Sin

by Crystal V. Rhodes

  SIN

  by

  Crystal V. Rhodes

  Smashwords Edition

  OTHER NOVELS in the SIN SERIES

  by

  Crystal V. Rhodes

  SWEET SACRIFICE

  SECRETS

  STRANGERS

  SHADOWS OF LOVE

  All books are available in Ebook and Paperback format

  Published in the United States of America by

  CRYSTAL INK Publishing, L.L.C.

  This is a work of fiction. All events, characters, places and incidents are strictly products of the author’s imagination. Any similarities to persons living or dead are completely coincidental.

  COPYRIGHT © 2000 by Crystal V. Rhodes

  First E book Edition, 2013

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission of the author

  ISBN: 978-0-9719586-8-5

  Cover Art by Judy Bullard of Custom Ebook Covers

  Smashwords Edition License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  DEDICATION

  This book is dedicated to the four women who have most influenced my life: my mother, my grandmother and my aunts. It is also dedicated to my daughter, who will carry their legacy into the future.

  PROLOGUE

  “My mother was a junkie.”

  The words were said so matter-of-fact that Nedra Davis wasn’t certain that she had heard them. Her only acknowledgment that he had spoken was a slight shift in her seat. She registered no surprise. He registered no emotion. His expression was unreadable as he continued.

  “She was 25 years old when she died. I was ten.”

  Simple math told her that he had been the product of a teenage pregnancy. She didn’t want to speculate, but she could guess the rest of the scenario—young, pregnant, desperate girl finds escape from the reality of her dilemma in drugs. She had witnessed it too many times, and it seemed that it was the innocent ones, the children, who suffered the most. Neglected, dejected, too often abandoned and left alone to make their own way, their futures were predictable—crime, drugs, imprisonment, and much too often, death.

  There were times, however, that the outcome was different. The lucky ones escaped the cycle of despair, using reservoirs of strength that never ceased to amaze.

  Nedra studied the man sitting in front of her. He was one of the lucky ones.

  Strikingly handsome, he was dressed, impeccably, in an expensive, double breasted, suit. His snow white shirt complemented the reddish hues in his chocolate brown skin. His hair was cut close to his head in a wavy black sculpture, sprinkled sparsely with gray. A thick, well trimmed mustache enhanced the sparkling smile he had bestowed on her when he approached her in the parking lot earlier. Coal black eyes, beneath long sooty lashes looked as if they could see straight into her soul. Sharp cheekbones emphasized a broad, flat nose. Embedded in his chin was a deep cleft, which gave his features a rugged, masculine quality. He was 6 feet 2 inches of masculine perfection, a man any woman couldn’t help but notice—even a female minister.

  “Reverend Davis,” he continued, “This boy is the same age as I was when my mother died. His little brother is only five. Yet, this ten year old is responsible for his kid brother—feeding him, clothing him, and keeping a roof over his head. It’s a job he takes very seriously.”

  “You say you caught him trying to steal your car?” Nedra was surprised at his calm reaction to such a transgression. “Why didn’t you call the police?”

  “Actually, he was trying to steal the radio.” He chuckled, ignoring her question for the moment. “Cursed me out good when I caught him, but he’s a bright kid. Smart as hell!”

  Nedra raised a brow at his choice of words. He didn’t blink, recant, or apologize.

  “He by-passed my alarm system with some gadget he made himself with a piece of wood, some wires, tape and batteries. I looked at the thing and couldn’t figure out how he did it. The kid is a mechanical genius.”

  “You keep calling him ‘the kid’. Does the boy have a name?” His enthusiasm over this child had piqued her interest.

  “His name is Colin Johnson. His little brother’s name is Trevor. Both of the boys are quite articulate.”

  “They sound interesting.”

  “They are, and they’re good kids trapped in a bad situation. That’s why I came here to your church, instead of calling the cops on Colin. I’ve heard that under you, this church has an excellent reputation in the community. You serve it well with a child care center, low cost housing, an on the job training program, a food pantry, clothes closet, drug rehab program and a homeless shelter. You name it, Mount Peter is doing it.”

  “We try.”

  “No, you do more than try. You get the job done. When I took that boy home to talk to his mother—” He sighed, running his hand over his face in frustration as he recalled the boy’s environment. “Nobody should live like that. It was filthy! Dirty clothes and dirty dishes. The smell was awful! The place hadn’t been cleaned since who knows when. There was no food in the refrigerator. The little one was there by himself—raggedy and hungry. Colin was trying to steal the radio so he could sell it for money to buy food. That’s what his little brother told me.”

  “Poor little things.”

  “The boys claimed that their mother was coming home soon. I knew they were lying. I figured that she hadn’t been around for a while. I was in and out of there for four, maybe, five hours. I bought food and cleaning supplies, and made them clean up that rat trap. I didn’t see her while I was there. I took them to the Laundromat to wash the clothes, and I bought them a couple of outfits.”

