Sin (Sinclair O'Malley Book 1)

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Sin (Sinclair O'Malley Book 1) Page 7

by J. M. LeDuc


  “Yeah well, I remember how much you used to boast about your barbequing skills. It’s time to prove it.”

  As she turned to walk back inside, she felt his eyes following her. She turned her head and glanced at him. “Stop undressing me with your eyes and start cooking.”

  He laughed. “You do look good.”

  She turned and walked into the house. “Damn right, I do.”

  “That’s an understatement,” he mumbled.

  “I heard that,” she said.

  Thirty minutes later, the three of them sat at the picnic table on the porch to eat. Sin was about to take a big bite of her burger when her father cleared his throat.

  “A lot has changed since you’ve been gone,” he said, “but, we still say grace before eating. That hasn’t changed.”

  He spread his arms out to his side and had them hold hands as he offered a prayer of thanks.

  After lunch, her father looked exhausted.

  “Dad, why don’t you go rest while Troy and I clean up.”

  He was slow to stand. Weaker than he was earlier. “I think I will,” he sighed. “That will give the two of you a chance to catch up.”

  Troy stood and helped her father up the stairs to his room.

  Sin watched as he walked by her father’s side. She noticed his genuine concern for her dad. Maybe people can change, she thought.

  CHAPTER 12

  Troy joined Sin on the porch after he helped her dad to his room. He saw her watching the fishing fleet with her binoculars.

  “See anything interesting,” he said.

  “Lots,” she responded.

  “Such as?”

  Sin pointed to the fishing fleet. “I’m amazed at the amount of boats in the water off of the island. What’s your take on the Tumbleboat Fishing Company and Heap’s involvement?”

  Troy cracked open another beer and handed one to Sin. “You don’t mess around, do you?”

  “A product of military life, I guess.”

  He waited for her to say more, but she put the bottle to her lips, drank, and stared at him.

  “I haven’t been back here that long myself, but from what I’ve witnessed and from what everyone tells me, Heap is the primary owner of the company. You either abide by their charter or you don’t sell your catch.”

  “And this is legal?”

  Troy took another swig. “Afraid so,” he said.

  Sin squinted and cocked her head to the side. “They get paid that well that they would sign away their independence? That doesn’t sound like the men I knew.”

  “That’s where it gets a little fuzzy,” Troy answered. He joined her at the porch railing and leaned forward.

  He noticed her gaze trail down to the tattoo on his right bicep—an orange and green U, the University of Miami insignia.

  Troy overlooked it and kept talking. “When they first signed, they were being paid exorbitant prices. Over the past year, the price of their catch has steadily diminished.”

  “And nobody has said anything?”

  He looked in her direction, eyes squinting to keep the afternoon sun out. “They’re scared shitless, Sin.”

  She was leaning over the rail which further emphasized her curves. Her hair was hanging free, partly covering her face.

  “Damn, you look good.”

  “Back off, Romeo and keep talking. That bullshit line would probably work on the rest of the women in the Keys, but you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

  The right side of Troy’s lips curled up into a sly smile as he brought the bottle to his lips. “They figure some money is better than none.”

  “There has to be more to it than that.”

  “Joe Rattle, you remember him?”

  Sin nodded.

  “He said he wasn’t going to take being used and opted out of his agreement.”

  “It’s nice to know someone still has a pair around here,” Sin interrupted.

  “Yeah, well his pair cost him his boat and his house,” Troy said. “Word is he cut a deal with The Blue Oyster to privately sell his catch. Two weeks later the place burnt down from a grease fire.”

  Sin looked back toward the boats. “Damn.”

  “After that, no one would touch his catch. He ended up leaving and went to live with his daughter up in Tampa. No one has complained since then.”

  “I don’t get it. As much as I hated this place, I remember these people as being levelheaded. How could they let someone like Heap take control of their lives?”

