SINS of the Rex Book 2

by Emma Slate

  “You.”

  He gave a small smile. I sat up and held out a hand. He tossed me the water bottle and I guzzled half of it.

  “Seriously, Barrett.”

  He meant did I tell Flynn about my nightmares. How the hell could I? My dreams were violent, angry, and filled with lust. And Flynn wasn’t the star of them.

  “No. I mean, he knows I have them. He’s woken me up a time or two, but they’ve gotten worse. More frequent, more… intense.”

  I dropped my gaze and attempted to get up off the mat, but my legs felt like noodles and I sat back down again. The stitches in my arm itched, and I was dying to get them out. The sweaty gauze protecting them didn’t help.

  “Remember when you told me not to apologize for what I had to do to survive?” I asked him.

  He nodded and waited for me to go on.

  I took a deep breath. “I didn’t have to torture Winters. I could’ve just shot him and been done with it, but I wanted him to suffer. I wanted to watch the light go out in his eyes. What the fuck does that say about me?”

  “It says you have demons. Like the rest of us.”

  I huffed on a laugh.

  “Why don’t you talk to Ash about it?” he wondered.

  “She wouldn’t understand. She’d comfort me and everything, but Ash hasn’t killed a man. I’ve killed three. I’m a fucking murderer.”

  “But she’s still your best friend, and she’s stuck by you. And she knows what you’ve done. Maybe not all the details, but she knows enough. Does she treat you any differently because of it?”

  “No.” I shot him an amused look. “God, I’d kill for some vodka.”

  “I have a good Russian brand upstairs,” he said. “We could sit on the couch in front of the fireplace and have a few shots. Demons don’t stand a chance against vodka.”

  Chapter 39

  I checked in with Lacey and Ash who assured me all was well and that Hawk took to the camera like a perfect little baby GQ model. When I knew he was fine without me, I took Sasha up on his offer of vodka, but only after I showered in his guest bathroom and changed into clean clothes.

  I curled up on the couch while Sasha, with damp hair of his own, poured me a glass of expensive Russian vodka. We clinked glasses and I took a tiny sip, letting it coat my tongue before swallowing. It burned on the way down.

  “I was surprised when you didn’t ask for scotch instead of vodka,” Sasha said as he went to the gas fireplace and flipped a switch. It was chilly in the loft and I grabbed the blanket that rested on the back of the couch and covered myself with it.

  “When in Rome,” I stated. “Or, when in Russia, I guess.”

  Sasha laughed and it sounded lighthearted. We’d had so little of that lately. I felt myself relaxing, sinking into the comfortable couch.

  “Thank you for today,” I said sincerely. “Thank you for everything, actually.”

  He raised his glass and then took a sip. “I hope I helped.”

  “You did. So did the kickboxing.”

  “I do that every day.”

  Not surprising, I didn’t say. From the state of his body, it was obvious.

  My phone buzzed from somewhere behind me. I realized I’d left it on the kitchen counter. Somehow, I managed to haul myself up from a very comfortable position. I set my glass of vodka down on the glass coffee table and went to answer my phone.

  It was Flynn.

  “Hi,” I said, instantly glad to know he was on the other end of the call.

  “Love,” he greeted. “How are you?”

  “I’m good.” I glanced at Sasha but he wasn’t paying any attention to me. He was staring into the fireplace, holding his glass of vodka.

  “And Hawk?” he prodded.

  “Hawk’s good.” Last time I checked which wasn’t even an hour ago. I cleared my throat. “What’s new with you?”

  He paused. “Are you all right? You sound different.”

  For some reason I didn’t want to tell him where I was or who I was with. It would open up a new stream of conversation—about my newfound anger, about my nightmares. Flynn had enough to worry about.

  “Just tired,” I said which was a half-truth.

  He made a Scottish noise in the back of his throat. “I won’t keep you long. I just wanted to tell you that Ramsey’s death will be written about in tomorrow’s paper.”

  “Getting the ball rolling, huh?” I asked.

