Dark Sins

by Charlotte Byrd

  My dad swallows hard and our eyes meet. His are full of mist.

  "That man raped and tortured a little boy," he says after a long pause. "He kept him in his house for days and then paid his mother a big bounty not to tell the cops."

  "How do you know any of this?"

  "The father wanted him dead. The father didn't care about the blood money that he paid to make up for his mistakes. That kid will be traumatized for the rest of his life because of that sick fuck. I can show you all of the conversations. As you know, I keep very good records."

  My father may be a liar, but I’ve known him long enough to know when he’s telling the truth.

  "Fine,” I say, "but what about the others? Were they also terrible and you're the only one that has all this secret knowledge about them?"

  "Yes," my father says with a casual shrug. "It's hard to believe, I know, but you did not eliminate anyone who hadn't killed or tortured or raped at least one other person. I didn't want to bog you down with the details, but I’m more than willing to share them at your convenience.”

  "That doesn't make it okay," I say, shaking my head.

  "Probably not, but in the grand scheme of things, there is a little bit of an eye for an eye going on. And yes, when I told you that they had it coming, I wasn't lying. I was telling you the truth. I always told you the truth. I never wanted either of you to be part of anything that was bad."

  "So what about this job?" I ask, taking another sip and relaxing just a little bit, suddenly feeling at ease even though I probably shouldn't.

  "This case is different, no murder, nothing with blood. You just have to break into this house and you have to break into the safe in a secret basement and you have to steal a book."

  “Tell me about it." I sit back.

  "It's the first Folio of Shakespeare."

  "What does that mean?" I ask.

  “William Shakespeare plays used to be published as collections in these big books called Folios. The first Folio is a collection of plays published in 1623. It is one of the rarest books in the English language.

  There are only fifty-six Folios in the world, and this is the one that is the most well preserved. One copy sold at auction in New York for over $6.1 million in 2001. Recently an anonymous buyer bought it for $9.98 million.”

  “Is this the one that happens to be in the house in Montauk?” I ask.

  He nods, giving me a mischievous smile.

  “On the black market, it's probably worth over $12 million.”

  I pick up my phone and I see the Shakespeare folios, all later editions, tend to run over $7 million.

  "This one is special," Dad continues, looking over my shoulder. “It’s in great condition and the buyer has no plans to sell it, which makes it rare and scarce. Collectors will pay anything and this is one of the most expensive, rare books in the world and I have a buyer for it."

  "Why do you need this $12 million so badly?” I ask, reading that glint in his eye as desperation.

  "Because it's $12 fucking million dollars. This is my retirement. And the thing is that I need to retire as soon as possible."

  I shake my head. There it is again, that cryptic conversation. He's told us some of the truth, but not all of it and that's always been the way it has been with Dad.

  He will reveal just enough to keep you on the hook, but keep some things to himself just in case.

  It's a security blanket or maybe an insurance policy. But in this case, I need to know everything.

  I swirl the scotch in my glass and watch the amber-colored liquid cover the ice in little waves. When I look up at him, and our eyes meet, I ask, "Who wants you dead?"

  33

  Dante

  My dad hesitates. He's trying to buy himself time, but I have plenty of it and I wait. Lincoln doesn't look as eager, but I put my finger up and tell him to stay calm, in not so many words.

  "This time, Dad, I need to hear everything." I swallow and adjust my body, swinging my arms around the back of the couch.

  "I did this deal," he says. "Maybe I shouldn't have, but I did. Somebody wanted one of the Crown princes of Saudi Arabia murdered.”

  “Someone in the family?” I ask.

  "The uncle," he says, "if we're being completely honest. It's a large family with about 15,000 crown princes. So there are plenty of enemies and plenty of friends and allies. They paid me a lot of money. I probably should have relied on you and your help, but neither of you were returning my calls. I was desperate. I had gambled a lot and I had lost a lot. My relationship with Miriam has fallen apart and, of course, I got nothing in the divorce. It got so bad that I couldn't afford the rent on the $2,000 a month condo."

  Wow, that is bad, I say silently to myself.

  When rich people talk about losing money, they make a big deal about every little bit. But I’ve never heard it be put so bluntly about just how little money he had.

  "It was a dark time in my life and I was drinking a lot. I just kept gambling, trying to make up for all of these debts that I owed. But no matter how much I won, I could never get ahead. There were just more and more bills.”

  Lincoln and I exchange looks.