  “That’s just it,” Troy emphasized. “They don’t think it’s Heap. They think it’s God.”

  Troy’s words hit Sin hard. She stood ramrod straight and stared at him. “Come again. God?”

  “Everyone in Tumbleboat believes that Heap is a prophet.”

  Sin wiped her windblown hair from her eyes. “You’ve got to be fuckin’ with me?”

  “Nope, and it’s just not the people on Tumbleboat. Hell, half of the citizens in the Lower Keys are members of his church.”

  Sin’s eyes opened wide. “I would love to get a look at this church of his.”

  Troy guzzled the rest of his bottle. “Finish that beer and I’ll show you Heap’s pride and joy.”

  “The Church of the New Son.”

  Troy placed his sunglasses on his head, drowning out the twinkle in his eyes. “That would be the one,” he said.

  Outside, Sin went to straddle her bike. Troy squeezed her shoulder. “Let’s take mine.”

  “Why?”

  “Word on the street says that Heap hasn’t exactly warmed up to your ‘charms,’ and Bubba is the security guard at the entrance gate. We have a lot better chance getting on the grounds if we show up on my bike together.”

  Sin wasn’t happy, but she agreed.

  As Troy started his Harley, Sin made herself comfortable on the back.

  Troy turned his head toward her and smirked. “Feel free to get real close if you want.”

  Sin slapped his helmet. “Kiss my ass and drive.”

  Troy laughed as he twisted the throttle and gunned his bike.

  Within twenty minutes, Sin had subconsciously laid her head on his shoulder. It wasn’t until a carload of teenagers whistled at them at a stop light that she was even aware of her position. Embarrassed and a little mad at herself, she gave them the finger and sat up straight.

  She tightened her grip on Troy’s waist when she realized they were nearing the cemetery where her mother was buried.

  One block past the cemetery entrance, they pulled off the road onto a shell-rock side street. Troy shut the bike off and removed his sunglasses.

  He nodded his head at the ornate, gaudy building ahead of them. “That is the Church of the New Son.”

  Sin finger combed and shook out her hair. “Damn,” she said, “it’s huge.” She paused for a moment to think. “This doesn’t make sense.”

  “What doesn’t make sense?”

  Sin swung her leg off the saddle and stretched her spine. “That monstrosity must hold at least ten-thousand people. There is no way he has that many people attend his church.”

  Troy smirked. “You’re as smart as you are sexy.”

  Sin rolled her eyes. “Keep it in your pants and get me inside.”

  Troy silently laughed. “I have one demand before we go any further.”

  Sin’s hip jutted to the side at the tone of his words. She crossed her arms and scrunched up her lips. “And that would be?”

  “You need to keep the attitude in check. Let me do the talking.”

  Sin huffed. “Fine, let’s go.”

  Five minutes later, they pulled up to a set of gold rod iron gates, which had a shield welded onto them with the letters P and H embossed in gold.

  “Subtle,” Sin’s words dripped sarcasm.
>
  She quickly surveyed the area. Security cameras and motion detectors every fifty-feet, she thought. There is a guard posted here and another posted at the church entrance and on the roof. Those I can see are all armed. What the fuck is going on in there?

  While she was getting a lay of the land, the door of the security booth opened and Bubba stepped out. “Well, well, well,” he said, “it looks like Troy’s been fishin’,” he scrunched his bulbous, red nose, “and it smells like he caught himself a rotten tuna.”

  Sin’s muscles contracted.

  She felt Troy’s posture stiffen as she tightened her grip on his waist. He reached back and squeezed her thigh—hard.

  “I brought Sergeant O’Malley here because she asked to see the church.”

  As Troy continued to talk to Bubba, Sin’s senses were tingling. Her instincts told her that someone else was watching. That’s when she noticed the red light flashing on the control panel inside the security booth.

  “The church is closed today,” Bubba said. “Sorry ‘bout yer luck.” He pulled a toothpick out of his jean’s pocket and flipped it in his mouth.

