The Sinners of Saint Amos: The Full 3-book Boxset

by Logan Fox

  Don’t forget the fact that I barely had any sleep last night. I’m surprised I’m not walking with a limp.

  “This beautiful mess needs coffee,” I groan, but Cass puts up his spatula in warning when I attempt to climb off my bar stool.

  “What did I say about setting foot in my kitchen when I’m cooking?”

  I quirk an eyebrow at him, but I stay where I am. I’ve had my ass pummeled with that spatula before, and I don’t think I can handle that level of sheer eroticism so early in the morning.

  Not without coffee.

  Not while Cass is wearing my cooking apron.

  He gives me an evil grin, as if he’s reading my thoughts, and briefly abandons whatever heavenly dish he’s cooking to make me a cup of coffee.

  “Are you saying I’m not capable of pushing a button?” I ask dryly, as he sets down a cup in the espresso machine.

  “You shouldn’t have to,” he shoots back. “Not after what we put you through last night.”

  I blush, and try to cover it up with my hands before he can notice. But he looks back just in time to see my cheeks turn red.

  “Fuck, girl,” he murmurs, “Don’t make me come over there and give you something to blush about.”

  I barely stop a giggle from spilling out, instead focusing on the coffee Cass slides over the marble-top island toward me. He tosses the bacon and onions he was frying into a large bowl and starts stirring it as he sends me another lewd smile.

  Oh God…is he making a frittata again? I take a quick sip of coffee to wash down the saliva flooding my mouth. And I’m not drooling over the food.

  Cass looks like he just walked out of a photo shoot. I know he doesn’t use product in his hair, so how can it look like he spent hours in front of the mirror teasing it into the perfect bed-head style?

  Does it even matter that my apron has a pink unicorn on it?

  No, it does not.

  He rocks awsum.

  “Now you let me get this in the oven, then I’m taking you upstairs and—” he begins.

  “Breakfast will have to wait,” Rube says from the stairs.

  We both turn, Cass with spatula raised, me with my coffee cup by my lips.

  As soon as Cass spots Rube, he switches off the oven and starts untying the apron. “What happened?”

  Rube looks grimly at me, and then flicks his fingers. “Best if you see yourself.”

  My stomach lurches.

  No.

  No, no, no! I want to stamp my foot like a five-year-old. Can’t I have a little bit of normal?

  Cass and I follow Rube up the stairs to Apollo’s room. It’s kitted out with a double bed, and a computer station that—to me, anyway—looks like something out of the Swordfish movie.

  The computer area is the only part of his room that’s not chaotic. Everything else is partially submerged under magazines, surfing gear, or clothes.

  “Do you ever let the maid in here?” Cass asks. He picks his way across the floor like he’s walking through a minefield.

  “She was in here yesterday,” Apollo mumbles absently, and then pushes away from the table, pointing to one of three massive monitors.

  Honestly, the only thing he’s missing is a hologram projector.

  “What is it?” I ask, standing in the doorway. I don’t have a thing about untidiness…I don’t like computers very much. The most time I’ve ever spent on one was when I was copying the files for them off Gabriel’s laptop.

  I guess maybe that’s why I don’t like them—they only remind me of bad things.

  “It’s an article posted a few days ago,” Apollo says. “It’s…uh…” he looks up at Rube, who nods. “It’s about Gabriel.”

  I frown at him. “He made the news? Why would he do that? He’s got to know the police are after him?”

  He has Zachary’s attempted homicide hanging over his head, a fact that I’m pretty sure was made clear when the police taped up my old house and then froze his accounts.

  But it was like he disappeared into thin air after his discussion with Apollo. The police couldn’t find a trace of him, and neither could we.

  It’s been months.

  Secretly—selfishly—I’d hoped the guys had put everything behind them. That they were starting new lives and leaving their Ghosts and Guardians and all of that behind them.

  Now this.

  “He…kinda didn’t have a say in the matter,” Apollo says.