  "I hope you two never know what it's like to be actually poor, but it reminded me a lot of what my life used to be before I met your mother. Your mind is just so full of thoughts about money. It's the most banal thing to think about; how to pay the rent, how to make it from one month to the next, but you can't not think of it because what else would you think about?”

  Dad hesitates for a moment and I actually feel bad for him.

  "The casinos were an escape. The card tables were a hope. And at that time, I needed a lot of hope,” he continues. “So, I kept trying and I kept losing more and more. And at one point, I owed over $200,000 to someone who shall remain nameless. I played games that I shouldn't have played, bad underground ones full of dirty money and people who spoke with accents.”

  He finishes his drink and pours himself another. The silence in the room is deafening.

  "Just like you, I tried to get away from doing the one job that I was ever really good at, and that is killing people. I tried to get away from it, but when I was all out of options, that was all I had. And so I went back.

  “An old buddy of mine told me about a secret hit, more secret than even all the others, against this Crown prince in Saudi Arabia. He was going to be visiting New York City, and it was supposed to be done so that he had a heart attack, nothing violent. Of course, the family would be suspicious, but there wouldn't be any proof of who was involved.

  “The price was half a million dollars. It was more than enough to pay off my debts. It was more than enough to put me back in the black and have a little nest egg to start my life over. Does that sound familiar, Dante?"

  Dad finally brings his eyes back to mine.

  I nod. It's much more familiar than I would ever want to admit. I hate that about my family. We're so alike and no matter what I do with my life, I seem to never be able to get away from it. This darkness just keeps pushing me further and further down.

  “I did this job. Poison. I'll spare you the details if you don't want to hear them, but it was blamed on the Russians, at least that's what the family said publicly. But privately, they interrogated this uncle who paid me the money. And you know what he did? He confessed. They used various methods of interrogation. Not exactly on the up-and-up but then again, what about that family is on the up-and-up?”

  I shake my head, not wanting to hear the rest.

  "My name was never supposed to be revealed. There were supposed to be at least two or three people in between us so no one would know, so it would be easier to protect myself. But they all talked. They followed the chain and they pinpointed me. And now, they're out for blood.”

  I crack my knuckles, not knowing whether to punch him or hug him.

  "I can't trust any of my old colleagues or people I used to call friends. The Crown family has so much money that they can pay off anybo
dy and get them to do anything. And if that doesn't work, they can threaten their families and their loved ones and get the information that way. It's a carrot-on-a-stick situation, and one of those things will make just about anyone confess."

  "Where do we come in?" I ask.

  "You come in because you're the last people that I know that I can trust. I know that we've had our disagreements and you were right, most of the time, I was a terrible father. I shouldn't have introduced either of you to this lifestyle. I should have just kept you in the dark, being two rich little boys who listened to their mother.”

  “I wouldn’t recommend throwing out insults when you’re asking for help,” I correct him.

  "I was stupid. I was drunk. I was irresponsible,” Dad continues. “I was everything you want to call me, and I take all responsibility for all of my actions. But mostly, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for never being there for you and for leaving you and for lying and for everything that I've done. You two deserve a lot more, and you deserve somebody who would love you and cherish you as two wonderful boys, and now the men that you are."

  "What do you want, Dad?" I ask, glancing over at Lincoln and seeing that he is on the verge of tears. Our father has never apologized. He never even came close. So, to hear these words pouring out of him now, it’s a little more than either of us can really handle.

  "I need your help because I need to steal this Folio. I need to sell it. I need to get this money, and I need it to last me for the rest of my life if I have any chance of living another three months, three years, thirty years."

  "And what's going to change? I mean, your life has been in danger before," I say. "What's going to be different this time?”

  “I’m going to make changes. They fucking stabbed me and I barely got away. I don’t want any more close calls like that.”

  Lincoln and I exchange looks.

  “Boys, there’s something else,” Dad says with a heavy heart. "They're not just going to come for me. They're going to come for all of you and all of your loved ones. They're out for blood. And if it means taking out five people who are the closest to me, then that's what it means."

  My blood runs cold.

  "What are you talking about?" Lincoln says.

  "It's not just my life that's in danger," Dad reiterates. "It's your mother's. It's yours. It's Marguerite's and your new baby and Jacqueline's. And who knows? Maybe even her mother's, too. Anyone you care about.”

  My mouth becomes parched and I stare at him in disbelief. He gives me a nod, biting his lower lip.

  "How do you know about Jacqueline?" I ask.

  "I know because they know. I've put you all in danger, and now I need your help to get you out."

