“I’ll always find my way to you.”
She was the only kind of intoxication I wanted anymore. I planned to stay hooked on her for all time.
She was the risk. She was the reward.
The next morning, we went kayaking again. In a tandem boat. We paddled around the lake, enjoying the clear blue sky of an early morning on the outskirts of Vegas.
When we were done, she thanked me again for taking her, then ran a hand over my hip, tracing the outline of my phoenix tattoo. “For new beginnings,” she said. “And I had an idea about new beginnings. I was going to ask if you’d be interested in starting a climbing or kayaking group for the boys at the center. They never get to go, and I bet some would like to.”
“I would love to,” I said, and that felt fitting too as our lives intertwined even more.
77
Kenny
Boom.
I was on fucking fire.
I slammed my ride into reverse and gunned the gas. I cranked up the tunes, blasting my victory music. I smacked my palm against my guy’s as we took off from the scene of the crime. We’d pulled off another one. And it energized me, lit me up from head to toe.
Like fireworks.
This time it was robbery, and we had fat wads of cash to show what we’d pulled off.
I dropped off my partner in crime, slammed a palm against the dashboard, and then did my favorite thing in the world—snorted a line.
Right off the dashboard as the music blared, thrumming through my body. And now I was amped up.
As I headed toward the Strip, I dialed TJ’s number, giving him the report on what we’d pulled off tonight. A simple robbery, but nothing was simple about the dough. TJ knew who to target. He knew who brought in bank, and when he sent me on a job, they were big ones. I’d earned it, and after a few weeks of lying low, getting out of town, I was back and better than ever.
“It is good to be back in town. Good to be on the motherfucking job again,” I said. “You’re the man. The best goddamn getaway driver there is,” he said.
I thumped my chest. “You know it. For eighteen years. No one is better. No one in the whole damn world.”
He laughed. “Eighteen spotless years, cuz. Now don't fuck it up.”
I scoffed. “How would I fuck it up? We’re invincible.”
That’s exactly what I was, and tonight was my kind of night. What better time to hit the tables? I headed to the Wynn, tossed my keys to the valet, and strutted inside, knowing I would be taking the house tonight. Bet it all on me. I was gold. I had the Midas touch. I’d pulled off so many jobs as the getaway driver.
Ever since my first one eighteen years ago.
And I’ve gotten away with that. TJ and me—we were motherfucking scot-free.
No one could touch us.
Inside the casino, I scanned the tables, jazzed up.
I hadn’t been at this hotel in a couple of years. I hadn’t been in town in a few months. We usually did jobs out of town, and this was my first day back. Perfect night to celebrate with some blackjack. I peeled off some of the dough that was mine, exchanged it for chips, and parked myself on a stool.
“I’m here to clean up,” I declared.
The dealer barely cracked a smile.
That was cool. I didn’t need him on my side. I didn’t need anyone. I was Kenny Nelson, the invincible Royal Sinner.
The king of scot-free living.
Oh yeah.
This was all I needed.
I played a few hands, winning big.
I did a dance in my chair, holding up my drink. “Oh yeah, bring it on. I’m gonna beat the house tonight.”
The next round, I had a perfect winning combination, when I felt a hand on my shoulder.
78
John
When Mindy’s call came, I was ready. Because I’d been ready. We’d been poised for this opportunity since the case reopened. Since we’d gotten the first tip from Jerry Stefano’s one-time girlfriend. It was all a matter of amassing the evidence, finding the accomplices, and then making the arrests.
Kenny and TJ had been out of town, but we’d heard they were back.
And now, holy hell, he was here. Fortunately, I was as close as anyone else because I was in the Wynn, where Sophie had corralled me into a shopping trip, a tux fitting for her pending nuptials. I glanced in the mirror while checking out my reflection, when my phone rang.
“Kenny Nelson is here. Playing blackjack,” Mindy said, then added that her security cameras had spotted him thanks to facial recognition.
God bless technology.
“I’ll be right there.”
I hung up, and Sophie’s eyes widened. “I don't know what it is, but whatever it is, I can tell you need to go right now.”
And I did.
I took off, heading in the direction of the blackjack table still in my tux, knowing that my sister would sort out the tux issue with the store. I weaved through the casino, focused, purposeful.
Heading straight to the table Mindy mentioned. My partner would be here soon for backup, but as Kenny came into my line of sight, an astonishing sense of calm pervaded me. Everything in me was patient, focused. That was how it was in these moments. I never panicked, I never freaked out. It was as if my body was designed to go calm, to go steady at times like this.
When I saw him at the table, my jaw clenched briefly as I thought of all he had done.
All he had hurt.
All he had killed, in his own way.
And here he was, showboating over winning in blackjack.
Somehow that felt like an affront to everything I loved about this city. But there’s a saying about winning.
I was five feet behind him, four, three, two, one.
Calm. I was solid and calm and so damn pleased when I dropped my hand on his shoulder.
Kenny turned around, eyes bugged out.
