Sinfully Yours, Sir

by Laylah Roberts

  Dylan studied Rogan. He wondered why Rogan had ended up in the business rather than getting out like he’d talked about when he was younger.

  “What?” Rogan asked

  Dylan shook his head. “Not the place.” He rubbed his eyes. “Shit, I’m tired. What’s the time?”

  “Nearly two in the morning.”

  “God, Tilly’s probably frantic.” He patted his pockets for his phone then remembered he’d given it to Cillian. “Hey, have you got my phone, Brandt?”

  “Yeah, I put them both in the glove box for safekeeping. I’ll get them when we stop.”

  Dylan sat back and closed his eyes for a moment. He was absolutely exhausted. He’d been so busy the last few days with Rogan that he’d barely seen Tilly. It was hard on both of them, especially so early on in their relationship.

  He had really missed Tilly over these last few days, and he couldn’t wait to get home and cuddle up next to her in bed. They’d barely had any time to themselves in the last few days.

  Well, there was no point in texting her now, she’d be fast asleep. They’d deal with Miller, go home, and then they’d leave San Antonio and this mess behind them. He’d miss Rogan and Aedan, but now that they’d reconnected he could make more of an effort to see them.

  Brandt drove the car to an empty parking lot. There was an old cemetery on one side and some empty buildings across the road.

  “My contact is going to meet us here,” he told them. “He’ll take us to where she’s being held.”

  Rogan reached under the seat, and suddenly the middle of the bench seat opened up to reveal three handguns and ammunition. Reaching in, Rogan passed him a gun. Dylan took the gun with a nod and checked it over. The safety was on, and it was fully loaded. They’d been driving around with loaded guns in the car.

  “There better not have been loaded guns when Tilly was in the car,” he warned as Brandt stepped out of the car. Rogan just looked at him.

  “Of course not,” he said. Dylan couldn’t tell if he was lying or not.

  They both climbed out of the car. Brandt seemed a bit on edge, smoking furiously on a cigarette. Dylan guessed he was impatient, waiting for his informant to turn up.

  “Who did you get this info from?” Rogan asked.

  “One of their own,” Brandt replied. “He turned for a little cash. Gang loyalty isn’t their strength.”

  Rogan snorted. “Do they have any strengths?”

  Finally, a dark car pulled up and the driver climbed out. He was a huge man with long hair and a shaggy beard. The back seat opened, and a thinner man appeared. He reached in and dragged out a half-conscious girl. Her dark hair lay in dirty tangles around her head. Her thin clothing was ripped and filthy. She gazed around her through glassy, drugged eyes.

  Dylan took a sharp breath as recognition hit him. He’d seen a photo of her at Tilly’s apartment, but this fragile, bruised girl was nothing like the happy woman in those photos.

  “Miller,” he said.

  Rogan stiffened. “You’re not from the Seven Sinners. You’re Iker’s men.”

  The skinny guy smiled. It wasn’t a pleasant look. “That’s right.” He shoved the girl on the ground then pulled out his gun, aiming it at her head. She sat on the ground in a dejected heap.

  Dylan bet she didn’t even realize what was going on. Probably just as well, as things were about to get nasty.

  The larger man drew a gun as well and aimed it at Rogan.

  “Are you crazy? Do you know who I am?” he asked without a hint of arrogance.

  “Oh, we know exactly who you are,” the skinny man said.

  “Iker will kill you for this,” Rogan said. “If I leave him anything by the time I’m through with you.”

  The skinny guy laughed. “Who do you think set this all up?”

  Miller moaned and Dylan glanced over at her. “So you had her all along?” Christ, he felt ill. All this time when he’d believed Iker. He thought she’d run off. Who knew what hell she’d been through?

  “Iker lied to me,” Rogan said. “This calls for blood.”

  “Yeah, yours,” the skinny guy sneered.

  “You miscalculated. You’re outnumbered.”

  “Actually, they’re not.” Brandt stepped away from them and drew his gun, aiming it at Rogan.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Rogan asked in a cold voice. “Have you lost your mind? You’re in bed with the Vipers?”