  “Aye. Everything in its time. But Duncan and I are ready to get moving. I want you and Hawk home with me. I miss you.” His voice lowered, his sexy brogue raspy, and I knew we were moments away from inappropriate words. A delicious shiver worked its way down my spine.

  “I miss you,” I whispered.

  “Ah, love, I miss your sweet—”

  “I have to go. Hawk needs me,” I interjected, hating that I lied, but knowing I wasn’t in a place for this kind of conversation.

  He sighed. “All right.”

  I glanced at Sasha whose bright blue eyes were trained on me. I gulped and then looked away. I asked softly into the phone, “Will you be up later?”

  There was a pause followed by a husky laugh. “I’m sure of it.”

  I let out a laugh, knowing he was referring to a certain part of his anatomy. “I’ll call you back in a few hours.”

  “Promise?” he demanded.

  “Promise.”

  We hung up and I set my phone down on the counter. I took a moment to compose myself before heading back over to the couch. Looking out the large windows, I realized it was already dark. I hadn’t even noticed.

  I could feel Sasha’s eyes on me, wanting to ask questions but holding back. He wanted to know why I hadn’t told Flynn that I was with him.

  Picking up my glass of vodka, I took a hefty swallow. Savoring be damned. My arm itched and I sighed. “How are you at removing stitches?”

  The next morning while I fed Hawk with a bottle, I read the newspaper. The fake death of Ramsey Buchanan was on the front page of The New York Times. The details were vague, of course, as were his affiliations, but it made him sound like he was a ringleader in the Scottish mob.

  Close enough.

  The article also mentioned the death of Malcolm. A lump of emotion formed in my throat when I read his name in print. His death was still fresh. I kept promising myself I’d grieve for him, but so many other facets of life kept getting in the way. It sounded ruthless and terrible and it was another thing that I hated about myself—about who I was becoming.

  And then I glanced down at my hungry child and every bit of self-loathing slipped away. Anything for Hawk. Always and forever. Anything for Flynn, too, I realized, but it was different. Love for my child was pure, unadulterated.

  After Hawk finished his bottle, I gave him a bath. Though my body was sore from yesterday’s workout with Sasha, it had done the trick. I’d slept soundly, only waking when Hawk cried.

  While Hawk had his late morning nap, I called Brad Shapiro, head of security. I had barely seen him in the week and half I’d been in New York, but that was to be expected. He was busy and rarely had a minute to himself.

  I invited him up to the suite for lunch, which he graciously accepted. We ate and chatted and I asked him about adding a kickboxing gym to The Rex. He looked pleasantly surprised by my request, but agreed to it, especially when he realized I’d be using it.

  “So, what, you’re a resident badass now?” he asked.

  I laughed. “Hardly.”

  “Not from what I’ve heard.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Flynn kept you in the loop?”

  “He might have clued me in.” His hand held a glass of mineral water, but he didn’t drink from it.

  “You’re not reporting back to him, are you? Keeping a close eye on me for him?”

  “No, it’s not like that,” he insisted. “But he’s there, and you’re here, and the last few months have been rough. He’s just concerned.”

  I nodded. “It just feels like I’ve be
en running from one disaster to the next and I can barely catch my breath.” In between those moments, Flynn and I held each other and it got us through.

  We’d survived our son’s kidnapping. We’d found Hawk and our family unit was back—together, cohesive, strong. I just wished Flynn and I didn’t have to spend so much time apart.

  Brad and I finished up our lunch and then he left. On his way out, Lacey was on her way in. Though they weren’t a couple anymore, they’d worked together for years, and their exchange was warm and genuine. There was no awkwardness between them.

  Lacey set down her leather brown camera bag, but not before she took out her iPad. “Sorry, I would’ve been here sooner, but I’m still adjusting. I don’t have to work nights anymore. That’s weird for me.”

  I smiled in sympathy. “How late were you up last night?”

  She grimaced. “4 AM.”

  “Hey, you should’ve called me. I was awake.”

  Lacey chuckled. “Late night dirty chat with your husband?”

  “Fussy baby.”

  “That doesn’t sound as fun.”

