Saved by a Sinner

by A G Henderson

  It bothered me, how willing I had been. How great it had felt. Almost as much as the effect of his touch bothered me.

  In one evening, more words had spilled from my mouth than I’d uttered in the last few years combined. His presence alone was a soothing salve on the familiar panic, easing it enough to make speaking possible. His skin against mine? The hiss of fear retreated almost completely into the background.

  How, though?

  How did he affect me so strongly?

  Fire and ash. The only things I believed were left of me. He was proving me wrong. Every word he spoke was a shovel, digging through debris and scratching the surface of something deeper. Something beyond the physical.

  Enemy, the hate whispered through my skull. Rend. Tear. Destroy.

  I pushed off the sink, running my hands over my scalp as indecision went to war. Carlos didn’t feel like the enemy. He wasn’t acting like the enemy. And even in my worst rage, the one I’d been trapped in for the raid of his father’s home, I hadn’t recognized him as an enemy.

  Did he mean what I thought he meant when he talked about fighting the disease? Could he really be an ally?

  More?

  Wait.

  More? Shut up brain, you’re talking nonsense now.

  Or maybe it wasn’t. I was naked in the bathroom of a man I had wanted to destroy less than seventy two hours ago. Logic was flying out the window so fast I wondered if the whole building might be on fire.

  There was a black shirt and matching sweatpants hanging from the towel rack beside me, provided by the man himself. I picked up the shirt, hesitating only a moment before holding it to my nose. The fabric smelled just like him. Rich spices and cinnamon, mixed with something completely unique.

  I glanced at myself in the mirror again as my nipples pebbled, the sensation so much sharper for the silver bars going through them. My eyes swept down, floating over my flat stomach. The curve of my hips. The bald mound at the junction between my thighs and the silver stud decorating the hood of my clit.

  It’d been a long time since I looked at my body and saw its shape as more than a well toned weapon. With his scent in my nose, along with the memory of his lips on mine? I saw a woman. One with an aching, long-denied body Carlos was slowly bringing to life.

  I dressed quickly, tying his huge shirt at my lower back. The sweatpants needed to be rolled up on my legs several times to keep from dragging them across the floor. It felt weirdly intimate and kinda hot, to be wearing his clothes.

  It definitely beat spending another moment in the wet mess of fabric laid out around the garden sized tub.

  I padded barefoot from the bathroom and frowned at the sound of low, pulsing rap music beating in the background. Following the source back to the living room, I found a new version of Carlos sitting on the edge of a purple, chaise lounge.

  He was wearing a pair of sweatpants identical to the ones he had given me, bare feet crossed at the ankles. His chest was bare. Solid enough to take my breath away and with flowing Spanish script going from shoulder to shoulder. I couldn’t make out the words in the low light, but they were begging to be petted and traced. Licked and- Nope. Nope. Nope.

  There was a long neck beer curled in his fingers, half empty, and another sitting atop a coaster on the glass table in front of him. Carlos’s posture was relaxed, although he watched me with the most intense look I had seen on his chiseled face yet.

  This wasn’t the gentleman, the crime lord or the businessman. Instead, he was a mix of all three. Was this the real man behind those masks? If so, I was in more trouble than I thought. So much more.

  Because this was the kind of man I could’ve pictured myself with in different circumstances. Maybe in an alternate reality where I wasn’t damaged and he wasn’t an enigma I couldn’t afford to trust.

  Carlos was obviously intending for me to sit beside him, hence the beer on the coaster and the space he’d left. I ran my tongue along the backs of my teeth, mulling through my options. He was making a chess move, recognizing it didn’t change that he had me firmly in check. I could make this easy, by sitting beside him and cooperating. Or I could make this difficult.

  Either way, I knew the gears grinding behind those intelligent eyes of his would shift accordingly. So why bother overthinking it?

  I crossed towards him, grabbing the beer on the table and sitting down on the far end of the lounge chair. He twisted slightly to face me, well-defined abs flexing, and I used my shirt - well, his shirt - to pop the lid on the glass bottle. A question formed on my lips, and I poked around inside my own head, looking for the panic as my heart skipped a beat.

