Mortal Sin

by Allison Brennan

  Her stomach twisted and her skin flushed. She swayed on her feet and put her hand on the doorjamb to steady herself. Her hands were red from the cold. She’d left her gloves back on the dining-room table. That oversight made her pause as she stared at her shaking hands.

  The door opened and she righted herself, not wanting Patrick to see her in such a sorry state.

  It wasn’t Patrick who opened the door.

  “Sean.”

  Sean Rogan smiled with half his mouth, revealing his dimples. Lucy had wondered, from the time she’d first met Patrick’s business partner, if he’d perfected the impish, boyish charm in front of a mirror. “You sound disappointed. Aren’t you happy to see me?”

  “No, I just—yeah. Sorry. Is Patrick here?” Her voice sounded panicked. Damn, she had to get her emotions together. She didn’t want to fall apart in front of Sean. She barely knew him.

  She didn’t want to fall apart at all.

  In a blink, Sean’s entire demeanor changed from casual flirt to serious business.

  “I thought you knew he left for California this morning.”

  How could she have forgotten? There was no one else, no one she trusted who knew her whole story. Where would she go now? The only option was back home.

  “Lucy, you’re shaking.” Sean took her arm and pulled her inside, shutting the door behind her.

  She tried to apologize for disturbing him, but no words came out. Her cheeks burned in the warmth of the house, reminding her how cold she was.

  “You’re frozen.”

  She tried to unbutton her coat, but her fingers were stiff and numb. Sean reached over and quickly undid the buttons and slid the wet wool coat off her arms, tossing it on the coat rack by the door.

  He frowned when he saw her red hands, and took them both into his. He was dressed in just jeans and a white polo shirt, but his body was a virtual furnace. The heat from his hands felt both wonderful and painful as her skin thawed. He brought her hands to his mouth and blew hot air on them, his black hair—longer on top—falling across one eye. He said, “I’m so sorry, Luce, I must not have heard the bell the first time.”

  “I only rang once. I walked here.”

  “Walked?”

  “It wasn’t far.”

  “From Kate and Dillon’s place? That’s half a mile and you’re not properly dressed.” His bright blue eyes assessed her as his hands rubbed her arms. “What happened? Are you okay?”

  “I’m—” Her mouth quivered. No no no no no! She didn’t want to cry in front of Sean Rogan, not him, not her brother’s partner. Not in front of anyone. She should have gone to her room. Why had she come here anyway?

  You forgot Patrick was gone.

  “I have to go,” she said.

  Sean ignored that statement and led her down the wide hall to the back of the house, where a fire raged in a brick fireplace that took up half of one wall. He seated her on the large hearth. “This should warm you up.”

  Unable to speak, she nodded, averting her eyes. The fire was too hot, but she sat and stared at the flames, willing herself not to cry.

  Please, God, don’t let me break down now.

  Sean moved away, and Lucy breathed easier. She’d get her emotions together, find a way to lock the past back where it belonged, and phone for a taxi.

  She had so desperately wanted to talk to Patrick. Maybe that was the answer—fly to California.

  Right. Leave her job, her volunteer work, miss the WCF fund-raiser on Saturday. Fran would be disappointed. Lucy didn’t run away from anything. She hadn’t run six years ago even when she longed to disappear, and she wasn’t about to do it now. And what for? She wasn’t in danger, only hollowed out from the lies told by her family. She had no energy tonight, but tomorrow she would regain her strength.

  She glanced into the kitchen, where Sean had his back to her, thankful he’d given her some space. She didn’t want to make small talk with him, no matter how nice he was to look at, nor did she want to explain why she’d walked through what might turn into a blizzard to visit the brother who she’d forgotten was working three thousand miles away.

  Lucy rubbed her hands together in front of the fireplace and tried not to think about what Sean must think of her lunacy. The last hour, from the minute she walked into her house and saw those two FBI agents talking to Kate, had drained her and she couldn’t stop shaking.

  Sean brought two mugs to the fireplace and handed one to her. “This will warm up the inside.”

  “What is it?” She looked inside. Teeny marshmallows were floating on top. “Hot chocolate?”

