site where the explosives are being stored. The two men who drove the truck the night we stole it are here to assist with the return.

  “Evening, boss,” they say in unison.

  I give them a nod. “The explosives are loaded and ready for transport?”

  “Aye, just as you ordered,” one answers.

  Perfect. “We’re returning everything to the same warehouse we took them from.”

  “Boss, you should probably know that we were given orders by Abram. He says nothing should be moved without his permission.”

  I’m immediately enraged. My uncle is no longer a leader. He has no right to give orders to my men. This is his way of taking advantage of his prior role. Further, he has no regard for my wife’s safety. He’d prefer seeing her dead than return the explosives to The Order. That means he’d choose death for my children.

  Perhaps Bleu isn’t so far off target with her suspicion.

  * * *

  Sterling drives my dad and me to The Order’s warehouse while the truck of explosives follows close behind. My father is quiet so I have a moment to reflect on the night’s events.

  “I didn’t protect my wife from The Order. I told her I would always keep her safe because it was my job. She put her trust in me and I let her down.”

  “There’s no way you could have anticipated The Order coming for her.”

  I knew Bleu was going to be targeted by a lot of people simply for being my wife. My love for her places a large mark on her back. I knew this. I should’ve had more protection in place for her. I’m completely disgusted by my lack of caution. “My actions—or absence of them—are inexcusable. She may not forgive me for allowing this to happen.”

  “You didn’t allow anything to happen, Sinclair.”

  I leave her alone so often. I should’ve known this would happen. “I’m a stupid husband and leader for not having guards at the house ensuring her safety when I was away.”

  “You’re newlyweds. You wanted a normal life with your new wife. Constant security in your home would have negated that possibility. No one faults you for wanting some normalcy with Bleu.”

  I already suspect she’s been cut deeply, enough to produce the amount
of blood it would take to write both of the messages left for me. I don’t want to but my mind begins imagining the worst. “I don’t know what I’ll do if she’s been harmed.”

  “Your wife is a trained agent. She’s smart and knows how to survive. There’s no doubt in my mind that Bleu knows how to deal with her captors, possibly in a deadly manner.”

  “My lass is a warrior but she has the safety of the babies to consider. She can’t fight the same way she would if she weren’t pregnant.”

  I fear the reaction of The Order if she fights back. They don’t hold women in the same regard as The Fellowship. They place little to no value on them. Women, in their eyes, are expendable.

  My mum had it right when she called them sadistic animals.

  “Despite their foolish behavior, they’re not completely ignorant. They want their explosives back. They know harming a Breckenridge could negate the exchange. I don’t think they’ll take that risk.”

  “I’ll annihilate the entire lot if they’ve harmed her.”

  “Don’t anticipate the worst. Think only of bringing Bleu home safely. Negative theories will distract you. You need a clear head so no mistakes are made.”

  My father is right. I can’t afford to be sidetracked by what-ifs.

  “Boss,” Sterling says. He lifts his chin, gesturing to the rearview mirror. “The truck is pulling off the road.”

  What the hell?

  I twist in my seat to get a look at what’s going on and see the flashing blue lights of two police cars. One behind the truck. The other following behind us.

  “No. No. No! Not now. Anytime but right now.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Sterling asks.

  We can run but the truck can’t, not while carrying unstable explosives.

  I look to Dad but I can already predict what he’ll say. “We don’t have a choice. We have to pull over to see what they want.”

  “And hope to hell they don’t search the back of that truck.”

  Sterling pulls to a stop on the side of the road. I look at the time and see we have ten minutes until the deadline. “We don’t have time for this.”

  “Patience, Sinclair.”

  I consider the reasons the authorities would have for blue lighting us. We weren’t breaking any traffic laws so I’m inclined to think this is a set-up. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  My heart sinks when Lloyd Buchanan, deputy chief constable of the Organized Crime Unit, comes to the driver’s window. This is no routine traffic stop. Judging by the amused look on his face, he knows he has something on us. “Good evening, Thane. Sinclair.”

  “Good evening, Officer Buchanan,” my father says.

  He steps away from the car with his hands of his hips, rocking on his heels. Grinning. “I hear congratulations are in order.”

  He can’t possibly know about Bleu’s pregnancy. “You’re referring to my marriage?”

  “Aye. I must admit I was taken aback to hear that you’d married outside The Fellowship.”

  “You’ve seen how bonny my wife is. It should come as no surprise.”

  “Aye, she’s a lovely lass but I’m wondering why you’d go against your brotherhood. You’re a tight bunch. I’m doubtful they welcomed your American bride with open arms.”

  I don’t have time for this. “You didn’t pull our car over to discuss my marriage.”

  “Aye. You’re right, but before we get to that, I’m curious. Why are you escorting a transport truck through Order territory this time of night?”

  He has nothing on us. He’s curious. Good. “I was under the impression that Edinburgh was a free town. I suppose I failed to get the memo about sections of it belonging to anyone in particular. How does one do that—go about obtaining parts of a city?”

  “Enough with the bullshit,” Buchanan says.