“Win some, lose some. Kenny Nelson, you’re under arrest.”
Epilogue
Colin
Hot. Sweaty. Exhausted. Aching.
And elated.
Add in thrilled, as the finish line came into view one hot Saturday afternoon at the end of August and I saw where Elle waved and cheered me on from the sidelines of the Badass Triathlon. I was overjoyed as I put one foot in front of the other, ceaselessly running until I nearly collapsed in her arms.
Nearly. But didn’t.
I finished this one the way I wanted to, and even though every muscle screamed and my throat cried out for water, I was flying high. So high, I lifted her up in my arms. She wrapped her legs around my waist and kissed me.
“You did it!”
“I did it.”
There was no medal. There was no prize. There was no ranking. There was only this—the satisfaction of a job well done and the love of a good woman.
That was everything, and I wanted to share it with my family the next day. The crew joined me for a celebratory dinner at my house—Brent and Shannon, Ryan and Sophie, Elle and Alex, Michael and our grandparents, as well as Marcus, Rex, and Tyler. Those boys seemed to travel in a pack, and I was glad my younger brother had such good friends—friends who were also good guys.
Marcus had more than that. He had his new family too, and he’d been spending more time here at my house, crashing from time to time at night when he had class the next morning, since his school was nearby and had started a week ago. But he hadn’t seemed liked himself lately. Not since we’d visited our mom in Hawthorne a couple of weeks ago. He’d seemed remote, nervous even, spending more time clutching his phone as if he was waiting for a dreaded call to arrive.
I had asked a few times about his mood, and if he wanted to talk. Marcus always shook his head and said no. I tried again that evening after everyone left and the two of us were straightening up in the kitchen.
“What’s going on? College harder than you thought?”
“No. It’s fine,” Marcus said as he loaded a plate in the dishwasher.
“Is it work?”
>
His phone rang. With the speed of a cheetah, Marcus whipped his cell from his back pocket. He glanced at the screen and answered immediately. I didn’t even see the name or the number.
“Hey.”
A pause. I tried to tune in to the conversation, though I knew I shouldn’t. Still, I was damn curious, especially since the caller sounded a hell of a lot like Detective John Winston.
“Holy shit. That’s amazing,” Marcus said, and the sullenness vanished. It was replaced by something that looked and sounded like jubilation. Marcus ran a hand through his hair and exhaled like he’d been holding a thousand breaths. “Tonight? You arrested him tonight?”
I straightened, set down the dishtowel, and mouthed, Who? Anticipation barreled through me as I zeroed in on Marcus.
“Yes. I can talk. I’m at Colin’s house.” Marcus covered the phone and said, “Can John come over?”
“Um. Yeah. Obviously,” I said, then made a rolling gesture with my hands. Hurry up and tell me.
When Marcus hung up, I parked my hands on my hips. “What’s going on? Who was arrested?”
“Kenny Nelson.”
I punched the air. “Yes. Fuck yes!”
“The cops have him in custody now,” Marcus added, and he’d become the very embodiment of relief. Then his expression shifted once more. “But it’s not over. TJ Nelson is still at large.”
“They’ll find him too,” I said as excitement consumed me. This was huge. This was a big break, and I couldn’t wait to tell my brothers and sister and grandparents . . .
Wait.
“Why did John call you? Why is he coming over here?” I asked, curiosity taking over. Something didn’t add up. Some piece was missing.
Epilogue
Marcus
All my practice in courage had led me to this.
To say the hard things.
Do the hard things.
And it was finally time to tell my . . . my brother.
I loved that word. Brother. Loved what it meant. Loved what it had given me.
Trust. Hope. Most of all, faith in myself.
I raised my chin and pulled the string on the ball of yarn that would unravel my biggest secret. “I’ve been helping the detective for a few weeks now. Helping him with the case.”
Colin was poised like a leopard. “How?”
Tension radiated across my body as I gave voice to the depths of it. “My father.”
Colin’s jaw ticked in question. “What about him?”
I unraveled the next thread. “He was involved.”
Colin never broke his gaze, staring intently at me, desperation in his tone. “How? How was he involved?”
I swallowed, and words rained forth. All the terrible truths I’d started to suspect over the last year. Things I didn’t want to be true. But in the last few weeks, I put all those details together. Added them up. Figured them out.
And now all the awful secrets I’d learned tumbled forth. “There are things I know about my dad. He is a piano teacher. But he’s much more. So are the Royal Sinners. They’re a street gang, but they’re powerful. They have friends in high places. And my dad is one of them. He’s so far inside that hardly anyone knows who he really is, or that he’s starting to lose control of some of his men. Like Kenny and TJ.”
Colin blinked, then asked in a rough voice, “Your dad works with those guys?”
I squared my shoulders, drew a deep breath, and answered with the cold, bitter truth about my family.
“He doesn’t just work with them. They answer to him. My father is the head of the Royal Sinners.”
THE END
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My Sinful Longing (Sinful Men Book 3) Page 23