  “When Patrick took us to dinner last month, I remembered how much you loved the chocolate mousse for dessert. This isn’t as rich or tasty, but I hope it’ll do in a pinch.”

  Tears rolled down her cheeks and she squeezed her eyes shut. Her hands shook, and Sean took the mug from her hands and placed it on the hearth, next to his. “Lucy—” He put his arms around her and she leaned into him. The more she fought the tears, the more her body shook.

  “Let it out.” Sean smoothed her hair back. “It’s okay, Lucy, you’re safe here.”

  Safe. He knew. Why was she surprised? It wasn’t a secret; she just didn’t talk about it. But he worked with Patrick; of course he’d know about her past. It wasn’t a big secret, just not discussed.

  Would she ever be able to escape her past? Six long years and it had followed her to D.C., to her new life.

  Followed? No, that wasn’t right. Her past was as much a part of her identity as her future. She couldn’t escape it, because what had happened six years ago had molded and shaped every decision she’d made since, the big and the small, whether she realized it or not.

  A sob that sounded nothing like her vibrated in her chest and Sean pulled her closer. “I—” she began, then stopped. She took several breaths, rubbed her eyes with her right hand, swallowed the apology that automatically sprang to her lips. She was stunned that she didn’t feel embarrassment for crying in front of Sean. It was not as if she knew him all that well. But maybe, somehow, that was better. Her family would be pained; they would tell her everything was going to be okay. And in her head, she knew that she would get through this, that she would find a way to forgive Kate and Dillon, because that is what family did. They forgave.

  But not tonight, and maybe not tomorrow, because right now, things were not okay. She felt as though her heart had been ripped out of her chest, the heart that trusted her family to protect it.

  “Lucy, I’m right here if you want to talk. But you don’t have to,” Sean said.

  She nodded against his chest and closed her eyes. Now that the tears had stopped, she focused on breathing normally. Sean smelled like soap, an unfamiliar brand, mixed with maybe a hint of aftershave.

  Suddenly and acutely, Lucy became aware that Sean Rogan was not her brother. Why didn’t she feel awkward being held by a handsome stranger? He wasn’t really a stranger—she’d been over here many times since Patrick moved to D.C. from California—but somehow, this felt more intimate. More personal. A man she had barely admitted, even to herself, that she was attracted to.

  Something shifted inside, and she slowly pulled away from Sean, feeling much colder. Right now she couldn’t deal with everything she’d learned tonight plus the feelings that had been developing since she’d first met Sean. One thing at a time.

  She sipped her hot chocolate, appreciating having something to hold in her hands. “I’m better.”

  “Good.” He picked up his mug and drank. “Lukewarm.”

  “It’s delicious,” she said. “Do you mind if I stay for a little while? I won’t get in your way. I just don’t want to go home right now.”

  He cocked his head, then said, “Mi casa es su casa.”

  Sean watched Lucy closely, weighing his options. He wanted to push her into telling him what had chased her from her house into the storm, what had happened to make her more upset than he’d ever seen her. But if Sean knew anything, it w
as how to read people. Lucy would talk when she was ready, but if he pushed her she’d close up. He could afford to be patient because he had no doubt that she would open up to him.

  He sipped his tepid chocolate more to encourage Lucy to drink something warm than because he wanted it. He followed her eyes as she looked around the large, remodeled great room.

  “I really like what you guys did here,” she said. “You opened up this room, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah—we took down that makeshift wall that separated the sunroom from the family room and reinforced the roof.”

  She smiled. “It’s comfortable. And now you can enjoy this incredible fireplace from the kitchen, too.”

  If she wanted small talk, that was fine with Sean—whatever worked to make her comfortable. He walked her around and showed her some of the smaller changes he had made to the space, her honest praise making him admire the room with new eyes.

  The bell rang twice and Sean frowned. He’d almost gotten Lucy to relax, and now the interruption had her tense again.

  “Stay put,” he said, absently rubbing her arm. He glanced at her as he left the room. Except for the circles under her eyes, she masked her emotions well.