  My throat went dry and my palms grew damp, but the sensation itself wasn’t choking me. I wanted to poke at it until I understood, but somehow I refrained.

  Speak and enjoy it. Worry about what it means later.

  “No thousand dollar bottles of Scotch?” I asked, taking a quick sip. Feeling the familiar tang wash over my taste buds. Not bad.

  He shook his head, lips tilted in amusement. “Can’t stand the stuff. If I wanted to pour gasoline down my throat, I could do it for a hell of a lot cheaper.”

  Amen, I thought, nodding. Rebel kept a stash in his room, and I had snuck myself a shot once. Only once. It was about as pleasant as making out with a dragon while it breathed fire and clamped your nose between sharp teeth.

  “No classical symphonies or soft jazz?”

  “Do I look like a Bond villain? Should I call start calling you Ms. Bladefinger?” My eyes narrowed. He only looked amused. “That’s what I thought. I’ll take Jay-Z over Mozart any day of the week, and the only thing cigars are good for is putting someone’s eyes out.”

  Obviously, I wasn’t squeamish about violence - what a hypocrisy that would be - but the casual mention did manage to catch me slightly off guard. Unsurprisingly, he was watching me close enough to notice.

  Attentive bastard. Would it have killed him to be one of those easily dismissed men who only knew how to think with their dick?

  His brows rose. “Judging by your lack of reaction, I'm guessing you've seen worse.”

  Seen worse. Done worse. “You forget the kind of man I follow.”

  “Of course. And while we’re speaking of the Sinners, there is one thing I need you to agree to. Separate from the second condition.”

  “I’m listening.” My body tingled in anticipation of the nebulous request he could make at any time. Saying his name had been freeing in a way I never would’ve expected. How would it feel if and when he asked for more?

  “You can’t tell any of your cohorts about this.” My mouth opened but he cut me off with a shake of his head. “All they need to know is that you’re keeping a close eye on things. Which will be truthful, at least in part. But in the meantime, you’ll be helping me purge the Cartel on a scale no has ever seen before.”

  ...What? I barely caught the beer before it slipped out of my suddenly frozen fingers. His earlier words floated back through my brain. Shock and understanding jolted me.

  Fight the disease from the inside.

  This was what he meant?

  His eyes never wavered from mine, and Carlos nodded as if I had spoken out loud. “You wanted to know why, Sylvia? This is why. Destroying the Cartel will be my atonement and penance for the actions of my father. For the lives he took, the people he ruined, the trail of carnage he left in his wake. That should be enough reason to tear it all down. But the true purpose for my cause is much more selfish.”

  Emotion burned deep in his gaze. His voice. The charged, electric air between us.

  “They dared to take from you. Touch you. Hurt you.” Wrath bubbled up, pouring from him like a waterfall and washing away my doubt. If they were still alive, he would kill them with his bare hands. I saw it in his eyes. “They made my goddess suffer.”

  Carlos reached out and pulled me towards him, taking the beer and putting it down. I didn't fight. Not when he gently took my hand and brought it towards his chest. Not wh
en he made my fingers trace the script going across his chest, etched into smooth, warm, bronze skin.

  “Her reckoning comes,” he quoted smoothly. I licked my lips, eyes flicking up to his. “Everything I have built was meant for one thing, to be the ultimate weapon I could lay at your feet and watch you wield.”

  “Why?” I whispered, daring to reach up and feel the scruff around his jaw. His lashes lowered and he leaned into the touch. Heat pooled between my legs at the intimate gesture. “Why do all this for me?”

  Carlos grabbed my free hand, pressing light kisses to each knuckle that left me trembling. “Because from the day you stepped out from behind Creed’s shadow and into the light, you’ve been the only thing I could see.”

  I was struck speechless, my breathing turning ragged. Carlos kept my hand in his. I felt the rough pad of his thumb tracing circles across my skin while my mind spun with so many thoughts I couldn’t organize them. Unease gripped me, and not because I didn’t believe him.

