Sinful Illusions

by Morgan James

  “How do you get this job?”

  “Through a friend.”

  “That’s not good enough. I need answers.” Dropping my pistol a few inches, I pulled the trigger, and the man let out a low howl as the bullet tore through the fleshy part of his thigh. He dropped to the ground, writhing and groaning as he clutched his wound. “What’s your friend’s name?”

  It took him several seconds to form the word. “Lundy.”

  “Lundy have a first name?”

  “Ask… him…” He grimaced. “He was driving.”

  I glanced at Xavier, who shook his head. Turning back to the man on the ground, I leaned down and pressed the muzzle of the gun to his leg, eliciting a sharp cry from him. “He won’t be telling us anything, so I’m going to need you to think a little harder for me.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t… Fuck!” He clutched at his leg, a dark stain now saturating the material of his pants. “I need help!”

  “And I need a name.”

  “I don’t know!” he crowed. “He goes by Lundy. Never asked his first name.”

  “Not much of a friend, then, is he?” I lifted a brow, my gaze still fixed on the man writhing in front of me. “You always let your friends talk you into stupid stuff like this?”

  “Needed… the money.”

  “Don’t we all?” I slapped his leg and he let out another strangled sound as he twisted away from me. “Time’s running out. I’m gonna need something else. Anyone Lundy was working with?”

  “I don’t know.”

  I sighed. “If that’s how you feel.” I lifted the pistol, and the man’s hands flew up.

  “Wait, wait!”

  I lifted a brow. “Remember something?”

  “I… I think heard him mention the name Grigori.”

  I studied the man. “Last name?”

  “Don’t… don’t know.”

  “Here’s what’s going to happen.” The man’s glassy eyes fixed on mine. “You have three days to find this Grigori and deliver him to me. Understood?”

  “Y-yes.” His eyes closed, but his head bobbed.

  Drawing in a deep breath, I pushed to my feet and turned to Xavier. “Deliver him to Marlowe and get him fixed up.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I nodded. “Let’s get this mess cleaned up before someone else comes along.”

  Xavier and Callum zip-tied the man, then lifted him to his feet and carried him to their SUV.

  The dull throbbing in my side drew my attention, and I winced as my fingers slid along my waist, coming away wet with dark blood. “Ah, fuck.”

  “Good, boss?” Rodrigo’s eyes were filled with concern.

  “Fine. Have you checked the cargo yet?” He shook his head, and I moved to the back of the box truck, then lifted the latch. The door swung open with a groan, and the dark interior was slowly illuminated by the headlights of the SUV. Two dozen pairs of terrified eyes in small, dirt-streaked faces stared back at me. Gritting my teeth together, I directed my next words at Rodrigo. “Take care of it.”

  Less than ten minutes later, bodies loaded and weapons retrieved, we were headed home.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Eva

  The sound of heavy footsteps in the hallway drew my attention to the door, and my eyes widened as Fox stumbled inside, a grimace on his face. He looked disheveled, his suit rumpled and his hair sticking up in places.

  I slid off the bed and was halfway to him when the sight of the blood on his hands and face drew me up short. “Jesus! What happened?”

  He held up a hand. “Nothing to make a big deal out of.”

  “Seriously.” I gestured at his cheek, a maroon smear across his swarthy flesh. What the hell happened?”

  Following my gaze, he grimaced again and gingerly touched his side. “Need you to clean me up.”

  “What?” My gaze drifted lower, to the parted fabric of his suit jacket, and my eyes widened at the sight of dark stains smeared over his blue dress shirt. “Oh, my God, you’re hurt! We need to get you to the hospital!”

  He waved off my concern. “I’ll be fine.”

  I started to rush forward, then stopped myself. My emotions ping-ponged all over the place. My initial fear that he was mortally wounded disappeared, and I glared at him. “Where the hell is Dr. Marlowe? Call him.”

  Fox shook his head. “He’s tied up taking care of someone else right now.”

  One of his men? Never mind. I told myself I didn’t care as I shook my head. “If it’s no big deal, then you can take care of the damn thing. You got yourself into this mess.”

  Whatever he’d done, the idiot had probably deserved it. I wasn’t stupid enough to ask, and he didn’t offer any details. His eyes darkened as he approached and gingerly took a seat on the edge of the mattress. “It’s just a flesh wound.”

  Vacillating between worry and anger, I allowed the anger to take over. “Just a flesh wound? Really? I’m sure if you just slap a Band-Aid over it, it’ll go away all on its own.”

  He scowled at me. “Don’t be dramatic.”

  “Dramatic? You haven’t begun to see dramatic.” I crossed my arms over my chest, appalled by his stubbornness. I was annoyed that I was actually concerned over this man. I should be glad he was hurt; he’d brought this on himself. But the sight of the dark blood staining his shirt… I swallowed down my concern and gestured toward his wound. “I’m not touching that thing. Do it yourself.”

  “I would, but I can’t reach it.”

  “Well, that’s too bad, because—”

  “Eva!” I jumped as he barked out my name, his dark eyes pinning me with a glare.

  I forced the words out, my throat thick. “I can’t.”

  “Do you not like the sight of blood?”

