Sinful Empire (The Anti-Heroes Collection Book 3)

by Meghan March

“Keira—” He repeats my name, but it barely penetrates the buzzing in my ears.

  “You said you took care of this. And when you said you took care of it, I believed you! You know why? Because every time you say that, it means you fucking took care of it!”

  “Will you calm—”

  “Don’t you dare tell me to calm down! Is my husband down there too? How many people do you have locked up in the basement?”

  His expression, already hard, turns stony. “He’s at the bottom of the fucking bayou, not in the goddamned basement.”

  I fling my hand wildly at the screen. “Then what the hell is she doing down there? She tried to kill me! She’s the reason my best friend is in a coma! And what about the other women in that tomb? Why is she still alive?”

  Lachlan’s granite features dissolve into pure anguish. “Because I couldn’t fucking kill her, okay? I couldn’t fucking pull the trigger.”

  I grip the edge of the desk, my lungs heaving as I try to understand what the hell is going on here. Clearly, I’m missing something massive.

  “Tell me why, Lachlan. You have to tell me why.” I speak each word carefully, like my sanity depends on it, because it actually might.

  My husband—who I’m beginning to question if I know at all—scrubs both hands over his face. “It’s complicated.”

  “Then I suggest you uncomplicate it right now. I’m starting to wonder if I have a clue who you really are, and I really don’t like wondering that.”

  With his fingers pressed to his temples, Lachlan’s eyes close for a beat before fixing on me. “My past is ugly.”

  “And I married you knowing exactly what and who you are—at least, I thought I did.” I point at the woman on the monitor. “She shot me. She told me she was your destiny. She said you were supposed to love her. I think I deserve an explanation.”

  Lachlan’s face turns into that unreadable mask I’ve seen too many times. “Then you better sit down, because this isn’t a short story. It’s the story of my fucking life.”

  I drop into his desk chair, my injuries protesting at the sudden movement, and I look at the image of the unconscious woman strapped to a hospital bed and then back at my husband.

  “You can start whenever you’re ready. Preferably now.”

  Mount

  Thirteen years earlier

  College graduation. This was the first one I’d ever attended, because I sure as hell didn’t spend a day in college myself. Watching Destiny cross the stage and accept her diploma from MIT caused a rush of pride to roll through me.

  After the ceremony, I waited outside among a crowd of families hugging and celebrating. I’d never felt more out of place in my life, regardless of how expensive my suit was.

  When Destiny rushed through the crowd, she didn’t stop to talk to anyone. Her eyes were locked on me, and she launched herself into my arms. Out of sheer instinct, I caught her.

  “See? I did it!”

  “Never doubted you for a second.” Destiny had always been smart.

  “I wish . . . I wish Hope had been here to see it.”

  Guilt stabbed into me, sharper than the switchblade I carry in my pocket. I still didn’t know whether I was responsible, or if she was dead before I got there. There was no way for me to ever put that guilt to rest.

  I forced a smile onto my face when I looked at Destiny. “I’m sure she’s looking down on you.”

  A smile trembled on her lips. “You think?”

  “Of course.”

  “I think you’re right.”

  Desperate to change the subject, I asked, “You ready?”

  “Yeah. My apartment’s packed.”

  I turned, but the words she just spoke stopped me before I could take a step. “I meant for dinner. Not to move. You’re not coming back to New Orleans. There’s nothing for you there.”

  Destiny, the girl I still remembered as the five-year-old whose door I slept outside of, crossed her arms with a stubborn tilt to her chin. “I’m coming back. I didn’t bust my ass to learn all this stuff to put it to work for someone else.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I’m coming to work for you.” Her tone was adamant, but not as adamant as mine.

  “The fuck you are. Not a chance in hell. You wouldn’t last a day in my world, Desi. You need to stay as far away from me and New Orleans as you can after today.”

  I headed for the car, her heels clicking on the sidewalk behind me as she hurried to catch up. I unlocked the rental as she stopped at the passenger side.

  “Hand-to-hand combat. Sharpshooter training. Microexpression identification. Tactical driving.”

  “What the fuck does that mean?”

  “I’ve spent the last four years learning every single thing I could in and out of the classroom so I’d be an asset to the organization. An asset to you. You never wondered why I needed all that extra money for classes? This is why. If you think you’re going to ship me off somewhere and expect me to stay away, then you don’t know me very well.”

  “Destiny—”

  “No. I’m J now. Isn’t that how it works? First letter of my last name. You’ve spent almost twenty years protecting me, and now it’s my turn. I will prove myself. I’m not a kid, Mount. I’m an asset. Use me.”

  “That’s not why I sent you here. You’ve got a shot at a normal life—”

  Destiny’s expression twisted into one of mock humor. “Really? Because I don’t come from the same shit that you do? You think somehow I’m going to turn into Suzy Homemaker and pop out a few kids for some upper-middle-class salesman who probably fucks his secretary? Is that what you really want for me?”

  “I’d kill him.”

  Her smile turned triumphant. “Exactly. And if anyone crosses you, I’ll kill them. It’s my turn to repay what you’ve done for me my whole life. I’ll prove to you that I’m strong enough. That I’m good enough. This is how it’s always been meant to be, Mount. You and me against the world.”

