Sinful Sacrament

by Morgan James

  Sinful Sacrament

  Sinful Duet, Volume 2

  Morgan James

  Published by Morgan James, 2021.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  SINFUL SACRAMENT

  First edition. July 6, 2021.

  Copyright © 2021 Morgan James.

  ISBN: 978-1393319870

  Written by Morgan James.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Epilogue

  Pretty Little Lies

  Also by Morgan James

  About the Author

  Prologue

  Villainy wears many masks; none so dangerous as the mask of virtue.

  ~Washington Irving

  Fox

  Anger. Relief. Desire. They all mingled in my chest, the emotions fluctuating so rapidly I could hardly keep up.

  Forty-seven days had passed since I’d last seen her, and it seemed as if everything had changed. At the same time, everything remained exactly the same. From my concealed spot where I’d been watching her for the past four days, I studied Eva as she moved behind the bar.

  I clamped down on the urge to stalk inside and drag her out, force her to come with me. Instead, I closed my eyes briefly and drew in a deep breath, then focused once more on her beautiful features. Even though she was too far away to see clearly, I vividly remembered the slope of her jaw, the satiny softness of her skin beneath my fingertips. The slight dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks, and that stubborn little chin. Those pretty green eyes that flashed with fire when she defied me.

  Most of all, I remembered the way she made me feel. Whole. Content. Like my entire existence revolved around her. Just seeing her again, knowing that she was safe and hale, eased the pressure on my chest. Immediately on the heels of the intense relief came the anger. She’d run from me without a single word. I wanted to know why—and very soon, I was going to find out.

  My queen had fled, putting miles between us like the spaces on a board. She’d made her move—but now it was my turn.

  A slow smile curved my mouth. “Checkmate, angel.”

  Chapter One

  Eva

  “Last call.”

  I held back a yawn as I cleared the sticky, empty glasses from the table, then wiped it down before heading back to the bar. I dunked the glassware into the tub of sudsy water and threw a look down the bar to the handful of men still seated on the stools as I scrubbed the glasses and set them aside to drain.

  From his spot in front of the tap, Bryce glanced over his shoulder at me. “Can you get the trash together?”

  “Sure. If you want, you can finish up and I’ll take it out.”

  One honey-colored brow lifted. “You sure?”

  I nodded, deeply appreciative of his concern for me. He knew how much I hated being alone outside in the dark. But I was a thousand miles from home—and him. It was time to move on. I forced a smile. “I’ll be fine.”

  “All right.”

  After the whole ordeal with Fox a month and a half ago I had disappeared from Chicago with literally only the clothes on my back, hopped into the cab of the semi, and hitchhiked to Omaha. Bryce had welcomed me in with open arms and given me solace working in the bar and staying in his friend’s duplex. He watched over me like a big brother and had never made a single untoward comment. There would never be anything romantic between us, and if it bothered him at all, he never said a word. My heart still felt bruised, and my mind was even worse. I stayed mostly behind the bar, away from the patrons, where I could avoid the flirtatious remarks occasionally flung my direction. If anyone ever came on too strong, Bryce stepped in, always my savior. He had deemed himself my protector, and I appreciated it immensely. I owed him so much for helping me to get back on my feet.

  For the first several weeks after I’d first arrived, alone in my small, dark duplex where no one could see, I cried myself to sleep each night. Even though Fox had betrayed me, even after everything, I still missed him. What we'd shared had felt real. Despite the fact that he had initially taken me captive, in the end it had seemed like a real relationship, a connection born of mutual attraction and desire. There’d been plenty of those—but no trust to speak of. Against all odds I’d gambled and put my faith in him—and lost. I still felt the sting of hurt down into the marrow of my bones.

  I wasn't sure I could ever get over the fact that he lied to me. He had every opportunity to tell me he knew who my parents were, but he’d chosen to keep that from me. I wasn't sure whose betrayal hurt worse—Fox’s or my father’s.

  My father, who I assumed would have been beside himself with grief and worry, had apparently known where I was all along. He’d willingly handed me over to Fox and cut all ties with his only remaining daughter. Part of me wanted to ask him why he’d done it; the other part of me wanted to cut him as ruthlessly from my life as he’d done to me.

  I felt alone and adrift in the world with no one to turn to. I missed Fox, missed the way he made me feel. I had even debated several times reaching out to him or going back, but I could never quite bring myself to do it. Outwardly, I was moving on. Inside, I still felt stuck in the past. Fox had attempted no communication, and I wasn’t sure if that dismayed me or not. He had connections all over the US; I was fairly certain that he would have found me and dragged me back to Chicago if he’d wanted to. I could only surmise that he’d decided he had better things to do than track down the errant woman who’d run from him. I’d escaped my captor; it was exactly what I’d wanted. But then why did I feel so empty?