  He ran a hand through his hair as he strode to the front door and glanced through the peephole. A slender blonde in a black trench coat and scarf stood shivering on the doorstep.

  Kate Donovan?

  He’d met Kate only once, when she and Dillon invited him to their house for dinner last month right after he and Patrick opened RCK East. The only thing that would bring anyone out on a night like this was an emergency. And by Lucy’s distress, she was the emergency.

  “I’d say I was surprised,” Sean began as he opened the door.

  “Lucy’s here then?” She stepped in and in a low voice said, “I remembered Patrick was gone right after she left and I had to get rid of the agents.”

  “Agents?” he asked.

  “She didn’t tell you?” Kate straightened and clammed up. “I need to talk to Lucy.”

  “If she wants.” The only thing Sean knew about whatever had upset Lucy was that she didn’t want to go home, and now there were FBI agents involved?

  Lucy’s dream of becoming an FBI agent was well known, but Sean couldn’t imagine that if she were turned down she’d be violently upset to the point that she’d leave her house in the snow without gloves and walk half a mile. Or that she’d be shaking so hard he expected her to shatter. Anger, he could see. Maybe even tears. But not the physical pain he’d seen on her face when he’d brought her into his house.

  Kate glared at Sean. “Excuse me, Sean, but this really isn’t your business.”

  “Lucy made it my business when she landed on my doorstep.”

  “To see Patrick, not you.”

  “What’s your problem?”

  “I don’t have a problem, Sean, I’m just trying to protect my sister.”

  Sean hadn’t heard Lucy walk down the hall, until she said, “Protect me?”

  Kate walked over to her. “I am so sorry, Lucy, about everything, but you can’t—”

  Lucy was shaking her head the minute Kate started speaking and interrupted her. “Don’t tell me what I can’t do, not now.”

  “You’re not speaking to Noah Armstrong without a representative. I’ll go with you—”

  “No.” Lucy turned abruptly and stormed back to the family room. Kate followed, Sean right behind her. Lucy stood with her back to them, facing the fireplace.

  Kate said to Sean, “Sean, tell her she can’t talk to the FBI without a lawyer or someone to look out for her interests!”

  Sean raised an eyebrow. “You just said this wasn’t any of my business.”

  “Dammit, this isn’t a joke!”

  Lucy turned around and confronted Kate. “Damn straight it isn’t a joke. You lied to me. You had plenty of opportunities to tell me about the plea agreement and you didn’t. You didn’t even tell me Morton was released from prison!”

  “I said I’m sorry, and I am, but—”

  “But?” Lucy shook her head. “But you were only trying to protect me? Ignorance is not protection!”

  Morton. Sean froze, working double time to keep his anger from showing. He knew exactly who Roger Morton was. He knew all about Lucy’s kidnapping and rape the day of her high school graduation.

  “He’s out of prison?” Sean asked.

  Kate put her hand up to silence him, and he was getting irritated. “Sean—”

  “With all due respect, Kate, security is my specialty.”

  Lucy said, “Morton is dead. He’s been out of prison for six months and no one told me!” She pointed a finger at Kate. “I had a right to know. He was here!”

  Sean had a hundred questions, but now wasn’t the time. He crossed the family room and stood next to Lucy. “Lucy, you can stay here as long as you need.”

  Kate said, “That’s not the issue. Sean, you know she can’t talk to the FBI without a lawyer.”

  “Why does the FBI want to talk to her?”

  “Morton was killed in the marina right across the Potomac,” Kate said. “I had to answer their questions as well, considering my history with that bastard. I drove down with Dillon to Richmond last Friday, then flew back Sunday night, and Dillon has been at Petersburg all week. We’re clear as soon as Noah verifies our alibis.”

  Lucy gasped. “They don’t think I killed him!”

  “I doubt it, you were pretty convincing that you didn’t know he was out of prison, but Lucy, I know how the system works. Why answer questions you shouldn’t have to answer when it has nothing to do with the murder? They’re just going to pump you for information, and you don’t know anything that can help.”