  Troy was about to respond when Sin opened her mouth. “Why don’t we let Prophet Heap decide whether his church is open or not.”

  Bubba smirked. “ ‘Fraid he ain’t here.”

  Sin ignored his response. “Is that correct, Prophet? You’re not on the premises?”

  She caught Troy looking at her like she was nuts—until the prophet’s voice came from the speaker.

  “It would be my pleasure to show the sergeant around God’s house,” he drawled. “Please let the deputy and the sergeant through.”

  Bubba flipped the toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other and back again. With each flip, his face became a darker shade of red. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that his rage was increasing with his hue. He grabbed a visitor’s pass from the counter and slammed it into Troy’s hand. Bubba leaned close to Sin, pulled the toothpick from his mouth, and pointed the chewed end at her. “You embarrass me again and I’ll . . .”

  Sin leaned into him and sneered. “You don’t need any help from me. You are an embarrassment to the human race.”

  Troy gunned the bike as soon as the opening in the gate was wide enough. “Nice,” he said. “I asked you to do one thing, just one, and you couldn’t even do that.”

  Sin just smirked as the bike lunged forward.

  The guard at the entrance was another ‘punk’ from Sin’s adolescence—Ronald Shell. Dirty looks were exchanged as he led the duo into the church.

  “Prophet Heap directed me to escort you to his outer office until he finishes his meeting.”

  Sin’s eyes and mind were in overdrive. She couldn’t wait to get a tour of this place.

  Sin flipped through magazines and continuously glanced at her watch. Patience was not one of her virtues. She stuck her wrist under Troy’s nose. “It’s been thirty minutes,” she mouthed. “Who the hell does he think he is?”

  As Troy was about to answer, Heap and another man emerged from his office.

  Prophet Heap’s smile was almost as big as his ego. “You remember Police Chief Miller, don’t you, Sergeant?” he asked.

  Ezekiel Miller stood next to Heap, painted a pasty smile on his face, puffed out his chest, and attempted to pull his trousers past his ever-expanding waistline.

  Sin took a final glance at her watch and arched her eyebrow. “I remember Patrolman Miller.” Condescension bled through her words. “Congratulations on your promotions.”

  Miller’s face scrunched, turning sour. He stepped forward and belly bumped Sin.

  The smell of stale liquor and tobacco permeated her personal space. Sin put her hands up in mock surrender and glanced at his enormous girth. “Whoa, Chief. We don’t want that thing to explode.”

  He flipped a toothpick into his mouth.

  Like father like son, Sin thought.

  “You’ll find I’m not so easy to whoop as my boy, O’Malley,” he hissed, “so don’t try me.”

  Sin’s expression didn’t change. “I’m not here to make enemies, Miller.”

  His thick tongue protruded from his trout-like lips and flicked the toothpick into the corner of his mouth. “Too late,” he snarled. “I’ll be watchin’ you.”

  Sin stood her ground. “Back atcha.”

  The chief tipped his hat at Troy and appeared to almost bow towards the prophet. “I will see you both Tuesday night.”

  He stepped forward and shoulder bumped Sin. She could tell he expected her to lose her balance, and she saw goose bumps flood his flesh when he became misdirected from their collision.

  Sin followed him out with her eyes. Turning back towards the others, she saw Heap shaking his head.

  “You do have a way with people,” Heap laughed. “Follow me and I will give you the grand tour.”

  An hour later, the three of them were back where they started.

  Heap pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the sweat from his brow. “Well, Sergeant, I hope this has inspired you to attend services on Sunday.”

  Sin quickly changed the subject. “The church is very impressive, Prophet. How large did you say the facility was?”

  Heap wiped his brow again. “I don’t recall saying, but the entire building is twenty-thousand-square-feet and we have plans to erect two adjacent buildings.”

  Sin’s mind was racing. From her peripheral vision, she saw Troy start to fidget.

