“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 it. And there’s nothing I can do about it.
To be continued…
One Last Sin
Book Three
Sinclair Breckenridge is my husband. We’re up and coming leaders to The Fellowship and parents to be. But my new life doesn’t come easily. Not when long buried secrets––and far more than I bargained for––finally reveal my mother’s killer.
Sin vows to do anything to keep our little ones and me safe, even if his promise means denying me of the one thing I want most in this world. He doesn’t understand it’s the death of my dream. And that’s a problem.
Chapter 1
Bleu Breckenridge
Oh, Stella Bleu. You are in some deep shit this time.
I’m trapped in the back seat between two of my three kidnappers: Broden and The Order member poking a gun into my side. I’d like to see how tough he is without a pistol in his hand. I’m certain I could kick his ass. But I’m pregnant. I can’t risk putting my babies in danger.
“You know, the gun does the same job if you simply point it at me.”
He rams it into my ribs a little harder. “Shut up.”
Despite the goon’s obvious lack of experience, this situation couldn’t be worse. My wrists are bound and I’m hooded. I’m concentrating on my breathing, talking myself down from a panic attack. In slow and deep. Out steady and gradual.
Broden and his thugs have made it impossible for me to do anything but sit, wait, and see what they have in store for me. None of which I’m good at doing.
Why couldn’t they have put me in the trunk? At least there, I could’ve busted the latch and made a run for it.
Right. That’s why.
My captors drive about twenty minutes before making a final stop. Broden grips my upper arm and plucks me roughly from the car. It pisses me off. I jerk my arm from his hold once I regain my balance. “I’m mobile. You don’t have to yank me around like a rag doll.”
“Damn, ye are a mouthy little bitch. I bet ye give Sinclair hell.”
He removes my head covering. We’re at an isolated warehouse. I don’t recognize my surroundings so I study the details, the ones that speak without words. A shiny metal fence, unoxidized by the elements, around the building’s perimeter. And the building’s new, which means this premises is probably recently acquired. This might be a problem except Sin has hired Debra to watch all moves made by The Order, including any new property they obtain. That’s reassuring.
The building’s exterior is well covered by security cameras. Whatever’s inside, they mean to keep it safe.
I’m ushered into the warehouse under Broden’s firm guidance. I study the wooden crates I pass as I’m steered through the building. They’re marked with a language other than English.
My final destination is a dark, tiny space in the corner of the warehouse. Probably originally a storage room. I don’t fight going inside. It would be useless.
I’m walking through the doorway when Broden delivers a firm shove against my upper back. I twist my body as I go down to prevent landing belly first. A searing pain ignites in my shoulder and hip.
I keep my mouth shut, despite the pain. To yell out would give them too much satisfaction.
The man called Reuben uses his foot to nudge me over on to my back so he can zip tie my ankles together. It’s terribly uncomfortable lying on bound hands but my complaints would only fall upon deaf ears.
“Can’t have ye running off. Mr. Grieve wouldn’t be at all happy about that.”
Broden stands over us, monitoring Reuben’s handiwork. “Tighter, ye fool.”
I roll to my side when he’s finished so I can regain sensation in my hands. “No attempts to escape, Mrs. Breckenridge. I can promise ye that we won’t hesitate to kill ye now instead of later.”
Kill me now instead of later?
My kidnapping is about more than a trade for bomb makings. They mean to kill me regardless of the exchange.
If I die, my babies die with me. That can’t happen.
Zip-tie restraints are useless on the wrong people. Most don’t understand that the tighter, the better for the one bound by them. Lucky for me, Reuben and Broden made mine exceptionally taut.
After they’re gone, I roll to my stomach and wiggle until I’m kneeling. I position the tie l
ock clasp between my wrists so it’s facing outward since it’s the weakest spot. I lift my arms and bring them down hard against my butt, spreading my elbows on impact. Once. Twice. Again and again, six times before the tie clasp finally breaks.
I stand and bunny-hop to the door. I lie down and lift my legs, slamming the ties against the frame until I break the restraints around my ankles.
I check the door. The knob turns but it’s barricaded from the other side. No surprise there.
I have no way out. There’s nothing for me to do but wait.
I sit on the cold concrete floor for hours before my kidnappers return with a fourth man I’ve yet to meet. But we need no introduction. Intuition tells me who he is. Torrence Grieve.
Tall and lanky, slightly humped with a dropped shoulder. His head is slick as an onion but he sports a black and gray goatee. It’s in need of a grooming.
He sneers. “My, my. Aren’t you the clever one?”
I don’t reply.
“Mrs. Breckenridge. I’m sure you’re aware that ten o’clock has come and gone.” I’m not wearing a watch but I suspected as much.
The bloody message on the wall stated I might survive the night if Sin returned the bomb makings to their warehouse by 2200. “Have you come to take me to my husband for the exchange?”
He shakes his head. “Your husband didn’t show.”
He’s lying. Sin would not leave me in the hands of The Order. “I don’t believe you.”
“Thane came in his son’s place. He tells us Sinclair encountered a bit of a mess on the drive over. Seems he ran into Detective Buchanan and got himself arrested for murder.”
“Whose?”
“One of your own. Malcolm something, I believe.”
No. No. No. Sin can’t be charged with Malcolm Irvine’s murder. It was me. I’m the one who killed him.
“Your father-in-law made a hard barter for you. He was willing to trade everything The Fellowship has in exchange for his son’s wife. That has me wondering what makes you so special. So valuable.”
Complete Sin Box Set Page 46