  “Oh, I’m thinking very clearly. As soon as you’re gone I’ll be taking over. I’ll finally take us back to what we were meant to be. You’ve weakened us with all this legitimate shit, you’ve turned us into a laughing stock. Drop the guns.”

  Brandt turned his gun from Rogan to Miller. Fuck. Dylan dropped his gun on the ground and kicked it away. Rogan did the same.

  “I’ve weakened us? Do you know how much money we make from our legitimate business?” Rogan asked.

  “We can earn more the old way, through drugs, guns, and pussy.”

  Rogan just stared at him. “I don’t know you at all, do I?”

  “You were too busy to notice I was plotting right under your nose.”

  “The Seven Sinners were never a part of this, were they?” Rogan asked.

  “Those idiots? No, I just used them to keep you busy while I prepared to get rid of you. Everyone knows how much you hate them for killing your friend. So I figured you wouldn’t question me if I turned the blame their way. You’d jump at any chance to get back at them.”

  “What does Iker get out of this?” Rogan asked.

  “You were refusing to take part in a good business opportunity. Fizz is going to be bigger than crystal meth. It just takes a visionary to see that.”

  “You kill us and someone is going to work it out. Cillian knows you were with us,” Dylan said easily as he tried to figure out the best way of taking these guys. They might have the guns, but he’d been a Marine and he wasn’t going down without a fight.

  Brandt snapped his fingers. “I knew I forgot something.” He moved around to the trunk of the car. He opened it then dragged out an unconscious Cillian and dropped him on the ground.

  Or was he unconscious? Dylan narrowed his gaze. He could have sworn he saw him wince as he landed on the ground.

  “What’s the plan?” Rogan asked. “You shoot us and frame the Seven Sinners?”

  “Got it in one,” Brandt said almost gleefully. “No one knows I’m here. They’re all going to think that the Seven Sinners killed you when you tried to rescue Miller. I even sent Tilly a text from Dylan’s phone telling her what you were doing. I’m sorry it had to come to this, Rogan. I never wanted to kill you myself, but it seems you can’t rely on others to do the job for you.”

  “The ambush two months ago,” Rogan guessed. “Jimmy’s info wasn’t wrong. You leaked information to the Seven Sinners. It’s your fault that bastard got away from me.”

  “You shouldn’t have been involving us in your personal business. Who cares about some little nobody who shot your friend fifteen years ago?”

  Rogan was trying to find Lucas’ killer?

  Rage clear on his face, his hands curling into fists, Rogan took a step forward.

  “You bastard, I’ll kill you!” Rogan leaped at a shocked Brandt, throwing him to the ground.

  Dylan dove for his gun and rolled as bullets pinged around him, one coming dangerously close to his head. He returned fire as he jumped to his feet and ran. Standing still was only going to get him shot. A bullet struck his arm and he grunted with pain as fire engulfed him.

  He dove behind the car and then rose, firing quickly, trying to take stock of his surroundings. Rogan and Brandt were fighting on the ground. Cillian was gone. Thank God. He didn’t need to worry about him getting in the line of fire.

  But the girl was still there, bound and in shock.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  How many rounds did he have left? Not enough, that was for sure. He needed to make them count. He popped up again and aimed a
t the large man, firing off two rounds.

  There was a scream of pain.

  He allowed himself a small grin, adrenaline pumping through him.

  A feminine voice cried out. Fuck. He peeked over the car to see that the skinny guy had wised up. He’d hauled Miller to her feet and had her in front of him, his gun pressed against her temple.

  “Come out, come out, wherever you are,” he said in a crazed voice. “Come out, come out, or I shoot her head off.”

  Dylan cursed quietly under his breath. He slowly stood.

  “Put the gun down and raise your hands, asshole.”

  Dylan slowly complied, trying not to look at Cillian as he snuck up behind the skinny guy, a brick in his hand.

  Rogan and Brandt were still going for it, but Dylan wasn’t worried about them. Rogan could take care of himself.

  The skinny guy grinned, certain he had won. “Good, now say bye-bye, world.” He raised his gun at Dylan just as Cillian swung the brick, hitting him in the head. For a moment, he stood there, then he slowly crumpled to the ground.

