Lace and Sin (Sinners Series Book 1)

by Aneta Quinn

  There on the dotted line of the page, is Carter’s dad – Thomas Monroe, and his signature. So after his sudden death it would mean that Carter is the sole successor and owner of the entire company, as well as Mikhalov’s.

  The guy in front of me must sense my weakness, because he grins wide and says, “Didn’t think you had it in you to kill me.”

  He lowers his hands and almost jumps at me. I instinctively pull the trigger, and the loud bang resonates through the empty and quiet room, momentarily freezing us to the spot. Jesus I just shot someone. Holy shit, I actually just shot someone.

  He practically falls into me, taking us both to the ground as he swears and fumbles for the gun in my hand. His weight crushes me and squeezes the air from my lungs. I grip the gun tighter as we struggle for the upper hand, and the gun goes off again, not sure whether that was my doing or his but suddenly my side is burning, like a fire has sparked from my insides.

  The gun clatters to the carpeted floor as he wraps his fingers around my throat, squeezing hard until I’m gasping for air.

  He presses his lips against my ear and whispers, “Go to hell you crazy bitch.”

  I growl and kick out as hard as I can, getting him right in the nuts. He gasps as I push him off me and fumble for the gun to my right. I pick it up as I jump to my feet, and don’t even think as I shoot again, getting him twice in the chest.

  He lays there motionless, eyes staring blankly at me as I stand there panting, breathless and shaking from the shock. My hands are trembling, my eyes are watering, and my side aches like I’ve just been dipped in gasoline and set on fire.

  With unsteady hands I squat down, scooping up the documents and rolling them together, before sliding them against the waistband of my jeans. My eyes never leaving the now pale face that’s staring up at me from the floor.

  I quickly side step around him, check the ammo in the gun and click the magazine back into place, as I make my way back under the vent. I hear the handle of the door rattling, as someone tries to break in to see what the gun shots were no doubt. I hike myself back up into the vent and start to drag myself along, side still aching.

  I pull my sweater up a little and groan, blood pooling around the wound on my side. I lower my now red stained sweater down and press firmly against the gunshot wound, trying to put pressure on it to stop the bleeding. Shit what have I done? I twist back onto my stomach and groan as the movement feels like I’m ripping my stomach open.

  Shit. Deep breaths, God this hurts like hell.

  I shakily get back onto my hands and knees as I make my way further, finally ending up above the hallway near the stairs. I pry the vent grill open and just lay there, breathing in an out continuously. Each breath shorter and more laboured as the time seems to pass by, while I try to gather enough strength to pull myself out of the vent.

  Come on Kayla, move. Just slide one leg, and then the other through the vent and drop to the hallway floor. Come on Kayla, you got this, just move.

  Shit, I don’t got this. Am I dying? Where’s my life flashback? Oh right, I didn’t really do anything exciting enough for a flashback. I try to create my own, so I think of the people I care about most, the people I love. I wonder if Alek is okay. I really hope they left him at our apartment, and that Carter and Jimmy helped him.

  And Carter, god I hope he doesn’t do anything stupid to try get me out of here, than again I’m not one to talk since I’m currently bleeding out in someone’s vents. Oh god this hurts like hell.

  After what feels like an eternity I wake up, realising I zoned out a little - the loud crack of gunshots automatically making me more alert.

  The vent is hanging open, but no one notices I’m there as they run underneath yelling orders. I notice armed officers wearing bulletproof vests make their way down the hallway, bursting through each door and firing back at anyone that shoots at them. The police are here?

  Am I dreaming? My eyes start to close over again as I hold my aching side. My palm covered in blood as I try to hold my burning side, try to keep my eyes open to no avail.

  Chapter 22

  Carter

  My plan was masterful, what I should have done from the beginning, or essentially the moment I watched the video my dad sent me on a hard-drive.

  The note attached to the hard-drive stated that my dad requested it to be sent to my address on a specific date, which was the day after he died. When I watched it I knew it would be what finished Mikhalov, I knew it would be what ends up saving all our lives. It’s like my dad knew that Mikhalov was coming there to kill him, so he set up a camera and filmed the whole thing, knowing it would end up in my hands eventually.

  I instructed Alek to take it down to the Feds, telling them that it was their ticket into Mikhalov’s manor, and their bargaining chip to get a warrant to search his house and arrest him. I guess being more of a criminal than a law abiding citizen, I didn’t want to go to them for help, which is stupid because I guess we could’ve avoided all this. Or Mikhalov would have killed us all for trying.

  The longer it takes me to drive to Abrams house, the more I curse myself for not doing this straight away. If I did this in the beginning he wouldn’t have taken Kayla. Alek is going to bring backup hopefully quickly, while Jimmy is tucked away in the backseat of the car. God this is insane, this better work.

  While I distract Mikhalov, Jimmy will go looking for Kayla to get her out. I’ll go in there, agree to whatever he wants and beg for him to let her go, or that’s the plan anyway. Sounds fucking ridiculous, I just hope to god she’s fucking okay.