  “Stop,” Lucy said. “Just stop trying to shield me. You know something, Kate? I can see why Dillon would keep the truth from me. And the rest of my family, for that matter. I don’t think any of them have truly, deep down, stopped thinking of me as a victim.”

  “That’s not true—”

  “But,” Lucy interrupted, “you?” She shook her head. “I expected more from you. Of all people, you didn’t coddle me. You supported my career choices; you took me to the gun range and taught me everything you knew. You’ve always been straight with me. At least, that’s what I thought. Now I don’t know what to think. How many other times you lied to me. Kept information from me. Justified it … how? All I can come up with is that you thought I would fall apart. When it really mattered, you thought I’d break.”

  “No—”

  “Then why not tell me?”

  Kate didn’t answer. Sean put a hand on Lucy’s back. She was vibrating with her anger.

  “Why, dammit?” Lucy demanded.

  Kate had tears in her eyes. “I didn’t want you to know how we all fucked up! No one should have agreed to those terms, but we were desperate. We were running out of time, and that bastard knew it. We made a huge mistake, but I don’t know that we could have done it any differently. If we hadn’t gotten the information when we did, Adam Scott might have succeeded in his plan to kill Dillon and grab you again. I don’t know. It’s easy to second-guess, but I’ll tell you something: Dillon didn’t know about the plea agreement until after the fact. Don’t hold it against him. It’ll tear him apart.”

  Tears streamed down Lucy’s face, and Sean put his arm around her to steady her. She leaned against him. “But you still told Dillon, right? He knew?”

  Kate nodded.

  Lucy shook her head and half walked, half ran from the room. Kate brushed her own tears from her eyes and glared at Sean. What had he done to warrant her wrath? He was on Lucy’s side.

  “I’ll make sure she gets home safely,” he told Kate.

  “I need to explain—”

  “Not now. Give her some space, okay?”

  Kate rubbed her temples with all her fingers and nodded.

  “Tell me what happened.”

  “That bastard was supposed to stay in Colorado. He came to
D.C. last week and ended up with a bullet in the back of the head.”

  “Execution?”

  She didn’t comment. “His body was found Saturday morning. The FBI got the case yesterday when the police ID’d the body and noted he was on federal probation.”

  Sean’s mind ran through possible scenarios. Kate seemed to know what he was thinking and said, “Stay out of it, Sean.”

  He didn’t respond. Of course he wasn’t going to stay out of it. In a roundabout way, Morton’s murder affected his business. Patrick was his partner, and Lucy was Patrick’s sister. That made the entire case his domain, and nothing Kate said was going to deter him. That she even tried proved she didn’t know him.

  “I’ll bring Lucy home later tonight,” he said. “But a word of advice—I don’t think she wants to hear any more excuses or explanations. I’d stay out of her way and let her work through it herself, or you’re going to dig yourself into a deeper hole.”

  SIX

  Brad Prenter glanced at his watch. Tanya was late.

  He didn’t like that. She’d already pissed him off with her indecisiveness. He had a very busy life and he always arrived on time—why couldn’t his date reciprocate? Strike one.

  He glanced around the busy club, anger gnawing in his gut. All these kids, mostly college students, laughing, yakking it up. Flaunting their freedom. He used to be one of them.

  When had his life gone to shit? It was that bitch, Sara Tyson. Accusing him of rape. Like he needed to rape a woman to get laid. Women wanted him. Always had, always would. He came from a wealthy family; he always paid for dinner, drinks, even concerts and the theater—and not the cheap seats, either. He was attractive, with a good body, and he was great in bed. The women he screwed always told him how good he did them. Even Sara, but then she’d gone and had a mental breakdown when her roommate walked in on them doing it doggy-style. Went all psycho and said the alcohol made her do it. Bull-fucking-shit. If her roommate wasn’t such a fucking interfering prude, he could have talked Sara out of charging him with rape.

  It was Sara’s word against his. Everyone had seen her hanging all over him at the club. The cops hadn’t even been able to prove he’d been the one to put the Liquid X in her drink. His attorney said he’d get off, that there was no way the judge would even let it go to trial.