Love you, she said with a twitch of her lips.
Love you too, I told her, brushing a finger down her smooth cheek.
“Awwwwww.”
“Fucking kill me now,” Creed grumbled, followed by a low grunt.
“That can be arranged,” said Sylvia. “Someone's missing.”
“There was-”
“If you say there was nothing you could do, we're going to have problems.”
“Tanner broke the rules, Sly. Mine and theirs. And after what else he admitted to…” The moments away from murder energy was back. “Forget it. He knew what he was doing and he did it anyway. That he did it for you is the only reason I spared his life.”
Sylvia bristled and I pressed my lips against the side of her head. She’d already brought me up to speed on what it would mean if the Sinner I still wanted to punch in the face wasn’t here. “I'll talk to Rockwell,” I said softly. “See what he can do. Tanner saved my life too.” Her shoulders relaxed and she nodded.
Creed’s eyes narrowed. “He also dug up a few new traces of Rebel while he was-”
Lizzy clapped her hands together, interrupting him. Girl had balls of steel, that was for sure. His glare tried to melt the side of her face off and she didn’t seem to mind.
“Yep,” she chirped happily. “That's enough of the super serious discussions. It's Christmas y'all, and Rain and Kayla have the little one until tomorrow. Which means I plan on making the very best of the next sixteen plus hours and nothing is getting in the way of that. Clear?” She paused. “Awesome. Great talk.”
“After. Could I talk to you?” said Sylvia. “Alone?”
“Of course,” she said instantly. “I'll find you. Now, Creed.” Lizzy bounced on her toes, a bundle of excitement. “Do the thing for us.”
“It's not a party trick, Elizabeth.”
“Oh just do it.” She pouted. She actually pouted at the jet black-haired beast who probably gnawed on his enemies bones when no one was looking. “Like, pretty please? And none of that full name business. Do it, or I'm going to send you kitten videos every hour on the hour until I decide you’ve had enough.”
“She'll do it, babe” Caitlin promised, poking him in the side. “She still sends me rainbow emojis throughout the day after the chocolate shake incident.”
“No way.” Sylvia shuffled closer to me, squeezing me tight. “Still?”
“Still,” the redhead answered, looking playfully grave.
“Fucking hell,” said Creed. “Fine.”
I took a mental snapshot of this moment so I could share it with Isaac and Manny in perfect detail. The most dangerous man we had ever crossed paths with, bullied into action by two of the most unsuspecting women I had ever met. This was hall of fame worthy.
Creed raised a closed fist and the music cut out. Was there someone dedicated to watching for that specific cue?
“Sinners!” His voice was a rallying cry, and all who heard it stopped what they were doing to listen. “Merry. Fucking. Christmas!”
The screams unleashed in response could've drowned out an explosion. Then the music came back, twice as loud. And I pulled my woman towards me while the party began in earnest.
***
I was sitting on the ground close by while Sylvia and Lizzy finished up their conversation and exchanged a long, rocking hug by the dying embers of the former bonfire.
I had a good guess about what they'd been discussing. My guess turned into fact when Lizzy pulled away, tipping her head back and fanning her face. Sylvia waved, walking away, and Texas dropped the bag of sand he was using to finish putting out the fire to embrace his woman when she ventured into his arms.
The four of us were the last ones here. Without a source of heat, the cold was quickly settling in. My fingers and toes were numb, and I was fighting off a need to shiver. I ignored the discomfort, because my queen was crouching down in front of me, eyes filled with a lingering sadness.
Moving in silence, she rearranged me until she could crawl onto my lap and rest her head against my shoulder. I held her close to me, listening to the sound of her breathing while the minutes ticked by. Watching the clouds shift above us while she dealt with a loss that could never be replaced.
“You're not going to ask what we talked about?”
I decided that was a good enough invitation. “What did you talk about?”
She sighed, and the sound surrounded us. “Me being a bad friend.”
“You're not.”
“I know you would defend me from everything, but even you can't make the truth suddenly become a lie.” We lifted our hands in sync as Texas picked Lizzy up and scaled the hill across from us. “Their daughter's name is Abigail.”
I waited patiently while she took a deep breath.
“Creed had to order me to go back up to the room and meet her. Even then, despite being a constant at Lizzy’s side up until she was due, I ran the moment I could.” Her fists were trembling they were clenched so tightly. “I chose to jump head first into shark infested waters rather than spend one more second watching her glow with the joy of something I would never have.”
I pried her hands apart, forcing them back in her lap. Then I rested my chin on her head. “That doesn't make you a bad friend. What it makes you, is human.”
“And ignoring her messages? Making her worry?”
“Regrettable, but you apologized for it.”
“You sound sure of that.”
“I know you, diosa.”
God, how had I lived without feeling the love I feel for this woman every second of every day?
“And because I know you, I know your actions were meant to protect yourself, not cause harm to others.”
She shivered against me. Whether it was from cold or something else, I couldn't be certain. “How do you do that?” she asked softly. “How do you make this feel bearable with a few words?”