  He gestured to the clock on the wall. “I hate to break up this conversation, but I just realized the time. I am on duty in an hour. Do you mind if we rush out, Prophet Heap?”

  “Not at all, Deputy. I am late for a meeting, also.”

  “Thank you for your hospitality,” Troy answered. “Sergeant O’Malley—ready?”

  CHAPTER 13

  Sin was deep in thought the entire ride back home. She knew the dimensions of the sanctuary and the other rooms inside the church didn’t add up to the total square footage. She was also thinking about Ezekiel Miller’s remarks. What meeting would Troy be attending with both Miller and Heap. The more she reflected, the angrier she became.

  When they arrived back in Tumbleboat, her words and disposition were curt as she thanked Troy for taking her to the church.

  He grabbed her arm as she began to walk away. “What happened to the girl that rode with me on the way to the church?” he asked.

  Sin jerked her arm from his grasp. “She was fooled by your charm, but don’t worry. It won’t happen again.”

  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

  Sin stepped toward Troy. “You say you’ve changed, but you haven’t. You are still the same piece of shit you were back in high school.”

  Troy threw his arms up. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about Miller saying that he was going to see you at a meeting on Tuesday. If you are against Heap and his cronies, why are you attending a meeting with them?”

  Troy shook his head and straddled his bike. “You need to learn to give people the benefit of the doubt. Instead of jumping to conclusions, why didn’t you just ask?”

  Sin leaned against her bike and crossed her ankles. “I’m listening.”

  Troy started his Harley and shifted into first gear. “I’m late for work. Lose the attitude, put on a dress, and I will pick you up for dinner at eight.”

  He gunned the throttle, fishtailing out of the shell-rock drive.

  Dinner? Sin smirked. Some guys just like to be punished.

  After checking on her dad, she left Carmelita a note and left to take care of some things of her own.

  Sin always thought best when there were noise and people around. Without even thinking where she was going, she pulled her bike into the Lower Keys Saloon. She eyed the parking lot a
nd not seeing any of her ‘buddies’ vehicles, she ventured inside to quench her thirst and think.

  A while later, the bar started to fill up with locals and Sin thought it best to leave before she was the cause of any more trouble. Thirst quenched and notes written, Sin left with a plan. Not much of one, but it was better than nothing.

  Walking outside in the late day sun, she slid her mirror-lensed sunglasses down onto her eyes, straddled her bike, and made a quick phone call before kick-starting her Harley.

  CHAPTER 14

  Sin pulled up to the Navy base in Key West. She was checked through by the MP and given directions to the base commander’s office.

  “I appreciate your assistance, Captain,” she said.

  Captain Jackson rolled the cigar from one side of his mouth to the other, finished signing an acquisition order, and nodded. “It’s the least I can do for an American hero,” he said, stogie clenched between his teeth.

  “I’m just a soldier doing my job like everyone else, Sir.”

  “Modest, I like that,” he said handing her the paper. A quizzical look painted his expression as he placed the well-chewed cigar in the crystal ashtray. “Tell me, Sergeant, are you sure this gear is for recreational purposes?”

  Sin, straight faced—without a glint of a tell—answered, “I’m on leave, Captain. I just figured I would get a little recreational diving in during my down time.”

  Captain Jackson emitted a belly laugh. “Get out of here, O’Malley before I change my mind.”

  Sin saluted the colonel and left to fill the requisition order.

  She handed the corporal manning the equipment locker a piece of paper. “Would you mind sending this equipment to my residence?”

  He looked at the requisition and then at Sin. “I’ll send it to Sixteen Hundred Pennsylvania Avenue if you want, Ma’am.”

  Sin smiled. “I don’t think there is much need for SCUBA equipment in D.C. Maybe next time.”

  Papers and manifests signed, she headed back to Tumbleboat to talk to Carmelita before getting ready for dinner.

 

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