  I did.

  God forgive me but I did.

  I needed to be able to process this when I could focus on more than the comforting feeling of him so close to me.

  “I don’t know what to say,” I finally whispered, starting to fidget.

  He leaned forward, pressing a sweet, calming kiss to my forehead. “Then don’t say anything. I wanted you to know the truth, and now you do. I want you, Sylvia. What you do with that information is up to you.”

  “And being my weapon?”

  “Doesn’t hinge on what happens between us. I’ll do it myself and place their bones at your feet and their souls at your altar.” He flashed his teeth at me, beautifully savage.

  Warlord. The title popped into my head with blinding clarity now that I understood his motivations. Honor. Violence. Intelligence. Carlos fused each aspect together to become a perfect combination of the three.

  “No need,” I said with sudden certainty. “I want in.”

  He grinned. “I was hoping you would. There are a lot of details I need to bring you up to speed on, but for now…” Carlos put my hands back in my lap and made to stand.

  Surprising myself, I grabbed onto his arm, stopping him. “Where are you going?”

  Carlos glanced at my nails biting into his skin and I reluctantly let go. “So demanding. I like it.” My eyes rolled and he chuckled. “Either I go and take another quick, cold shower, or you need to leave.”

  My mood plummeted faster than I thought possible. “You’re kicking me out?” I wanted to steal the words back from his ears the moment they left my mouth.

  His lashes lowered. “Not at all, diosa. But you’re in my house, looking fucking exquisite in my clothes, and telling me that you’re willing to fight and kill at my side.”

  He stood then, and it was impossible not to notice the long, thick outline tenting his sweats. Impossible, I tell you. I could see the entire outline of his cock, and I tensed my thighs together to fight the steady throb making me slick.

  “Now you’re looking at me like that,” Carlos growled, voice a depth charge going off against my clit. My whole body tingled with the impact. “So if you’re planning on staying, I need to handle this while I can still fight the urge that’s demanding I rip every scrap of clothing from your body and bury myself inside your pussy.”

  Oh. My. God.

  My mouth opened but nothing came out. The visual he painted completely dominated the landscape of my mind. I could see it so clearly. My body clenched, trying to squeeze when nothing was there.

  I stood on unsteady legs, facing him. “I think I should go.”

  His nostrils flared, and I wondered if he could smell the arousal coming off me. My brain said no. The look he was giving me said differently. “That might be a good idea. We can go over the rest at the office on more neutral ground.”

  I nodded woodenly, distracted by the prominent length pointing straight at me. Damn it, legs. Get a move on. I discreetly pinched myself and the quick bite of pain gave me the kick in the ass I needed to gather my belongings.

  “Goodnight, Sylvia,” he called to my retreating back.

  My reply was lost, stuck in the tangled cage of my throat as I got farther and farther away from him. I hit the button for the elevator and felt the creeping panic edging closer. The doors opened and I stepped inside before turning towards him.

  Carlos must’ve read the emotion on my face because he took a single step forward before I held up my hand to stop him. “Bye,” I whispered, forcing it past what felt like thousands of razor blades circling my throat.

  Before the doors closed, his blinding smile appeared, radiating satisfaction and pride. My heart thumped wildly in my chest. This time, it had nothing to do with how attractive he was.

  CHAPTER 11 - Sylvia

  “Wakey wakey, sleepyhead.”

  The voice floating into my slowly waking conscious was familiar enough for me to curb my usual instincts to being woken up by anything other than an alarm. Which was a long way of saying I didn’t immediately grab the knife under my pillow and stab the source.

  I was a bit of a one trick pony but I knew how to do my one trick really, really, really well.

  “Come on,” the voice goaded. A finger poked me in the side. I rolled away from whoever’s weight was pushing the mattress down. “Early bird gets the worm.”