  I roll my eyes. “What have I told you lot about being cryptic? It’s just plain annoying.”

  Crossing my arms over my chest, I venture deeper into Apollo’s room, until I’m standing beside Rube. He smooths a hand down my head, toying with a curl as I lean in to read what’s on Apollo’s screen.

  VIRGINIA PRIEST FOUND DEAD IN TIJUANA

  My skin goes cold. “No,” I murmur. “Oh my God.”

  The article states Gabriel’s body was discovered by hotel staff in his room in Tijuana, Mexico a day after he hung himself. What the hell he was doing there was anyone’s guess.

  I stop reading halfway through. Clear my throat. “Well…I guess that…ends it?” But when I look up at my men, they’re all staring at me like they’re waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  “What is it?”

  “You read that last bit, right?” Cass asks, pointing.

  I decline to answer, instead I’m craning over Apollo’s shoulder again.

  The last line of the article sends a centipede crawling down my back.

  The executor of Father Gabriel Blake’s estate requests that any next of kin contact them urgently.

  And then a phone number with a Virginia area code.

  “Nope.” I shake my head as I retreat. “Not interested.”

  “Trinity,” Rube says, sliding his hand down my shoulder. But before he can grab me, I dodge away from his touch.

  “Nope.” I cross my arms even tighter. “Nope, nope, nope.”

  When I turn, fully intent on stalking out of the room, Zachary’s barring my way.

  God damn it! I hate it when they gang up on me outside of the bedroom.

  “I’m not calling,” I tell him, holding up my hands. “You can’t make me.”

  “What if he left you something?” Apollo asks. “Don’t you want to know what it is?”

  “I couldn’t care if he left me a private jet and some of Fort Knox’s gold,” I say, glaring at Apollo over my shoulder. “I don’t want anything to do with him.”

  “He’s your father, Trinity,” Rube says.

  “He’s most definitely not.”

  “Whatever you don’t claim goes to the state,” Zachary says.

  I turn away from all of them, instead staring out the window at the distant sea. It’s idyllic out there which is bullshit, because nothing short of pre-hurricane weather will suit my mood right now.

  “Including whatever’s in that safe.”

  The sudden hush in the room after Zachary’s statement isn’t from us being quiet. It’s the hush of breaths being held.

  Shit.

  I forgot about the safe.

  But from their reactions to Zachary’s statement, my men haven’t. For all I know, Apollo’s still been running his password cracking software every second of every day since they left Saint Amos. In fact, now I’m pretty sure they’ve never stopped searching for their Ghosts.

  And I want to keep them from their truth because I’m too busy being happy?

  I turn to Zachary. “Then go. You can take my social security card and claim whatever—” I wave at the computer “—it is.”

  Zachary shakes his head. “You have to be there in person.”

  “Yeah? And how would you know?” I have no right to be angry with him, but I need to channel this frustration—this fear—somehow.

  “Because when I had to claim my inheritance after my parents died, I didn’t want to be there either.” He looks up, to the side. “But I’m glad I did, because at least we have a roof over our heads.”

  The ba
stard is guilt-tripping me.

  And it’s working.

  I’ve contributed nothing to our home. I would have, obviously, but I don’t have a penny to my name. No job. No inheritance.

  But if Gabriel left me something…

  “Fine,” I snap. “Then let’s go.”

  “What about breakfast?” Apollo calls out as we all stream out of his chaotic room.

  “We’ll get something on the way,” Cass says over his shoulder.

  “Aw, man. I was looking forward to that.”

  My stomach grumbles quietly to itself as I head upstairs to change.

  Yeah, Apollo. You and me both.

  Chapter Thirty

  Trinity

  I don’t like this place. There’s too much chrome and glass and expensive-looking art on the walls. Gabriel’s executor—a middle-aged woman whose name I already forgot—has a habit of clicking her pen after every statement she makes, like a judge banging her gavel.