  “That was very nice of you.” The more he spoke, the more impressed she was with this man. If she had passed him on the street she would have identified him as another aimless playboy, not the kind, caring man he appeared to be.

  “Nice has nothing to do with it. As I said before, I was Colin at ten. He and his brother need help, and I want to see that they get it. I think that you can make that happen.”

  Clasping her hands together on top of her desk, Nedra sighed. There was so much need for so many. It was hard to keep up.

  “What can we do?”

  Briefly, his dark eyes drifted away from her to the Brenda Joyce print hanging on the pale, yellow wall behind her. It was a print of a mother and child, a portrait striking in its beauty and grace. His eyes shifted back to Nedra, piercing her with their intensity as she sat watching him.

  Who was this stranger? He had approached her as she unlocked the back door of the church, his deep, masculine voice calling her name. Startled, she turned and her heartbeat accelerated as she saw him standing there. He was so tall and so handsome. Her heartbeat hadn’t slowed since.

  “I’ve been going by the boys’ house for two weeks now,” he continued, “and I’ve only seen evidence once that their mother has been back in that apartment.”

  “What was that?”

  “I’ve been leaving her notes everyday asking her to call me. She did, last night, sounding high as a kite. She gave all kinds of excuses for missing me at the apartment, and then said that she needed some money to pay the rent. But, I knew she was lying.”

  “How?”

  “I’d already paid the r
ent for three months in advance. She just didn’t know it.”

  “So she wanted the money for dope.”

  “What else? When I refused to give it to her, she offered to—” He shifted uncomfortably, in his chair. “Well, let’s say she’ll do anything for a fix. I refused that offer, so she tried to sell the boys to me.”

  Nedra’s heart lurched. “Oh my God!”

  “That’s why I’m here. Those kids have to leave there.”

  “You’re right. Where are they now?”

  “At home. As soon as she hung up I went by to check on them, hoping that I could catch her, but I didn’t. Trevor is the only one that I can get any information from and he said she came home briefly and then left again. I stayed with them until early this morning, went home, changed and came straight here.” He sat back in his chair allowing her time to absorb the information that he had provided.

  The sorrow that Nedra felt was overwhelming. She’d read about people selling their children, but the reality of what had been said stunned her. “Why haven’t you called the police about this? It’s obvious that those boys need to be removed from that house, immediately.”

  “I know, but I think it would be better if you called them. The boys are traumatized enough. I don’t want them to think that I betrayed them. I thought that maybe you might have some family in the church who could take them in. I heard about the foster-adopt program you have here. A lot of your church members adopt, is that right?”

  “Yes, I’m proud to say that’s true.”

  “Then isn’t there some way that you can make the process of removing them from their home easier, a way that they won’t have to go into the foster care system?

  Nedra paused, her mind skirting the possibilities of how she could make that happen. “I can make a call to a friend of mine and see what can be done. She’s a social worker at Children’s Services.”

  “Great.” He sighed with relief.

  Nedra started dialing the telephone. “She’ll need to talk with you.”

  “No problem.”

  Nedra smiled at him, reassuringly, as she waited for someone to respond to the ring. Nervously, she averted her eyes from his, unable to hold his piercing gaze. She was grateful when the call was answered on the other end.

  “Child Welfare,” Sharon Mays speaking.”

  “Hello, Sharon. It’s me.” Her tone was somber. “Unfortunately, I’ve got another one for you. A Mr...”

  Nedra glanced up at the stranger sitting across from her realizing that they had been talking for nearly an hour and she still didn’t know his name. “A Mr...”

  He gave her a crooked smile as he realized her dilemma. “Reasoner. Sinclair Reasoner.” The smile deepened. “But you can call me Sin.”

  CHAPTER 1

  Nedra sat with Carla watching as their friend, Sharon Mays, made her way through the lunch crowd of one of their favorite restaurants. The two women at the table had already attracted a lot of attention from most of the men in the trendy establishment when they entered a short time ago. Sharon’s entry was no different. She was stunning.

  The product of an inter-racial marriage, her good looks usually turned heads. Considerably shorter than Nedra’s imposing five feet ten, Sharon’s fair skin, gray eyes, wheat colored hair, straight nose and thin lips, were magnets for many men, but her features made her extremely uncomfortable. She identified herself, adamantly, as African-American, and was forever proving herself as a “sister”, wearing elaborate ethnic dress and using everything from bottled tanning lotions to memberships in year round tanning salons in an effort to darken her skin.

  A smile teased Nedra’s lips as she watched her friend approach them dressed in a brightly colored dress with a matching jacket. Her untamed mass of curls was held back from her face with a scarf, twisted elaborately around her flowing locks.

  “Girl! You’re looking good, Miss Thang!” Carla Ryan teased, as she planted a kiss on Sharon’s cheek. Nedra followed suit, adding a small hug of greeting as the three women settled at the table.