  “It’s not that. I just…” Don’t like the sight of blood on you.

  “Come here, angel.”

  Despite me shaking my head at his request, my feet drew me forward of their own volition. Fox took my hand in his. “I need you to do this for me, Eva. I can’t do it on my own.”

  “You need a doctor—”

  “No.” He shook his head, his fingers tightening on mine. “No doctors, Eva. Just you and me.”

  “What about one of your men?” I asked desperately, trying to pull my hand away. “I’ll go get Rodrigo or—”

  “I want you.” Dark eyes stared up at me. “I need you. Please.”

  My resolved shattered at the sound of that word slipping off his tongue. My hands shook, but I slid them inside his suit jacket, then carefully pushed it over his shoulders and stripped his arms free of the sleeves. His dress shirt was saturated with blood along his right side, and I carefully unbuttoned it and peeled it away so I could see better.

  That was a mistake. The fabric of the shirt stuck to the wound, and several fibers were lodged in the torn flesh. The sight made me sick, and I shook my head as bile rose into my throat. “Oh, God.” I shook my head again. “No way. I can’t—I’m not—”

  “You can do this.”

  “You need a doctor!” I heard the hysteria in my voice, but I couldn’t control it.

  “Eva.” His tone was commanding yet gently. “Get the medical kit from under the sink.”

  “But I don’t know what I’m doing! I can’t—”

  “Eva.” He grabbed my chin and directed my gaze to his. “I’m fine. And you can do this.”

  I swallowed hard. “I don’t want to hurt you.” My admission came out on a whisper.

  “Never.” He shook his head. “I promise, angel. It’s not as bad as it looks. Once you get it cleaned up, you’ll see.”

  I seriously doubted that. Our gazes met and held for several seconds before I finally nodded reluctantly. “Okay.”

  I hurried to the bathroom and dug out the medical kit stored under the cabinet. By the time I got back to the bedroom, Fox was struggling to get the shirt off. His face was pulled into a grimace, and I hurried forward.

  I set one hand on his shoulder
. “Don’t do that. I’ll cut it off.”

  Digging through the kit, I found a pair of bandage scissors and sliced quickly through the fabric, allowing it to fall to the floor at our feet. With a trembling hand, I gently touched the skin near the wound. It was red and angry, definitely worse than anything I’d ever seen. The ragged edges of skin and tissue swam before my eyes, and I swayed on my feet.

  “Eva.” I lifted my gaze to Fox and found him watching me. He steadied me with his hands on my hips. “I trust you. You can do this.”

  I drew in a deep breath, trying to gather myself. He trusted me to do this for him. I had to do it. Finally, I gave a little nod. “Tell me what to do.”

  He gestured to the wound. “I need you to flush it, try to get the fibers out if you can.”

  I nodded slowly and licked my lips. “Maybe we should move into the bathroom so we won’t make such a mess.”

  Fox stood and headed into the bathroom, then settled on the edge of the tub. He controlled his reactions, holding back any grunts of pain as I carefully cleaned and disinfected his wound. His knuckles were white where they gripped the bathtub, and I knew it had to hurt like a bitch. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry,” he said, his voice rough. “You’re doing great.”

  “What’s next?”

  “Can you sew?”

  My eyes widened, flying to his. “Is that a joke?”

  “Never mind. There are some steri-strips in there. I need you to try to pull the edges of the wound as close together as you can.”

  I applied antibiotic ointment, then found the tiny fabric tape strips and placed them over the gaping flesh to close it up. Once I was done, I pressed a bandage over top to keep anything else from getting inside. I pulled one last strip of tape from the roll and laid it over the edge of the gauze square to keep it in place. My hands still shook as I replaced it in the kit.

  “All done.” I turned my attention to the medical kit and began to put everything away. “You can go now.”

  “Eva?”

  “Yeah?” I kept my head down, unable to look at him just yet. Everything was still too fresh, my emotions too jumbled.

  “You know, you’re even mouthier when you’re worried.”

  Despite myself, I let out a startled laugh. One huge hand moved to my face, turning me so I had no choice but to face him. Fox studied me, his thumb sliding over my bottom lip. “Thank you.”

  I met his dark eyes and nodded. “You’re welcome.”

  He leaned in and kissed me lightly. “I’m beginning to think you really are my guardian angel.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Fox

  “Boss?”

  I lifted my head at the sound of Xavier’s voice and leaned back in the chair. “Yes?”

  “I had my friend in France check into Sebastian.”

  Ah, this should be good. “And what did he have to say? I hope the fucker lost a portion of that trust fund he’s been living off of.”

  “Actually, there’s no record that he was ever in France.”

  I lifted a brow. I wasn’t surprised that he’d lied to Marcella, but why lie about going to Monte Carlo? It wasn’t like she would have argued with him regardless. “And what was our good friend up to?”

  “I’m not sure, exactly.” Xavier gave a little shake of his head. “I checked with the pilot at the airfield where he normally flies from. According to the flight logs, Sebastian hasn’t been logged as a passenger for the past six weeks.”

  Interesting. “I want eyes on him. Let me know what you find out.”