  I finished drying the glasses, then wiped my hands on my apron before untying it and setting it aside to toss in the laundry later. Making my way through the bar and kitchen areas, I collected the bags of trash, then glanced at the clock. Bryce had yelled for last call fifteen minutes ago, and now only two men lingered at the bar. As I twisted up the bags, they downed their drinks then pushed the empty glasses toward Bryce, who collected them and dumped them into the soapy water.

  An older man who went by the name Tyrone lifted a hand my way. “Have yourself a good night.”

  My mouth automatically formed a smile, though I didn't feel a flicker of happiness. “See you tomorrow.”

  With a nod, he turned and loped out the door. He was a perpetual fixture in Bryce’s bar, and he sat in the same seat every day from seven o'clock in the
evening until we closed at two in the morning. I felt bad for him, having learned a few weeks ago that, after forty-two years of marriage, he’d lost his wife to pneumonia two winters ago. He had no one to go home to, no one to take care of him. I often slid him extra food, and I comped it by covering the cost of the meal with my own tips. I had a feeling Bryce knew, because occasionally my paycheck would be a little higher to compensate for the difference.

  Once I had gathered all the trash bags together, I pushed out the back door into the alley. A security light to my left illuminated the dumpster, and I used a brick to prop the door open before carrying the bags over and tossing them in, one by one. The lid shut with a bang, and I dusted my hands on my jeans before drawing in a deep breath of the muggy early summer air.

  A soft scuffle behind me had the hairs on the back of my neck lifting, and I whirled around, immediately on edge. My eyes scanned the dark alley but found nothing. I replayed the sound in my mind over and over, trying to place exactly what it sounded like, where it’d come from. It had sounded almost like a... footstep. I slowly began to edge my way toward the door, scanning in all directions. Suddenly, a clatter rose from a steel trashcan of the travel agency next door, and a scream caught in my throat. I slapped one hand over my heart as a mangy black cat hopped down and strode forward, a scrap of food clenched between its teeth.

  Breathing heavily, I collapsed against the jagged brick wall and blinked back the tears that had sprung to my eyes. God, I needed to get a grip. Because on the heels of the initial fear I’d felt, hope had welled up. Hope that he’d found me. Hope that he’d cared enough to come for me. But he didn’t. Forty-seven days had passed since I’d walked away from him. Forty-seven days without a single word, without any indication that he wanted me back. He wasn’t coming.

  Shaking off my wayward thoughts, I strode back into the bar then closed up behind me, making sure that the door was securely locked. By the time I made it back to the bar, Bryce had already washed the remaining dishes and set them aside to dry. He threw a look my way. “Ready to head out?”

  “Yep.” I grabbed my purse from under the bar. “Trash is taken care of.”

  “Awesome, thanks.” Bryce reached over and flipped a switch that turned off the neon lights in the windows displaying the names of various brands of beer, then grabbed up the deposit envelope to drop off at the bank on his way in tomorrow.

  “Come on.” He dug his keys from his pocket as he rounded the bar. “I'll drive you home.”

  It was a nightly routine for us, and though I'd told him a hundred times he didn't have to do it, Bryce insisted on making sure I got home safely every night. I didn't bother to argue with him, just fell into step as we locked up and headed to his car. The duplex I currently rented was only a couple of blocks away, and five minutes later, I climbed out of Bryce’s car, gave him a little wave, then headed into the house.

  Once I was inside, I watched through the window as he pulled away from the curb and headed home to get some sleep before he had to be back at the bar by noon tomorrow. As soon as his taillights disappeared down the street, I prepared for the night ahead. A small table stood against the wall just inside the entryway, and I pulled it in front of the door, effectively blocking the entrance. A vase took up residence in the middle of the table, and I slid it forward, balancing it precariously close to the edge. The table itself wouldn’t stop someone from getting in, but if the door was opened, it would hit the table and send the vase crashing to the floor. Since there was no security system, the noise would at least give me some warning if someone decided to break in.

  As soon as everything was in place, I made my way to the bedroom and kicked off my shoes. My hand automatically went to the pocket of my jeans, where I fingered the small silver cufflink within. I’d carried it with me every single day, like a talisman of sorts. My heart ached as I set it on the nightstand next to the bed. Even if Fox wasn’t physically here with me, I still had a piece of him.

  I shook off my melancholy and strode to the bathroom, stripping my clothes off as I went. My shirt reeked of beer, and the perpetual scent of greasy fried food clung to my hair. I flicked the handle of the shower faucet over to its hottest setting and waited for a moment as the old pipes warmed up. Soon, steam rose into the air and I gratefully climbed beneath the spray.