  “It wasn’t.” I watched her unlock her iPad and then press a few buttons. She handed it to me and I began to scroll through black and white photos of Hawk.

  “These are very different from the photos you usually take,” I said, my finger lingering on a photo of a sleeping Hawk.

  “Hey, I got some good naked shots of your kid. But yeah, it’s not the same as snapping photos of scantily clad burlesque dancers.” She threw me a wry grin. “I got to experiment with my camera though, so that was also fun. I set it up on automatic and it took like a thousand photos in twenty seconds. Or something like that.”

  “Still learning all the nuisances of your camera?”

  “Definitely. So, I wanted to run an idea past you.”

  I handed her iPad back to her. “Shoot.”

  “I want to photograph you and Hawk together and I want it to be for the gallery show.”

  I blinked. “You’re kidding.”

  “Why would I be kidding? I’ve photographed you before,” she pointed out.

  “Yeah, but that was for—and that photo is in the privacy of my bedroom in Scotland.” Lacey had more than a knack for photography—she captured intimate moments.

  “You’d get veto power,” she said. “Come on, what do you say? You need something to keep you busy.”

  “I have things keeping me busy. I’ve started kickboxing and I’m back to running and Ash and I are going to start taking a self-defense class—”

  “Wow, so exciting. And to think, we used to drink martinis before cocktail hour. Please, Barrett? You know, if it hadn’t been for you, I never would’ve gotten back into photography. So, this—me asking you—is your fault.”

  I let out a laugh. “Okay, fine. I’m in.”

  Chapter 40

  “You really nailed that guy in the crotch,” Ash said, her blonde ponytail somehow still perky after our lesson with the self-defense instructor.

  “Yeah, well, rage helps,” I said in a teasing voice. “Besides, he was wearing a cup. I didn’t even faze him.”

  Ash collapsed onto my couch and chugged her bottle of water. “Thanks for doing this with me.”

  “I’m here at the service of my friends,” I quipped. “Lacey wants to photograph Hawk and me for her showing.”

  “Yeah, I know. It was my idea.”

  “Ah, so you both have been conspiring against me, huh?” I asked with a smile.

  “You’re photogenic, your son is photogenic, and Lacey enjoys photographing both of you. Plus, she’ll get some good shots for the family photo album. I’m sure Flynn will love them.”

  “Have you talked to Duncan? Since the ‘news’ hit about Ramsey?” I asked, using air quotes.

  “Briefly. They’re about to go underground. Spinning a web, laying a trap and all that.”

  “How are you handling all of this?” I demanded.

  “How are you?” she shot back.

  I sighed. “Fair enough. I have to go shopping for this wedding I’m going to. Want to come with me? Shopping, I mean. Not the wedding.”

  Ash’s blue eyes lit up. “Shopping? You? Really?”

  I nodded.

  “Who’s getting married?” Ash asked.

  “Alia and Jake. Alia is Lacey’s replacement at the club.”

  Conversation focused on the impending nuptials though I knew very little about the event except the time and the place.

  “Can I ask a favor? Will you babysit Hawk?” I asked her. “Though he’d look adorable in a baby suit, he’s not ready for such a formal occasion.”

  “Sure,” Ash said easily. “I’ll get to spend the night with a cute guy and Duncan can’t get jealous.” She winked at me. “Speaking of which, have you told Flynn about your kickboxing training sessions with a certain Russian?”

  I shook my head.

  “Why not?”

  “Really? You’re really asking me that?” I demanded.

  “Of course not, but spell it out anyway.”

  “Flynn knows how Sasha feels about me. If he knew I was spending a lot of time with him, it might give him something to be jealous about.”

  “Does he have the right to be jealous?”

  “No. I don’t have feelings for Sasha.”

  Ash stared at me for a long moment. “Okay.”

  “I don’t,” I protested. “It’s just that… How do I explain this? I can say anything to him and not have to worry about how it will be perceived.”

  She frowned. “You can’t do that with Flynn?”