  “Finally. Something we agree upon.”

  “Then I’ll get on with it.”

  Buchanan takes his gun from his holster and points it in my direction. “Sinclair Breckenridge. Step out of the car slowly with your hands on your head.”

  A half dozen officers, firearms pointed at me, surround the car.

  “What is this about?” my father asks.

  “I’m arresting your son for the murder of Malcolm Irvine.”

  No. This can’t be happening now. Anytime but now.

  I can’t be taken in. Bleu’s life is dependent upon me making this delivery.

  I’m ready to grovel if need be. “I need two hours. It’s life and death. And then I’ll turn myself in for questioning.”

  “Doesn’t work like that. I don’t get credit for your arrest if you turn yourself in.”

  “Please. My wife has been taken. She’s in grave danger.”

  “Sounds like a police matter to me.”

  He knows I’d never do that. “I can’t come to the police. That’s not how these things work.”

  “Aye. I know exactly how people from your world operate. Illegally. Always.”

  “They’ll kill her if I don’t meet their demands.”

  He shrugs. “Not my problem if it’s not reported to the authorities.”

  “They’ll kill her if the police become involved.”

  “Again, not my problem.”

  “Bleu is pregnant with twins. If you can’t have mercy for me, can you at least have it for the two innocent lives she carries?”

  “I’m afraid that’s just two more cockroaches for me to squash in the coming years.”

  Buchanan is supposedly one of the good guys but he’s as evil as any Order member.

  I’m desperate. To hell with the consequences of my actions. None of it matters if I don’t get to Bleu in time.

  I reach for my gun.

  My father puts his hand on my arm. “It will be the hardest thing you ever do but go with him, Sinclair. Rodrick will be there within the hour to clear up this mess. I’ll take care of our problem in the meantime.”

  I don’t want my dad to take care of my mistake. It’s mine to fix.

  I’m not ready to budge and he sees this. “You don’t need your wife coming home to an incarcerated husband because he made an irrational decision.”

  Again, my father is right. I’m no good to Bleu if I’m in prison.

  “All right, Buchanan. I’m getting out of the car.”

  “Slowly. Hands on top of your head.”

  “Aye. You’ve already said that.”

  “Just want to be clear.”

  I do just as the bastard says. It’s the hardest damn thing I’ve ever done, second only to watching Bleu walk out of my life.

  I’m immediately swarmed by his mob of lawmen, shoved face down onto the ground, my gun taken from its holster. “I voluntarily surrendered Buchanan. Is this really necessary?”

  I can’t see him because my face is forced into the dirt but I hear him and know he’s standing over me. “You’re under arrest for the murder of Malcolm Irvine. You do not have to say anything. However, it may harm your defense if you do not mention, when questioned, something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. But you know these things already, Mr. Solicitor. Congratulations on that, by the way. The world has been in need of another dirty lawyer.”

  “Just as they’re in need of another dirty police officer.”

  My hands are cuffed behind my back and I’m yanked to my feet. “You can pretend to be the good guy all you like, but we both know what hides behind that badge.”

  My two men driving the truck are handcuffed and placed in the back of a squad car. Of course, they’re keeping the three of us separate.

  I inwardly growl as I watch the officers swarm the truck. They have no idea how much they’re fucking up my trade for Bleu’s life. I’m not sure The Order will agree to any kind of exchange without the explosives.

  My beloved is a captive. I’m in custody. I’m at the mercy of my father and The Order. I fucking hate i
t. And there’s nothing I can do about it.

  To be continued …

  One Last Sin to be released on March 23, 2015

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  Acknowledgments

  Samantha Young

  I came to know my dear friend, Samantha Young, online close to three years ago. Neither of us were New York Times best-selling authors back then. We had the same goal: write damn good books and hope for the best. Our journeys have differed but we’ve come a long way. I’m still amazed when I look back at where we once were and where we are now––especially Sam. She is so deserving of all the success she has achieved. She is an extraordinary person and I’m so happy to call her a friend.

  It is my hope that in reading A Necessary Sin and The Next Sin, you find them authentic in regards to Scotland and the Scottish lifestyle. Thanks be to Samantha and her keen eye for detail.

  Thank you for all your help, Sam. I love you dearly.

  If you don’t already know the fantabulous Samantha Young, you can discover her and her awesome books at: Author Samantha Young.

  Excerpt: Beauty from Pain

  The Beauty Series: Book I

  Georgia Cates

  Chapter One

  Laurelyn Prescott

  I am sick of being on this plane. The four-and-a-half-hour flight from Nashville to Los Angeles was fine. The layover was tolerable, thanks to the airport bar. But the last leg of our flight to Australia is becoming more and more unbearable with each passing minute.

  I try to calculate how much longer it is until we land in Sydney. My exhaustion makes it difficult for me to do the simple equation in my head, but it looks like it’s still almost two hours until I will feel solid ground beneath my feet again. I sigh and tell myself to be patient. I’ve made it this far. I can take another two hours. I mean, I don’t really have a choice at this point, right?