  “And this is the last one. If you’ll just sign here.” She taps a line on the paperwork, as if I’ve been struck blind and can’t notice the bright yellow post-it arrow stuck to the side of the page. And then clicks her pen.

  Click.

  I sign. Date. I slide the form over to Reuben. He signs as a witness. Dates.

  The lawyer takes the paper back and then stands, going over to a cabinet with a keypad on the side. But not before she runs her gaze over my men.

  I don’t know how much she’s figured out about our relationship, but the fact that all four of them accompanied me into the room probably gave her some clues. Then there were the hickeys I wasn’t allowed to cover up with makeup. Four hickeys…four men…

  She should know they’re mine. And I swear, if she looks at them like they’re a deep-dish pizza and she’s just come off a fast, I’m gonna—

  “Almost done,” Rube says, sliding his hand onto my thigh.

  I’m wearing a sunny empire-waist dress. I should feel like a doll, but I don’t. Which is weird, because it definitely felt like Cass was playing dress up with me. He always insists on dressing me and anyone else who doesn’t have enough willpower to turn him down before we leave the house.

  My curls are scooped up on top of my head, but a few straggle down around my neck. I’m even wearing a touch of lipstick and a slick of mascara, which is usually all they allow me to wear, makeup-wise. I was also denied underwear, but that’s a battle I lost a long time ago.

  Thankfully I managed to get away with a pair of mules and not high heels like Cass almost always insists I wear.

  It’s not my problem they’re all at least a foot taller than me.

  The lawyer comes back with an envelope.

  She’s already handed me the keys to my old house, which is the only thing Gabriel left me in his will. Apparently, he only had a hundred dollars to his name. He didn’t own a car, or any shares or anything. No overseas bank accounts. Nothing.

  Just the house which, according to the lawyer, had been transferred into his name less than a year ago by my parents’ estate.

  “What’s this?” I ask her.

  And for the first time today, despite my barrage of questions, she shrugs. “It was found among his things. It’s marked for your attention only.”

  “Maybe it’s the password,” Apollo says.

  I don’t have to look around to know his brothers are all glaring at him.

  Best way to keep a secret? Don’t tell Apollo.

  “Password?” the lawyer repeats.

  I wave my hand, and then toss a curl over my shoulder as I stand. “Private joke,” I tell her. Then I stick out my hand, all formal like, and wait for her to shake.

  She does, but reluctantly, as if she’s waiting for me to open the envelope.

  Don’t hold your breath, lady.

  I turn to leave, when Zachary says, “Did he leave a note?”

  Freezing, I stare at the door. Only a few more steps, and we’d have been outside. Free.

  But not yet.

  “Um…yes. But I can’t disclose—”

  I turn on my heel, my voice snippy with how desperate I want to be out of here. “I’m next of kin. You can disclose it to me.”

  The woman looks at my men, then back at me. “I…have a copy.”

  “That’s fine.” I cross my arms, giving my boobs a little perk that doesn’t go unnoticed. When I take the folded paper she hands me, and head for the door, my men follow me without a word.

  Outside in the Range Rover, I’m nestled between Zachary and Reuben on the back seat, Cass driving and Apollo sitting shotgun.

  Someone lights a joint, but I’m too busy staring at the envelope in my hands to see who it is.

  They read Gabriel’s suicide note in the elevator on the way down, handing it silently to each other. Rube wanted to give it to me, but I ignored him.

  I don’t want to know what Gabriel said.

  Judging from their lack of conversation on the topic for the next five floors until we hit ground level, it wasn’t important anyway.

  “Aren’t you going to open it?” Cass asks.

  I look up, catching sight of his iridescent blue eyes in the rear-view mirror. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  I slip the envelope into my purse, and tuck it between Zach and me. He looks over at the touch, and then grabs my wrist. He holds me for a beat, tight and fierce, and then smooths my hand over his thigh.

  “Home then?” Cass asks.

  “I’m hungry,” Apollo says.

  “You ate like an hour ago,” Cass sighs.

  “So?”