  The girl dropped with him. Dylan wasn’t sure if she’d fainted or was injured. He grabbed his gun and raced around the car as another car pulled up. Fuck, more of the bastards?

  Dylan raised his gun.

  ***

  “What do we do?” Tilly asked Aedan as he put down his phone.

  Aedan frowned. “Rogan’s not answering his phone and neither is Cillian.”

  “They’re in trouble, Aedan. I feel it.”

  “Okay, I know which restaurant they were at. I’ll head over and see if they’re still there.”

  “Shouldn’t we get some help? Colm’s asleep upstairs, we could get him or call Brandt,” she suggested.

  Aedan shook his head. “Rogan thinks he’s got a traitor, but he hasn’t figured out who it is. Best not to trust anyone right now.”

  “I’m coming with you,” she said, following him out of the room.

  He turned, looking down at her fiercely. “No way. If they really are in trouble, Dylan will have a fit if you turn up.”

  “You let me worry about Dylan. He can spank my butt every night for a month. I’m still coming with you.”

  “It’s not your butt I was worried about,” Aedan muttered. His phone rang and he grabbed it out of his pocket.

  Tilly waited anxiously, hoping it was Rogan or Dylan.

  “How did you get this number?” Aedan snapped. “What?” His face grew alarmed. “How do you know that?”

  Aedan glanced at her then away. “How do I know this is good information? All right…yeah…okay.”

  He shut off the call and put his phone back in his pocket. “Go and wake Colm. Tell him it’s urgent.”

  “You know where they are?”

  “If Jimmy’s info is good,” Aedan said grimly.

  “Jimmy?” she questioned.

  “Yes, that was him on the phone. I’ll explain on the way. Get Colm.”

  “What are you doing?” she asked as he turned away.

  “Getting us some guns.”

  ***

  Dylan stood over Miller’s crumpled body, determined to protect her as the driver’s door opened and Colm stepped out.

  Thank God.

  “Don’t shoot,” Colm called out, holding his hands out.

  Dylan realized that he was still aiming his gun at the other man. He started to lower it then realized he didn’t know if Brandt was the only traitor in the gang.

  “How did you know we were here?” he asked, keeping his gun aimed at the other man.

  “Dylan! Are you okay?”

  Dylan gaped in shock as Tilly climbed out of the back of the car and started toward him. Luckily, Aedan jumped out of the front passenger seat and grabbed her.

  “It’s okay, we’re the good guys,” Aedan called out. “Now you wanna get rid of that gun before I let this one go?” He held Tilly in a bear hug, her back to his front. She struggled to get out of his hold.

  “Damn it, Aedan, let me go.”

  “Hold on to her, Aedan,” Dylan countered. “I don’t want her near this.”

  He put the safety on, then stuck his gun in the back of his jeans and leaning down, searched for Miller’s pulse.

  Still breathing. Thank God.

  “Is she alive?” Tilly cried out. “Please tell me she’s alive.”

  “She’s okay,” Dylan told her. “Just passed out.”

  “Think we should do something about those two?” Colm asked, walking over to him. He nodded at Rogan and Brandt. Rogan had the upper hand and he was straddling Brandt’s body. He landed a heavy punch to Brandt’s nose and there was a loud crack.

  “Yeah, I’ll deal with it. You secure these idiots.”

  Colm took off his belt, tied the skinny guy’s hands behind his back. “You okay, man?” he asked Cillian, who was sitting on the ground, looking a bit dazed.

  “Yeah, just took a bang to the head. I’m good.”

  “Good, give me your belt.”

  Dylan left the two of them to sort it out as he strode toward Rogan and Brandt.

  “Aedan let me go!” Tilly yelled.

  “Don’t let her go, Aedan,” Dylan countered. “Cover her eyes.”

  Tilly cursed loudly as Aedan placed a hand over her eyes. Then it was Aedan’s turn to curse. Dylan looked over to see Aedan swinging her over his shoulder.

  “That’s what you get for kicking me, brat,” Aedan told her. Dylan raised an eyebrow at his dominant tone then he turned his attention to Rogan.

  He crouched down. “Rogan, man, time to stop. He’s had enough.”

  “Don’t care,” Rogan said.