  34

  Jacqueline

  When the call doesn’t connect to Sergeant Mallory, I dial his number over and over again, but I don’t get through.

  Was that just an accidental call I wonder. Or did he get distracted? Is something keeping him from calling me?

  I don't know the answer to any of these questions. I stare at my phone and then pace around the room.

  I call Allison back, but she barely looks at me when she tells me more about Richard.

  "What are you doing, Jacqueline?" She demands to know. “Are you even there? Are you even listening?”

  The truth is that I'm not. I'm completely, single-mindedly focused on why Sergeant Mallory would call me. Why did he call me? What did he find?

  When I tell Allison about the call, she tells me not to get my hopes up.

  “It’s probably about the letter,” I stress.

  “What if it’s a joke?” she asks.

  I shake my head no.

  “What if it's someone trying to tell us something? Someone who can't get through any other way.”

  “Well, does it change anything?"

  "What are you talking about?" I ask.

  “Does it change anything about Michael's death? He's still dead.”

  “Of course, it changes things. I thought that he died in a car accident, just run-of-the-mill, plain old car accident. And now it seems like somebody actually tried to get him killed. That's murder and I have to find out the truth.”

  “I know you do, but I just want you to be prepared.”

  “I cannot be prepared. This is the first bit of news that makes any sense.” "Does it though?" she asks, tilting her head. “Does it make sense or do you just want it to make sense?"

  "I'm not crazy, Allison!" I snap.

  “I'm not saying that you are. I'm just saying that you're hurt and you miss your brother and I want you to protect yourself.”

  “You know what?” I ask, my blood boiling. “It's easy for you to just go on with your life, okay? You went out with him like once and you can make new friends, but he was family to me. If something happened to you, I would do the same thing. I would want to find out the truth. I wouldn’t just pretend and bury my head in the sand and say, ‘Oh, it's fine, probably was an accident after all.’"

  I hang up.

  I don't want to see her face anymore. Allison calls me back a few times, but I let them all go to voice mail.

  A few very long hours later, Sergeant Mallory finally calls me back. My hand shakes as I answer.

  After a little bit of small talk, that I struggle to keep up with, I get to the point.

  "Why are you calling, Sergeant?" I finally ask.

  “Well, I wanted to tell you that we got a lead in the case.”

  "You did?" I gasp, my head nodding.

  “I don't know how to tell you this, but it seems to be that there was some sort of forgery involved in your brother's case.”

  "What do you mean?”

  “Well, it's all very preliminary, but I thought that I would call you and get in touch.”

  He's talking in circles. This is his way and I let him go on because I need to know the truth.

  “We have discovered that there might have been some irregularities about the confirmation of the dental records.”

  My head starts to buzz. The grip on the teacup in my hand starts to loosen and I slam it down on the kitchen counter before I drop it completely.

  “So, that's not his body?” I whisper.

  “It's not clear yet, but the confirmation doesn't seem to be accurate. We need your mother's permission to get his other records from a different dentist. Once we get that, we'll know for sure.”

  "What does this mean?" I ask.

  “It means that that might not have been him in that accident and that might not be Michael’s body that we got from that accident in the first place.”

  “Do you think he might be… alive?”

  A gasp gets caught in my throat.

  “I don't know what to think. I don't know who that body belongs to, but as it looks now, it does not belong to Michael Jonathan Archer, your brother.”

  I gasp. I hear him hesitating.

  “There’s something else,” he says after a moment.

  “What? Tell me everything!” I demand.

  “We found a photograph of your brother and Dante together.”

  I shake my head in disbelief.

  “I’m not sure what it means yet, but the one thing that does seem to be true is that Dante and Michael know each other.”

  Thank you for reading DARK SINS! I hope you are enjoying Jacqueline and Dante’s romance. Their story continues in Dark Temptations.

  1-click Dark Temptations now!

  I pushed her away to keep my secrets to myself. What I don’t yet know is that her life is already in danger.

  I have so many regrets. If we had never met, she’d be safe now.

  Some love stories are a slow burn.

  Ours was quick to ignite, scorching and branding our souls before we’ve even taken that first breath.

  1-click Dark Temptations now!

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  About Charlotte Byrd

  Charlotte Byrd is the bestselling author of romantic suspense novels. She has sold over 1 Million books and has been translated into five languages.

  She lives near Palm Springs, California with her husband, son, a toy Australian Shepherd and a Ragdoll cat. Charlotte is addicted to books and Netflix and she loves hot weather and crystal blue water.

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