“Because I'm not doing it alone.” I leaned to the side so I could look in her eyes. The same ones I planned on looking into for the rest of my life. “This is us, together. My strength is yours whenever you need it and for however long. Any time you think you have to go through something alone, I'll be there to remind you that you don't. One way or another.”
Sylvia carefully got to her feet and I joined her, standing so close our boots were touching. “That sounded an awful lot like a promise, Carlos.”
“Because it was.” Let God strike me dead if anything I'd told her had been a lie.
I stared up at the heavens, daring lightning to come my way. Instead, a shape I knew well crashed against me, almost sending both of us tumbling to the ground once more.
“Good,” she said with a wide grin, piercings gleaming in the moonlight beaming down on us. “I'll make you one in return.”
My woman.
My queen.
My goddess.
My smile came easily. For her, it always would. “I'm all ears.”
“The really important question you halfway asked earlier?” My heart forgot how to beat, then started back twice as fast when she spoke. “Next time...I'll say yes.”
THE END
Author’s Note
If you’ve made it this far, thank you so much for reading Saved by a Sinner. This book is my longest work to date, and what a roller coaster ride it was. I planned on releasing it back in July of 2018, and believe it or not, the whole thing was finished in time for that to happen. At least I thought it was.
You might’ve noticed that the first two books in this series were insta-love. When I finished this story the first go-round, at about 60,000 words, that’s what I had on my hands once again. It was longer than the other two by a fair margin, but there was something missing and for the longest time, I couldn't put my finger on what. I kept coming back to it and coming back to it over the next few months, but that feeling of trying to smash a circle through a triangle shaped hole never went away.
Life got in the way, as it tends to do, and after taking a long break
from even opening up the document, it hit me. The missing element. The elusive chemical X.
Nothing felt earned.
Carlos had stepped on the scene, waved his magic wand - no pun intended - and all of Sylvia’s worries had just… poof. Disappeared. Once I realized my own error, her dissatisfaction became my own. The entire thing felt cheap. I knew her past inside and out, and making everything that went along with it go away so easily was a simple solution, but also a shallow one.
So I went back to the drawing board. Entire chapters got chopped up. Some were removed completely. It was not fun in the least. By then, there was no chance of the book being released the same year I had originally hoped for. But without the rush of a self-imposed deadline, a different path emerged. And I took it.
What had once been considered finished at 60,000 words climbed slowly but surely to 120,000 instead. This is an appropriate time to be surprised, because I know I was. I had no intention of writing something that long. I didn’t know I was capable of it. But there it was, finished and finally providing that sense of completion that had been missing for over a year.
Hopefully, you, the reader - readers? (also hopefully) - have enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed bringing it to life and putting the words on the page. If you have a few moments to leave a review, and I haven’t run you off by prattling on, it would be greatly appreciated. Keep turning the page for chapter one of Tempted by a Sinner, featuring Tone and Naomi, coming in 2020.
Hopefully.
Chapter 1 - Naomi
“Are you sure you’ve got everything you need?” my brother asked for what had to be the tenth time in the last half hour. I had started ignoring him after the sixth. No one could ever say Lawson Ives wasn’t persistent as an eye twitch you couldn’t quite get rid of. One that gave you a brief respite, just long enough to catch your breath and celebrate the victory before it came back again with a vengeance.
And...3...2...1...
“Don’t be a brat,” he said, voice dropping to a low, irritated rumble I knew so well. So, so well. I’d heard that I’m-annoyed-with-you tone at least once a week for the last twenty-five years of my life, and that was a stingy figure.
I'd heard it when I was nine and he was twelve, after throwing a fit of epic proportions in order to stay on the beach we were visiting for summer vacation. Who in their right mind wouldn't want to spend as long as they could smelling ocean salt and feeling coarse sand between their toes? Lawson, that was who. And because he hadn't applied enough sunscreen, he blamed me for the burn on his nose and shoulders dad had enjoyed poking at for the rest of the week.
I'd heard it at fourteen, when my boobs finally started showing themselves and his dumb, stinky friends had acted all weird whenever they came over the house. What was I supposed to do? Wrap myself in parkas year round because they suddenly saw me as more than his baby sister? If he hadn't wanted to end up punching Grady in the face, he shouldn't have become buddies with such a handsy jerk.
I'd heard it at nineteen, when he caught me turned upside down over a keg at a house party. To be fair, that was one of the instances where I deserved being the focus of his aggravation. I was acting like an ungrateful brat, drinking in excess when I had no business drinking at all, given my condition. And then practically rubbing his face in it.
Our fairly predictable saga continued day after day. Year after year. The older we got, the worse it became. He hovered, overprotective and way too demanding. I would endure, until the need to break out of my cage grew too great. Then I would rebel, some mixture of grief and impatience and sick of this shit pushing me to make bad decisions in the name of freedom.
At least until twenty came along, and I was forced to stare in the face of what consequences could come from my actions.
“Go right on ahead and keep pretending you don't hear me,” he dared. “You won't be going anywhere.”
I stopped pretending to pack my third suitcase - or was this the fourth? - and turned to face him. Lawson was doing what was probably his second favorite thing behind winning a case: hovering.