  I yanked open the door and took a seat inside, jamming the key into the ignition as she settled into the passenger seat. As I started the car, I wished I could say I didn’t understand where she was coming from with this, but I did. I knew what it was like to want to prove your worth. To prove that you belonged somewhere.

  “Don’t make me regret this, J.” I shot her a sharp look as I shifted into reverse.

  “I’ve got your back, boss. You’ll see.”

  Keira

  Present day

  With each story he tells me about Hope and Destiny and what they endured, especially the part about carrying Hope’s body out of the burning house while Destiny watched, my heart shatters into smaller and smaller pieces.

  Not for myself, but for them. All of them. For the children they never got to be. For the chance they never got at a normal life.

  Lachlan has spent the last hour telling me everything. Well, telling my shoulder. Or the wall. Or the ceiling.

  Until he finally meets my gaze, and the pain and anguish in his is almost more than I can bear.

  “If she were anyone else, she’d already be dead for what she did to you. But I couldn’t pull the trigger. It makes me the biggest fucking hypocrite in the world, because I wiped a goddamned cartel out of this city for spilling your blood, and she was the one who put it all in motion. She hired a low-level cartel member to take the shot. They didn’t order it, she did, and I’ve spent the last week while you were in the hospital undoing the damage she caused. She’s the reason I cut a deal with the other cartel. They’re taking responsibility, and in exchange, they get a monopoly on sourcing all the drug trade in the city.” He glances up at the ceiling again. “And still, I couldn’t put a bullet in her brain like she deserves. Fuck, I couldn’t even order someone else to do it, because I’m—”

  I cut him off. “Not the monster you thought you were? Because you’re human?”

  Lachlan’s hard gaze cuts to mine. “No—”

  I stand and wa
lk around the desk, coming toward the man I married, realizing that in some ways, I know him better than he knows himself.

  “You shouldn’t—”

  “Love you? Tell you that after everything you’ve shared with me, I couldn’t kill her either if I were you? Because that’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

  Carefully, I lower myself onto his lap and pull his stiff arm around me.

  He watches me with confusion creasing his brow. “You should want her dead for what she did to you and Magnolia. And, God . . . the rest of them.”

  My stomach twists at the thought of all those bodies in that mausoleum, but I shove it down. “How can I want her dead when you’ve been watching out for her practically her whole life? She’s like a little sister to you. None of you got a fair chance, not from the beginning. She’s broken, Lachlan. You didn’t do that. Her life did.”

  “That doesn’t mean she’s not culpable for her actions.” His words sound almost as rusty as V’s did.

  “She’s as culpable as anyone who’s criminally insane. Her mind isn’t right. You can’t tell me it is.”

  He looks away, his jaw tense. “She’s a fucking genius, Keira. She graduated at the top of her class at MIT. I won’t make excuses for her—”

  I grip his chin and turn his face back to me. “Then I will. Because she can be a genius all day long and still have severe mental-health issues that she’s done an incredible job of hiding from you. She needs help.”

  He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “And how the hell do I help her? She knows too much for me to hand her off to some clinic to put on lockdown somewhere.”

  “You’re richer than God, Lachlan. Don’t tell me you can’t get her help and keep your secrets safe at the same time.”

  He lowers his head until his forehead rests against mine. “This has been tearing me apart since the second I realized what she’d done.”

  “Then let me help put you back together. We’re a team. There’s nothing we can’t handle.”

  He lifts his head, and something akin to awe softens his features. “I don’t deserve you.”

  “Good thing I know you’re wrong. Now, come on, you have shit to figure out. Plans to put into motion, because that’s what you do. And I have to go to work before my dad calls the fucking FBI.”

  Lachlan buries his hand in my hair and whispers two words. “Thank you.”

  Keira

  Three months later

  “Where the hell are we going?” Lachlan growls the question in my ear as we climb the stairs to his jet. The jet I requested be fueled and ready for the honeymoon I planned.

  I turn around and shoot him a saucy smile. “Remember that time you didn’t tell me we were going to Dublin until we were already in the air? Consider this turnabout being fair play. Besides, growl all you want. I think it’s sexy.”

  “Keira—”

  “Patience, husband. Patience.”

  His gaze skewers me, but he doesn’t say anything else. I’m pretty sure it takes everything he has not to march to the cockpit and demand our destination from the pilot. The pilot I’ve sworn to secrecy with the threat of losing his job.

  It turns out, when I issue threats now, people take them seriously.

  That doesn’t mean the last two months haven’t been without their challenges, however. Destiny is settled into a locked-down facility where she receives round-the-clock care and a boatload of counseling and medication. She’s officially been diagnosed with dissociative identity disorder. She’s also smart as hell, and has tried to escape multiple times. Thankfully, the massive amount of security on the premises has foiled every attempt before she got too far. She’s done a lot of talking, though, including about how she’s known for years that Hope was buried in that mausoleum, because she’d followed Lachlan on the anniversary of her sister’s death and watched him lay flowers at the doors.