  I took a deep breath, finally ready to let Ash all the way in to the darkness that was becoming part of me. “I have nightmares. Ever since Vlad and Dolinsky, I have nightmares. And now I have them about Winters too.”

  “About you killing them?” she asked gently.

  “Sometimes. But there’s more.”

  “Hey, you can tell me,” she said when I stopped speaking.

  “This doesn’t go beyond these walls,” I stated. “And after today, we don’t speak of it ever again.”

  She nodded. “I understand.”

  I told her one of my more graphic nightmares, watching her eyes widen in shock. When I went silent, she didn’t speak for a while, digesting what I’d shared with her.

  “And that’s why I can’t tell Flynn.”

  “But you can tell Sasha?” she asked in confusion.

  I shook my head. “No, I haven’t told him anything explicit, but when he was in Scotland, we’d go for late night walks, just the two of us and just—I don’t know, he understands my demons without me having to spell it out for him. If I told Flynn, it would just hurt him.”

  “You think if you told Flynn that you have sexual dreams about Dolinsky that will hurt him. Yeah, that makes a lot of sense.”

  “It will just remind Flynn of my time with Dolinsky and that Flynn didn’t protect me. It will bring up a lot of guilt.”

  We were quiet again, and I listened for any sound from Hawk, but he wasn’t stirring. Ash got up and began to pace. She looked at me.

  “Dreams aren’t always literal,” she said.

  “The one thing that’s always the same is Dolinsky. He tells me that he’s all my dark parts that I keep mashing down and he’s just a mirror of my gruesome, ugly—”

  “Hey,” Ash cuts me off. “There’s nothing ugly about you. You’ve lived through some things. Terrible things.”

  “And done some things no one should ever have to do. But I’ve done them and now I have nightmares.”

  She bit her lip as she contemplated what she wanted to say next, and then finally, “Did you have feelings for Dolinsky? Do you still have unresolved feelings for him?”

  I closed my eyes when I nodded.

  “Oh, man…”

  Maybe I did need to tell Flynn everything. But how would that help? I loved Flynn. I’d done everything in my power to get back to him, but maybe along the journey, I’d gotten l
ost in the part I’d been playing. Dolinsky had been charming and courteous, gentlemanly, but upfront about what he wanted from me. He’d been an expert in seduction, demanding when necessary. I had very little doubt that if I’d stayed locked up as his prisoner, I would’ve succumbed to his charms.

  He’d made me feel powerful in my sexuality. He’d unleashed a part of me that I hadn’t been aware existed—and he never let me apologize for it. He had wanted everything from me and he hadn’t accepted anything less.

  But I still felt like I was treating Flynn with a pair of kid gloves and I knew that wasn’t fair.

  “I think it’s time I stopped feeling guilty,” I said slowly. “I don’t think I ever really let go of that.”

  “Listen, I’m the last person to judge you for having feelings for a man who isn’t your husband. I had an affair with my ex-fiancé’s father, if you remember.”

  Hawk began to cry and thankfully our conversation was put on hold while I went to tend to him. I still didn’t believe unloading everything onto Flynn would help assuage my guilt, but telling Ash had alleviated some of my burden.

  And in the meantime, there was always kickboxing.

  “Oh, no, dear, not that strapless one,” Celine, the boutique assistant said when I came out of the dressing room in a strapless black dress.

  Ash frowned from her seat in a comfortable chair. “I think it’s lovely.”

  “I like it, too. It’s the only one that shows off my amazing cleavage but it’s still loose enough around the waist that I don’t have to wear something to hold in my stomach,” I protested. “I know it’s winter, but I’ll be inside. So what’s wrong with the dress?”

  The gown hit a few inches above my knee, so it was a good length and didn’t chop me in half. What was the problem?

  Celine looked at me with shrewd brown eyes and gently touched my left arm where the stitches had been recently removed. It was still red and clearly obvious to any observer. I didn’t want to have to wear a shawl the entire evening.

  I looked at Ash for her opinion.

  “Fuck it,” she said with a shrug. “The dress looks great on you.”

  Celine blanched, but I looked at her and smiled. “Thank you for your help. I’ll take this dress.”