  Tipping my head back, I allowed the hot water to wash over me, and I reveled in the feeling. I scrubbed at my skin, washing away the grime of the day and leaving the fresh scent of eucalyptus in its place. I poured shampoo into my palm, then lathered and rinsed my hair. A subtle shift in the air had goosebumps sprouting along the backs of my arms, and I froze. The apprehension I’d felt in the alley came back full force, sweeping over me like a tidal wave and rooting my feet to the floor of the tub. Slowly turning my head, I glanced through the translucent clear curtain. The room beyond was hazy, but I saw nothing out of the ordinary. I leaned forward slightly and peered around the edge of the shower curtain, my eyes scanning every inch of the tiny room. The door stood open exactly as I’d left it, but I heard no movement from the hallway.

  I let out the breath I’d been holding and tried to steady my nerves. What was wrong with me? Tonight especially I’d felt particularly on edge, but I couldn’t pinpoint the reason why. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened. No one had come on to me, no one had even looked at me sideways. So I couldn’t quite tell why I felt like there were eyes on me at all times. Maybe it was a manifestation of my own feelings presenting themselves.

  Part of me was still conflicted about the situation with Fox, but I knew I’d done the right thing. Had I never spoken with Daddy, Fox probably would never have told me the truth. I’d still be there, playing house with a man who’d withheld the truth—that he’d practically stolen me from my father.

  That knowledge had plagued me every day for nearly the past seven weeks. Part of me wanted to demand the whole truth. But the other, far more rational part of me told me it was better this way. My father and Fox were men cut from the same cloth. They were both manipulators who did what was best for them; to hell with whoever or whatever got in their way. The two men I’d cared for most had both betrayed me in some fashion—and I would never let it happen again.

  Chapter Two

  Fox

  The night was silent and still, not a stirring of life present at this predawn hour. I slid up the window sash, dropped my bag inside, then pulled myself over the sill and into the room before closing it up again. A smile curved my mouth at the sight of the booby trap she’d placed by the front door. Good thing I’d left the window unlocked when I came into her place earlier.

  I paused, ears cocked as I listened intently. The sound of water running in the bathroom met my ears, and I smiled. Right on time. I’d studied every single move she made for the past four days. Each morning she rose at 10:30 on the dot. At noon, I followed far behind as she made her way to the bar on foot. She returned around half past two in the morning, always dropped off by the man who owned the bar. Jealousy curdled my stomach at the thought of him and the fact that he’d been here with her for the past seven weeks. I couldn’t help but wonder if he meant anything to her.

  Pushing thoughts of him away, I glanced at the front door and shook my head. Each time she was in for the night, she would pull the small table in front of the door, a vase balanced on the edge. Once she was satisfied it was in place to alert her of any intruders, she showered, checked her windows and doors, then went to bed so she could wake up and do it all over again. She would be pissed when she found out I’d been here all along, watching her, waiting. It filled me with a twisted sense of satisfaction.

  On silent feet, I made my way through the living room and down the short hallway to the bathroom. Just being this close to her was exhilarating, and I lightly rubbed a hand over my chest to soothe the tightness that had taken up residence at the sight of her. She stood under the spray of the water, head tipped back as she rinsed the soap from the long blonde strands. The outline of
her body through the translucent clear shower curtain was hazy, but I recalled every tantalizing inch of flesh. Steam wrapped around her body then curled toward the ceiling, practically inviting me to step into the tub with her.

  Part of me wanted to throw back the curtain and sweep her into my arms before she had the chance to evade me again. I could only imagine how that would play out; my little hellcat would probably drown us both in her attempt to fight back. A smile curved my mouth. It was tempting, but I needed to be on her good side. Or, at least, not completely on her bad side.

  I drew in a deep breath and pushed from the doorjamb, forcing myself to bide my time as I meandered into her bedroom. I'd been inside earlier, but I hadn't paid much attention to the room itself; now I took in every detail—or lack thereof. There were no pictures, no personal effects, hardly any clothes to fill the closet or drawers of the tall dresser in the corner. For a woman who'd come from wealth, it was almost staggering how little she now owned. I wanted to give her the world if only she would give me the opportunity. She'd never asked for a single thing—except the truth. I owed her that and more, and I would do everything in my power to make it up to her. But first, I had to find a way to get her to listen to me.

  Taking a seat on the edge of the mattress, I tried to steady my nerves. My gaze drifted to the nightstand, and my heart slammed against my ribcage when a silvery reflection on the wooden surface caught my eye. I reached out and picked up the cufflink I'd lost the night of the engagement party. It glinted in the faint glow of light spilling in from the hallway as I turned it over in my hands, remembering the last night she and I had spent together. I couldn't begin to imagine why she kept it, but I chose to see it as a good sign.

  The water in the bathroom shut off, and I quietly crossed the room to conceal myself behind the open door. I’d be damned if I would give her the chance to run. Eva entered the bedroom less than a minute later, and I heard the flick of the switch a split second before the bright glow of the overhead light illuminated the room. She moved forward, her back to me, her gorgeous curves now covered by the threadbare white towel wrapped around her. As soon as she was fully inside, I closed the door.