  Magnolia finally woke up, praise the Lord, but doesn’t remember anything about what happened. I think it’s better that way. She’s on “leave” from her job, because she’s also undergoing a lot of physical and occupational therapy. She definitely is receiving sister-of-the-queen benefits.

  The distillery is chugging along, making the best whiskey in the country. Then again, I’m biased. Even though the rackhouse caught fire, all was not lost. Smoke and flames damaged several of the barrels, but my father, with a lifetime of experience, had a hypothesis that was genius—the smoke and char on the barrels added a totally different flavor to the whiskey, in a good way. When we bottled a few of the barrels that were properly aged, the flavor was incredible. Something we might never be able to duplicate, and due to the scarcity, the price has skyrocketed.

  Seven Sinners’ Phoenix Label is now one of the rarest and most expensive whiskeys on the market. We’re experimenting with smoking and charring our barrels, but this time, without the fire department needing to be called in.

  We also launched the Spirit of New Orleans on a limited release, and the response has been phenomenal. Our expansion project has been moved to the top of the priority list because we need more capacity yesterday. As soon as the expansion project is complete in about sixty days, we’ll start tours of the facility, and New Orleans will have a brand-new attraction.

  Mom and Dad went back to Florida after about a month, but before they left, my dad told me something I’ve been waiting years to hear.

  “I wouldn’t have been able to leave this company in anyone else’s hands. You’ve done me proud, Keira, and you’ve done things I never dreamed Seven Sinners could accomplish. Your grandfather and his father before him would be proud too. You’re a credit to the family name, my girl.”

  I still haven’t told my parents I don’t actually bear the family name anymore, or that the rock on my hand isn’t just an engagement ring. When I asked my husband for advice, his response was simple. “Tell them or don’t. Whenever and whatever you want. I’ll always make sure they’re safe regardless.”

  Yeah . . . I’m still working on that, although I’m pretty sure my dad figured it out. He’s not dumb, and V’s constant presence around the distillery is a dead giveaway that something is very, very different.

  But shockingly, Dad didn’t push, and somehow, he kept my mom from asking questions too.

  I don’t live in the light anymore, but Lachlan doesn’t live solely in the shadows either. We’ve found a happy medium, and that happy medium is heading out of the country so we can be Lachlan and Keira again like we were in Dublin.

  When I attempt to take the seat next to him, he pulls me onto his lap.

  “You’re going to tell me. I demand to know.”

  “You demand? That’s pretty serious. I mean, what with your reputation and all.”

  “Damn right, hellion. You should fear me, because I own you.”

  Even though his tone is dark and gritty, I can’t help but smile.

  “You own me . . . hmm? So, does that mean my ass is yours? Or did I wear this monster butt plug for no reason?”

  Shock. It’s not an expression I see often on his face, but it’s definitely there now.

  “Excuse me?”

  I force my expression into mock severity. “I don’t repeat myself.”

  His dark gaze flares with heat. “Then I guess I’m going to have to find out for myself if what I thought I heard was right.”

  The jet hurtles down the runway as his lips crash into mine. I squirm on his lap as the heat that was already present between my legs ratchets up about a hundred degrees.

  By the time we reach cruising altitude, I’m missing my shirt, and we’re tangled up on the long sofa in the back of the plane.

  “You need a jet with a bedroom. Time to upgrade, Lachlan.”

  “If I’d known I’d fall in love with a woman who pushed me to the edge just by breathing, I would’ve gotten one.”

  I still as the words leave his lips. “You love me?”

  It’s been months, and even though I was pretty certain Lachlan Mount l
oved me—because if nothing else, he’s a man of action rather than words—I’ve still wanted to hear the words.

  “Are you fucking crazy, hellion? Of course I love you. The thought of losing you almost killed me. I’ve never known how to love anyone, but you taught me. You made it impossible not to love you.”

  I bite my lip as tears burn behind my eyes.

  “Don’t you dare cry. Not now.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do, Lachlan Mount.”

  “I’ll tell you what to do anytime I want, Keira Mount. Especially when you’re naked.”

  The burn of the tears dissipates. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

  His lips descend onto mine, taking over, just like he always does. “Tell me where we’re going,” he demands against my mouth.

  “No. Not yet.”

  “How long do you think you’ll be able to hold out while I keep you on the edge of orgasm?”

  “I guess we’ll see.”

  Mount

  “Please! Just let me come!”

  “Tell me.”

  My wife bares her teeth at me like a wild animal. I can attest to the fact that she is by the scratches on my back, and I wouldn’t have her any other way.

  I press against the plug in her ass, loving how her wetness drips down to it as I tease her piercing with my tongue.

  “No!”

  “Stubborn, stubborn hellion.” I toy with the plug. “I bet when I sink my cock into this tight little ass, you’ll scream my name and whatever else I want to know.”

  She arches her back, lifting toward me.

  In all reality, I couldn’t care less where we’re going, but being with Keira—especially locked in a battle of wills that’s playing out naked—is my most favorite thing in the world.

  “Try me.” She grits out the words, desperately reaching to steal her orgasm, and I let her have it because I can’t deny her anything for long.

  When she screams my name, I’m actually proud she held out against telling me. I’ve never liked surprises before, but with Keira, everything is different.