  As soon as the guard sees me, he opens the iron gates and lets me continue driving, winding my way down Mikhalov’s long gravelled driveway. The stones crunching beneath the tyres as I drive further up and closer to the garage.

  As soon as I park and hop out the car, two guards are yanking my arms behind my back, and pushing me up the steps to get inside the house. There are guards running around inside in a blur of confusion and anger, talking into their walkie in Russian so I can’t understand them.

  One stands on a chair and sticks his head into the vent above him, turning all the way around and coming back out, “Not here” he says, or so I think anyway since my Russian’s a little rusty.

  “What’s going on?” I ask one of the guys yanking my arm, as he leads me up the giant stairs.

  “Your girl escape in vents” he says gruffly, and the other guy smacks him upside the head. He curses and they start arguing in Russian. I feel myself grinning with pride, just as Mikhalov steps out of one of the rooms, his shirt sleeves rolled up and his hands covered in blood.

  He points at me and jerks his chin towards the room behind him. The two guys push me through the doorway behind Mikhalov, and I sigh with relief when I see the dead guy sprawled out on the floor. Thank Christ it’s not Kayla’s blood on his hands.

  He leans against the desk, and crosses his arms in front of his chest. He nods once, and the guys push my shoulders down so I sit in the chair across from him.

  “Did you send her to get me?” he questions, and to be honest I have no idea what he means. I shrug in response.

  “Who is she?” he keeps interrogating, “no normal woman would take down two of my biggest men while trying to evade capture, break out of handcuffs in less than two minutes, and then kill one of my strongest men.”

  I grin wide, “You underestimate people’s hatred for you, Abram. You really wanna know?”

  “Why would I ask if I didn’t?” he grunts, and then swears in Russian as he runs a hand through his greying hair restlessly.

  “Does the name Deminski mean anything to you?”

  He blinks, momentarily confused, before recognition crosses his face followed by anger.

  “I guess you’re the one to thank for making her this strong. You killed her parents and she’s wanted you dead ever since. Actually, I’m surprised she hasn’t done it already” I say trying to irritate him for god knows what reason.

  I hear a s
mall noise from the air vents, and look up to see Jimmy pulling himself down. I take action quickly and stand, elbowing one of the guys next to me straight in the face, as Jimmy jumps down and wraps his arms around Mikhalov’s neck. If Jimmy’s here, then where’s Kayla?

  The other guy spins towards me as he pulls his gun from his side, but I manage to grab the other guard’s gun as he drops to the ground with a bloody nose.

  We stand there momentarily eyeing each other, guns held high and aimed at one another. Jimmy and Mikhalov throw punches, scuffling around and grunting as the other lands a hit. Papers scatter across the floor as they push against the solid desk, and the lamp falls to the floor with a soft thud on the carpet. This isn’t Jimmy’s fight, he shouldn’t be getting hurt.

  The guy with the broken nose starts mumbling something, so I quickly knock him out with the back of the gun. The other guy takes that opportunity and shoots, missing thankfully, as I duck behind the back of the couch. I shoot in his direction, grazing his shoulder, just as there are gunshots outside the room. There’s yelling as the door bursts open, and a few armed officers run in, guns held high.

  “Drop the gun now” one of them yells, and stupidly Mikhalov’s guard shoots blindly at them, hitting one in the chest who is luckily wearing a vest. He groans and drops to the ground from the impact.

  It’s utter chaos, as Jimmy and Mikhalov continue fighting behind me, and the officers shoot back at the guard. They get him right in the chest, and I watch as he drops to the floor. I quickly turn to Jimmy to make sure he’s alright, and watch as he throws a punch to Mikhalov’s face, towering over him on the floor. He drops his hold on Abrams shirt and grins as he falls back limp and unconscious.

  We did it. Well I mean he isn’t dead, but I guess him going to jail is just as good, right? Where he’ll rot away for the rest of his life in a cell the size of a shoe box, compared to this luxurious manor.

  One officer checks the pulse of both guards, and the other rolls Mikhalov onto his front before he starts to put him in cuffs. We stand there watching, not sure what we’re supposed to do. Jimmy nudges his chin towards the door and I nod back at him, knowing we have to find Kayla.

  We race through the hallways filled with officers, calling her name, until one stops me to ask what we’re doing. I hurriedly explain to them that she’s in the vents somewhere, and since we haven’t found her yet I’m guessing she’s hurt, it’s freaking me the fuck out.

  “Over here” Jimmy yells, reaching up into one of the open vents, and pulls on her arm to slide her out from her hiding spot.

  She’s barely conscious as Jimmy gently passes her to me, covered in blood. My breathing is rapid as I look her over, chest rising and falling with each of my breaths. What the fuck happened to her?

  “Kay…can you hear me?” I ask, as I start to carry her down the stairs and out of the house. She looks like she’s moment from death, face pale, hair sticking to her face from the light sheen of sweat. Fuck, this isn’t happening, this can’t be happening right now.