He stood in the doorway of my room in our parents’ house, arms folded over his blue-polo encased chest, a familiar pinch between his dark brows. It was familiar because it seemed to be there anytime he looked at me these days. No matter what other expression was on his face, when I walked into a room his lips thinned to a mulish line, his hazel eyes - so like my own - narrowed the tiniest fraction, and his forehead folded in on itself, settling into lines that no longer vanished when his features managed to relax.
I tossed my hands in the air, letting them fall against my thighs with a quiet slap. “I have everything,” I said, not hiding my own irritation. “There. You happy? Go find somewhere else to linger, dude. It's getting on my nerves.”
Lawson crossed his legs at the ankles, khaki pants moving against each other with a soft sigh of fabric that I could only hear because the rest of the house was so quiet. If I listened closely, I could barely make out the distant sounds of the TV downstairs. Since I knew how much Dad hated subtitles, I was sure he'd turned it down in order to eavesdrop on us.
That was fine. Whatever. It wasn't stifling in the least to be around two people who were incapable of hearing me sneeze without wanting to rush me to a hospital and hook me up to machines. Again.
Nope. I wasn't salty about it. Not me. It wasn't the entire reason I was in a hurry to get out of Raleigh, North Carolina as fast as my feet, and car, could take me.
Nah. I loved being smothered. Totally.
“License?” he asked, moving further into the room.
Don't be bitchy. Cooperate and get out. You're so close.
I chewed on the inside of my cheek, fighting the dramatic eye roll I wanted to grace him with. “Purse,” I said instead, pointing at the green clutch on the bed beside my other luggage. I smiled at the sight of it. How long had it been since I was able to leave the house only carrying something small enough for a few necessities? I knew all the bottles and supplies and monitors I carried were stashed inside the duffel bag instead, but the illusion was nice enough for me to hold onto the lie.
In said illusion, I had my shit together. I was capable instead of frail. Normal instead of different. Healthy instead of...not.
“Prescriptions?” he continued, oblivious to how his incessant questions were a pick to the thin shelf of ice my carefully crafted lie rested on top of.
“Topped off,” I said, grabbing another jacket from my nearly empty closet and tossing it on the heap of clothes I hadn't sealed yet. I probably didn't need it. By January, winters in my hometown were bearable, and I was only going a few hours away. I could come back for whatever I needed in a single day. Although I wasn't planning on coming back for a long, long while. “And before you ask, I've already had all the information transferred to the local pharmacy. They'll have everything I need before I need it.”
Lawson rolled his lips from side to side. He was stalling. I loved it and hated it.
In a hidden corner of my mind, I could admit I was going to miss him. Badly. I hadn't even stepped outside, and yet the thought of not being able to wake up and walk right down the hall to see his stupid face made my throat close up. But I had to go.
I had to. My reasons were mostly selfish, but some of them weren't.
I had to leave, or he never would. He would stay in this house he hated, around a man he no longer knew how to have conversations with, all in the name of watching out for a sister who was breaking beneath the weight of his concern.
“Passport?”
I snorted and a small smile broke through his you'll-be-the-death-of-me stare. “I'm not going out of the county, Law. You know exactly where I'll be.” I turned away from him and zipped my last bag, strengthening my resolve while I could. “I wouldn't have even known about that town if not for you.”
“Don't remind me,” he groaned. “I never would've brought it up if I'd thought there would be a chance in hell you would open your business there.”
The last word was venom dripping from his mouth. Which was pretty funny, considering the same clients who kept him filthy rich lived there.
I took one last look around the room that had been mine since childhood. The antique white walls had been stripped of posters and picture frames, leaving the holes from tacks and nails alike plainly visible. Most of them were coming with me, an effort to make a home of my new home. Only one painting was staying, the one hanging directly over my bed. The one I saw each time I opened my eyes in the morning and heard her voice whispered in my ear.
It was no great masterpiece. She hadn't painted for fame or fortune. She'd done it because she enjoyed it. I could close my eyes and see the green landscape, the orange sky and gray clouds, the yellow sun lifting up into view.
The sun will always rise on a new day.
When my focus returned to my brother, he was resigned. He pinned me with a lingering look, eyes tracing across my features. Looking for a chance I could be talked out of this, maybe? His lips thinned some more and he nodded. “I'll start taking your bags out.” He brushed by me and grabbed two suitcases easily, throwing one over his shoulder before picking up my duffel bag. “Is the car unlocked?”
“Yeah,” I answered softly. He briefly paused at the threshold, back tight, posture rigid. Then he disappeared out into the hall and down the stairs, one creaking footstep at a time. I grabbed my last piece of luggage and took a deep breath before following him down.
This is it, I steeled myself, ignoring the flutter in my stomach that only worsened with each step.
It didn't take as long as I might've hoped to reach the living room. I fidgeted nervously, tucking stray, black curls back into the bun they'd slipped from. Another face I knew well - so, so well - turned from facing the television screen. Gray-blue eyes focused on me, a slight grin on thin lips.
Still pretending.
The grin was a lie so well worn it barely even upset me anymore. That's what happened after you swallowed a false truth for five years straight. But this was routine for us.
Saved by a Sinner Page 37