  “You can kill him later. Right now, I need your help cleaning up this mess.” Rogan ignored him. “Rogan, you’re scaring Tilly.”

  Rogan landed one more punch then sat back, breathing heavily. Dylan searched for Brandt’s pulse. He was alive. For the moment, anyway.

  Rogan stood, breathing heavily.

  “How much of that blood is yours?” Dylan asked. Rogan was a mess. His clothing was torn and blood-spattered. His right eye was already swollen and puffy and blood was pouring out of his nose.

  “Not much,” Rogan replied. He flicked his gaze over to where Tilly was threatening Aedan with bodily harm if he didn't put her down.

  “Tilly, be quiet,” Rogan ordered. “Everything is all right now. Cillian, you okay?”

  “Just a headache and some scratches boss. Bastard.” He spat on Brandt’s prone form. “I thought he was one of us. I let my guard down around him and he hit me with something. Next thing I know I’m in the trunk of the car.”

  “You saved my life,” Dylan said clamping his hand down on Cillian’s shoulder. “I owe you.”

  At the rate he was going he’d be paying off his debts until he was old and gray. This last week he’d been skating the edge of the law and it wasn’t a place he liked to be. Tonight had tipped him right off that line. This wasn’t his world. But he would do anything for Tilly. No matter what lines he had to cross, keeping her safe was his main priority.

  Because his life meant nothing without her in it.

  “Good. We need this mess cleaned up. Dylan, Aedan, take the girls back to the house. Aedan, call the doc for the girl. We can’t take her to the hospital.” He waved his hand at Miller.

  “Are you sure? I can stay and help,” Dylan offered.

  Rogan shook his head. “Get out of here. This isn’t your mess to clean up and you have a lot to lose if you get caught. Plus, you should get that arm examined.”

  Rogan nodded at his arm. Dylan glanced down.

  Ahh, shit, Tilly was going to have a fit when she found out he’d been shot.

  ***

  “I can’t believe you got shot!” Tilly fussed with his blankets, tucking them in tighter. As soon as the doc had fixed up his arm, which had only really been a graze, Tilly had insisted he go to bed.

  He’d agreed because he had figured it was the quickest and easiest way to get her to
rest. She looked absolutely shattered. Her eyes were wide and wild in her pale, drawn face. But instead of taking his cues to come to bed, she was flitting about the room, fiddling with things that didn’t need fixing.

  She was wired and probably in shock from everything she’d seen tonight. He’d seen his share of violence and he was used to adrenaline surges and the inevitable crashes. This wasn’t the first time he’d even been shot. But in the last week, Tilly had had to deal with a missing friend, a gang threatening her, seeing a man beaten near to death and having her boyfriend shot.

  “Tilly, come here,” he said gently. He was about to crash and he wanted her safely tucked up next to him before that happened.

  Tilly shook her head. “I’ll get you some water for those pain pills.” She moved into the attached bathroom before Dylan could tell her not to bother. He had no intention of taking those pills. They’d just make him sleepier and now wasn’t the time for him to be drugged. Even though Rogan had put extra guards on the house, he didn’t feel totally at ease.

  He knew he’d be sleeping lightly until they left San Antonio. Things were unstable right now. Rogan had been betrayed by his second and by the leader of another gang, who he was supposed to have a co-operation agreement with. If more blood wasn’t shed, Dylan would be surprised.

  Tilly returned with a glass of water in her hand. She placed it on the bedside table then grabbed the bottle of pills.

  “Okay, the doctor said you can have two of these every six hours.” She struggled to undo the top. “Damn it, why do they make these bottles so hard to get into….” She banged the top of the bottle against the edge of the bedside table.

  “Tilly, give me the bottle,” he said.

  She ignored him, dropping the bottle on the ground and raising her foot as though to stomp on it.

  “Tilly, stop!” he said in his sternest voice.

  Shocked, she gaped at him. He hadn’t wanted to get so firm with her, but he couldn’t think of another way of getting through to her. She wasn’t thinking properly.

  “Pick up the bottle and hand it to me,” he told her in a calm, low voice. Exhaustion was pulling at him. He was desperate for some sleep, but he couldn’t allow himself to be pulled under until he knew she was resting.