  Her eyes open weakly, as she stares up at my face with her big brown eyes, mascara smeared lightly underneath, “You look good …coming in on your white horse, Romeo.”

  It takes me a moment to realise she’s saying I’m her white knight, which just pisses me off. I growl, a little frustrated because I didn’t help her at all, she wouldn’t have been in this situation if it wasn’t for me. Her eyes close over softly again and her hold around my neck weakens.

  “Baby, stay with me, Kay I’m getting you some help. Just hold on a little longer for me, okay?”

  She doesn’t respond for a moment, and it’s killing me to see her like this. I hike her up a little closer against my chest and her eyes open again, “Did we get him?”

  “Yeah babe, we got him, he’s going away for a very long time.”

  “So’s not dead...is that revenge enough? “ she says, her words slurring as her head lolls to the side a little.

  “Hey, Hey…keep talking to me, stay awake for me Kay, you hear me?”

  She doesn’t answer, her eyes staying closed as her hold on me weakens even further. I can see the emergency crew just outside the iron gates as I make my way down the driveway. Swat trucks and different officers running around beside me and putting cuffed men into the back of their cars.

  “Vengeance or love?” I ask Kayla, and wait for a response as I try to pick up my pace to get to help. No answer.

  “Don’t do this to me Kay, please” I beg to god knows who, “Not now, you hear me? Fuck! Don’t do this Kayla.”

  Jimmy catches up behind me and see’s the lifeless Kayla in my arms.

  “I’ll get help” he says and sprints the rest of the way down the driveway to the emergency crew, since it’s easier without carrying someone in his arms. I drop to my knees as the panic washes over me, and I brush some hair out of her face as I hold her motionless body in my arms.

  “Kayla…wake up, please, baby” I run a blood smeared hand through my hair, “I fucking love you…you hear me? I love you so goddamn much, please just wake up for me” I plead with her, praying she can hear me, hoping to god, to anyone in fact that she’ll be okay.

  I run my fingers through her tangled hair, and then swipe a thumb across her cheek and her motionless lips.

  Two medics run over and start to take her out of my arms. They pull her sweater up and I almost lose it when I see the blood across her stomach from the gunshot wound. They start to work on her, patching her up, giving her CPR, doing god knows what to get the life back into her.

  I stay there on my knees, watching the life slip away from her, watching the only person that’s managed to make me fall in love with them leave me behind.

  Everything around me feels like it’s slowed down, the officer’s running back and forth, and the medics working in front of me to save what’s left of the one person I would trade my life for.

  Chapter 23

  Kayla

  They say when something traumatic happens in your life, you realise what you’ve taken for granted in the past.

  Me? I know everything I’ve done wrong. I know that I shouldn’t have been so reserved. I know I should have loved more, and enjoyed those moments in life. Being more grateful to my Uncle for giving me the life I had, teaching me the things I know, and being the saviour to the young and hurt girl that turned up on his doorstep all those years ago.

  Before Carter, my life was a washed out black and white, no grey in between existence. No time spent enjoying little things like a fish named Romeo, or cartoons as a child. No time spent telling the people I cared for how much they mean to me. Alek and Uncle Johnny were the only ones I had left up until Carter pushed his way in, a streak of bright red right through the centre of my black and white.

  I should have told him I loved him, told him he meant just as much to me after several months as those that have been by my side since the beginning.

  There’s a slight tugging sensation at my side, and then it’s gone before I can even begin to worry about it or wonder what it is.

  I struggle to open my eyes, and when I finally manage I see Carter lying uncomfortably on the spare seat next to the bed, my mind registering that I’m in a hospital. God, how I hate hospitals. His long legs are stretched out in front of him, as his muscly frame is slumped low in the seat, allowing him to rest his head against the top of chair.

  He looks gorgeous - his dark hair messy, the stubble I love on him, and his perfect lips falling open slightly with each breath as he sleeps restlessly.

  Before I can speak or survey the room further, my eyes feel heavy again as they shut involuntarily.

  Chapter 24

  Carter

  Two days, two miserable days of my life that I’ve spent pacing back and forth in the hospital hallways while they dug the bullet out. Two days I spent reliving what happened when the officers asked me for details. And two days since I’ve seen those pretty eyes of hers stare back at me.

  I gently carry her th
rough the front door of my apartment and head straight for the bedroom, Alek and Jimmy tailing behind me like lost puppies.

  They agreed to let us take her home, provided we had a medical expert stop by regularly to check on her. I just wanted to get out of the busy hospital and have her comfortable in my king size bed, hopefully with me by her side taking care of her. She’s been on seriously strong medication for the pain, so she’s been in and out of consciousness regularly now, mumbling something here and there occasionally. Not sure if she’ll remember anything.

  I slide her under the covers, and grab a glass of water and the pills from her bag, placing them on the bedside table. The three of us staring down at her like some weirdos, so I usher them out of the room to let her sleep more.