  I groaned into the pillow and peeled one eye open, taking in the blurry numbers on the digital clock. Six in the morning. When I’d only gotten back from Carlos’s place around four. The damn bird and the worm were both going to get fileted. Maybe once my mood improved, I would make two tiny headstones for them.

  Another poke in the side supplied the frustration I needed to sit up in a rush, throwing the covers off me. Thankfully, I had gone to sleep in my cozy, white and black flannel pajamas. Sleeping in Carlos’s clothes had been tempting. Too much so. I forced myself to change after the third time my fingers started creeping below the waistband.

  Tanner was sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing a pair of jeans that hung low on his hips. My nose instantly curled at his appearance.

  He looked okay, I guess. For a guy so caught up in whatever piece of technology was in his hands, it was always a surprise to see how built he actually was. It was also slightly horrifying.

  The Sinners were my brothers in everything but blood. Seeing them without clothes on - which, by the way, happened way too fucking often because they could be a shameless bunch of heathens - was the same as seeing a family member.

  Fucking. Gross.

  I covered my eyes with one hand.

  “What?” He chuckled. “You didn’t want tickets to the gun show, Sly?”

  My middle finger came up and I swung it around in a wide circle to make sure he would be able to see it while I was intentionally blinding myself.

  The mattress shifted and I peeked through my fingers to see him standing from my bed. Well, technically, it wasn’t my bed. The small townhome Tone and I were staying in, reasonably close to downtown proper, belonged to Rebel. Though he wasn’t exactly around to make use of the place.

  An uncomfortable pang registered in my chest as I thought about the red head. I hadn’t admitted it to anyone else, but I was probably the person least surprised by his sudden absence and revealed betrayal. Creed and Texas were too close to him.

  They were the founders.

  The original Sinners.

  Forces of nature capable of tipping cities on their sides and laughing as they strode through the rubble.

  Because of those bonds, their judgement was compromised.

  Kane, Saze, and Tanner weren’t far behind in that regard. Hardly their fault though. If Rebel’s mouth was moving, and it moved a lot, he was spewing more charm and charisma than one person should be capable of.

  His sister, Caitlin, was right when she called him a devil. If not thee Devil. It was a simple thing for him to convince someone to sell him their soul. Hell, they would do it with a smile and not realize they were bu
rning until the flames licked at the soles of their feet.

  It was in the rare, quiet moments where I watched him and wondered what went on behind those green eyes. Every now and again, I would catch him staring off into space with a look of such intense longing it made my heart ache for his loss. Because emotion so intense could only come from the absence of something he held dear.

  I’d tried asking about it, once. His eyes had turned to chips of jade. The look he had given me reminded me of a machine deciding whether or not an obstacle had risen in its path.

  I never asked again.

  Maybe I should have.

  “What’s going through that super messy bedhead you’re rocking?” Tanner asked, standing at the edge of the bed with his arms crossed. He still didn’t have a damn shirt on.

  I scowled and threw a pillow at him, then pointed at the door.

  He raised his hands. “Alright, alright. I’m going downstairs. Meet me in the kitchen.”

  He left the room and I flopped dramatically back onto the bed, not ready to get up. I was curious why he was here in the first place. Briefly, I wondered if something had happened I didn’t know about, but he would’ve said if there was anything urgent. Tanner didn’t have the best people skills, but he wasn’t an idiot.

  I forced myself up and into the bathroom, idly straightening crumpled fabric. A shower sounded good, but I needed coffee before taking on that particular endeavor, and I had several hours before I needed to be presentable. While I brushed my teeth, I wondered what I was actually supposed to do today.

  Going through bookwork was mind-numbing, and hardly necessary after last night. I was positive Carlos wasn’t my enemy. Whatever else he could be remained up for debate.

  He wanted me. That much was clear. Very clear. God, the size of his-

  I splashed water on my face to cool myself down before those particular thoughts ran out of control.

  My body was sending every signal it could about wanting him right back. Except I had no idea how to proceed from here. Light kisses and petting seemed okay so far, only I genuinely didn’t know how I would react when he eventually pushed for more.