  “Christ. Fine. And I’m guessing you want a fucking taco? Where’s the closest—”

  “Take me to Maude Street,” I tell Cass.

  Beside me, Rube shifts on his seat. I keep looking forward, willing him not to ask me if I’m okay.

  Because I’m not.

  But maybe I will be if I can finally burn my bridges.

  I told the lawyer that I didn’t want the house. That she could sell it. I signed some papers setting it all up.

  But I know what my men want.

  And now, maybe, I can finally give it to them.

  “The safe?” Apollo asks, turning in his seat and grabbing the headrest. “We’re going to look in the safe?”

  “It’s probably empty by now,” Zachary says.

  “Yeah, but maybe it’s not.” Apollo grins at me. “And we know the combination.”

  “Do you still remember it?” Rube asks me.

  Of course I do. It came back along with everything else that happened that horrific day.

  4211.

  The same combination that opens the basement apparently opens the safe in the study. At least, that’s what my men decided after deciphering what Gabriel said to Apollo.

  I still can’t believe Apollo let him go. Then again…I still can’t believe a lot of the things that happened that day.

  When we pull up to my old house on Maude Street, I almost wish I’d let Cass drive us to the nearest Mexican take-out instead. My stomach’s in knots, and I know it’ll only get worse when I’m inside.

  I guess word got out about the shooting. Everyone who was home that day must have heard the gunshots. The screams. The ambulance arriving.

  As we head for my house, I see a handful of For Lease and For Sale signs down the road. Even the one right across my house.

  It’s sad. I lived in this house for close to a decade, and the only neighbor I knew was my babysitter, Miss Langley.

  I take the house key out of my purse. I stare at it for a second before inhaling deep, putting down my purse, and turning to Rube.

  “Okay,” I tell him. “I’m ready.”

  He climbs out of the car and helps me step off the Range Rover’s running board.

  Then all the other doors open, my men pouring out of the car and circling me like a bunch of secret service agents.

  I hold up my hand. “I got this.”

  “You can’t—”

  I turn
on Zachary. “I can’t walk five yards without adult supervision?” I ask, sugar sweet.

  His jaw bunches, but he doesn’t say anything.

  “Can’t we just—” Rube says.

  “Do you guys think it’s booby-trapped or something? Is the whole place going to explode the second I open the front door?” I walk ahead a foot and then turn on them, arms on my hips. “Seriously?”

  They have the decency to look slightly embarrassed, but that doesn’t stop Cass from opening his mouth to argue.

  “No.” I lift a finger. “No. I’ll be right over there.” I point at the house. “You’ll be close enough to hear me scream.”

  Ooh, bad choice of words.

  “Scream?” Apollo says, practically going to his toes. Rube’s hands curls into fists. Zachary’s eyes narrow. And Cass isn’t lounging against the side of the car anymore. He’s standing at the ready.

  “Just…” I let out an exasperated growl. “Just stay in the car, would you? I’ll be out in a minute.”

  I turn and head for the house, not bothering to find out if they’ll grant me my wish.

  I get that they’re concerned about my safety, but Gabriel’s dead. There’s no bogeyman ready to snatch me anymore.

  But when will they realize that?

  My hand shakes when I try and put the key in the lock, so I take a few long breaths before letting myself in.

  I leave the door open, turn around, and give my boys a wave.

  Only Apollo waves back.

  Why do I have a feeling I’m going to pay for this when we get home?

  A faint smile toys around my lips.

  I should do this more often.

  The air inside my house smells stale. There’s still blood on the carpet where Zachary was shot. The furniture is still out of place.

  But Gabriel must have come back at least once, perhaps after the investigation grew cold, because there’s a hint of cigarette smoke in the air.

  I pause at the foot of the stairs, and then hurry up them to my room.

  It’s still in the catastrophic state Gabriel left it in. I turn and take the framed drawing of the awsum unicorn from the wall, stare around at the place I called home, and head downstairs with a knot in my throat.