  “Forget you, heifer,” Sharon countered, her smile of pleasure at seeing her two best friends contradicting her tone of mock offense.

  Carla completed the trio, whom they had dubbed The Lemon, Chocolate and Vanilla Brigade. Friends for over a decade, Carla, like Sharon, had met Nedra at U.C. Berkley. Since then, the three women had been inseparable. Only an inch shorter than Nedra, Carla was a caramel colored beauty, slim and willowy, with reddish brown hair and dark brown eyes. Both women were a stark contrast to Nedra’s dark beauty.

  Ordering her lunch, Nedra sat back in her chair, contentedly. It had been quite a while since she had the time to enjoy a leisurely meal with her good friends. She wanted to savor the moment. Carla, being her usual aggressive self, was relating how she had confronted a policeman who accused her of making an illegal turn.

  “Things are at a sorry state when an innocent woman is treated like a criminal because she may have made one little bitty mistake!”

  Nedra and Sharon exchanged amused glances at their friend’s wounded tone. They both knew that Carla drove like a maniac, and was probably guilty of making the turn.

  “Anyway,” Carla concluded, having exhausted her pleas of innocence, “I was practically innocent. So, what’s up with you two? How about you, Ned? What’s the “Anti-Drug Queen” up to now?”

  Nedra frowned at the “Anti-Drug Queen” reference. A recent article in the newspaper had given her the name because of the latest crusade she was leading at Mount Peter to shut down drug houses in the neighborhoods around the church. Houses were being purchased from their owners, usually absentee landlords, and former addicts in their drug rehabilitation program were hired to renovate them. They were then sold at affordable prices to low income families. The innovative strategy had garnered a lot of media attention, and earned her the nickname that she didn’t like. Despite that, the Own Your Own Housing Project, which she had conceived, had become a rousing success.

  “Things are fantastic! O.Y.O. just received a major donation from the Palmer Corporation. It was enough to renovate two more houses, and put dozens of people to work.”

  “Go Girlfriend!” Sharon gave Nedra a high five. “I’m so proud of you.”

  “Thanks.” Nedra gave her a grateful smile.

  The three women had each had their dreams in college, and had supported each other in achieving them. Carla majored in marketing and wanted to own her own advertising agency. She now headed Ryan Advertising, a small company, competing with the majors, but alive and thriving after surviving its struggling first few years.

  Sharon had chosen a career in social work, a natural for a woman with a heart of gold. Nedra, who was a year older than Carla, and two years older than Sharon, had also majored in social work. When they were in college she had served as Sharon’s mentor. The two friends had talked about going into private practice together, counseling children and families, but Sharon was now a Department Supervisor with Children’s Services. She had plans to open her own consulting firm in the future. It still saddened her that she would be pursuing her goal without her best friend.

  After graduating from Berkeley, Nedra pursued a Masters Degree at a theological seminary. It was a decision that stunned her two friends. Although her mother was a minister, Nedra had never mentioned following in her footsteps. Unable to accept her decision, Carla and Sharon had actually urged her to seek psychiatric counseling.

  Even now, after six years as pastor of Mount Peter and all of her achievements at what had been a small inner city parish about to close its doors, her friends still didn’t understand the choice that she had made. Yet, they supported her, and for that, Nedra was grateful.

  “Well I still say, you need to be careful,” Carla warned. “These drug dealers don’t play. They don’t like people interfering with their business, and you’re doing it big time.”

  “Don’t worry,” Nedra grabbed a crunchy breadstick from the basket the waitress placed in t
he center of the table. “Nobody’s going to bother me.”

  “I know, I know,” Carla retorted, rolling her eyes skyward. “God’s on your side.”

  “You bet!” Grinning, Nedra nibbled the bread stick hungrily.

  “Well, tell him to come and help the rest of us down here a little.” Sharon sighed, slumping back in her chair. “I don’t think he’s been listening lately.”

  “What’s up?” Nedra’s voice was laced with concern. Sharon was usually so upbeat.

  “You know those two little boys I put in foster care a while ago?”

  Nedra looked at her blankly.

  “The ones that gorgeous hunk helped out. He came to you about them, and you called me.”

  Realization dawned. “Yes, Colin and Trevor Johnson.”

  “It looks like they’ll be in foster care even longer. Their mother was found dead this morning from an overdose.”

  “Oh, no!” Nedra remembered the two rail thin boys she had helped Sharon place with the Simpsons, an elderly couple in her parish who were registered as foster parents. After the initial placement, she’d had little contact with the boys other than seeing them at church with their foster parents, but they seemed to have adjusted to their new lives, but now this. “Have the boys been told?”

  “Yes, the Simpsons and their social worker told them. The worker said the oldest one never shed a tear, but the little one— She said it was heartbreaking.”

  “Poor babies,” Carla sympathized.

  “The Simpsons should have called me. I might have been able to help.”