  “Yes, sir.” He nodded. “Your guest is ready and waiting in the back room.”

  A wry smile curved my face as I rose from my chair. “Thank you. I suppose I shouldn’t keep my guest waiting.”

  Leaving Xavier to track down Sebastian’s whereabouts and recent activity, I headed out of my office. Soft notes of music filled the hall as I made my way into Noir’s back room, a place reserved for friends—and the occasional enemy. My eyes landed on the man bound to the chair as soon as I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. Hopefully, my visitor would be able to shed some light on who was behind the shipment we’d intercepted last week.

  I nodded to Rodrigo, who pulled the hood from the man’s face. Clear blue eyes stared up at me, full of hate. A thin rivulet of blood ran from his split eyebrow into his eye, crusting the dark lashes. I took a step forward, closing the distance between us and forcing him to look up at me.

  “You must be Grigori.” His eyes narrowed but he remained silent. “I’ll take that as a yes. I met an acquaintance of yours recently. Paul Holdren. Ring any bells?”

  Something flickered in the depths of his eyes, but he lifted a shoulder in a show of indifference. “Dunno. I know lots of people.”

  “I’ll bet you do.” I smirked. “You were expecting a shipment a couple days ago, weren’t you?”

  Grigori blinked rapidly, belying his calm façade. “Maybe.”

  “I believe you know exactly what I’m talking about.” I leaned close to him. “I’m curious, though. Why would a low level associate of the Bratva do this? It wasn’t sanctioned by Nikolai. So why risk it?”

  The man glared up at me, and his left eye twitched. “I have my reasons.”

  “I’m sure,” I said smoothly. “Money? Blackmail?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Depends on who you ask. Do you suppose it mattered to the children stolen from their families and transported halfway across the world to be sold off to the highest bidder?”

  Grigori flinched, but I continued. “You know what happens to children like that, don’t you? Do you enjoy using them, too? Do you like—”

  “No!” The word burst through his lips. “I was just responsible for arranging transport. I don’t know anything about what was inside.”

  I gauged his response. “Who were the men you hired?”

  He shrugged. “Just a few street thugs willing to work for easy money.”

  “Mhmm… And who contracted this out?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I’m afraid that won’t work for me.”

  I stepped back and allowed Rodrigo to take over. Those lifeless eyes of his terrified people, and I knew I wouldn’t have to wait long. Rodrigo landed a hard right hook before Grigori had a chance to blink. His head snapped back, and Rodrigo followed with a jab upward. The sound of his teeth gnashing together echoed in the small room, and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. Rodrigo bent and pulled a K-Bar from his boot then, with a quick, precise, movement, sliced across the man’s forearm. Blood welled and dripped to the floor in thick, heavy drops.

  “Stop! Stop! Jesus!” Grigori made a choking sound and spat a dark splatter of blood to the floor. “I don’t know! I swear!”

  “I need a name,” I said, infusing my voice with regret. “Otherwise…”

  “I don’t have a name—”

  “Well, then—”

  “Wait!” His chest heaved. “I did a little bit of digging before I took the job. I came across a specific word a few times, that’s all I know.”

  “A word?” I lifted a brow. “And how the hell is that supposed to help me?”

  His eyes bored into mine. “Could be a name or a place. Something. I don’t have the resources to check and whatever it is, it’s heavily guarded.”

  “And what is this word?”

  “Araña.”

  I blinked. “What the fuck is an araña?”

  “Spider.” Rodrigo’s voice floated over my shoulder, and I threw him a questioning glance. “It means spider in Spanish.”

  Like a spider weaving his web, trapping a bevy of unfortunate souls within. How fucking appropriate.

  “Now we’re getting somewhere,” I murmured as I turned back to Grigori. “Sounds like a person. You’ve never been in contact with this… Araña? You know nothing about him?”

  Grigori shook his head. “No. And no one else I know has, either.”

&
nbsp; “You’ve been asking about him?” I lifted a brow. “That’s an easy way to get killed.”

  He lifted one shoulder. “Honor among thieves and all that.”

  Better him than me. “I want you to find out everything you can, including where these last two shipments were transported.”

  He knew better than to argue. Grigori gave a solemn nod, and I gestured for Rodrigo to release him. Eva was waiting for me at home, and I had other—much better—things to do tonight.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Eva

  Fox slipped from the bed, gently extricating his arm from where it was tucked beneath my pillow. He was always an early riser, and as I blinked my eyes open, I realized the sun was barely over the horizon, only the dimmest rays of light filtering through the windows.

  I yawned and rolled to my back as I listened to the faucet turn on in the bathroom. For a brief moment, I considered trying to go back to sleep, but it was useless. Instead I lay there, the sheets still warm from his body heat.

  I had a feeling that Fox was still uncomfortable sharing the bed with someone, so I was always cautious to give him plenty of space each night as we fell asleep. His presence calmed me, reassured me, and I was oddly reluctant to go back to my own room. Although we began each night on our own sides of the bed, somehow we both ended up gravitating toward the other. I wasn’t sure who moved first, only that by early morning we were entwined together like two vines.

  I loved the feel of him next to me, the way his arm draped heavily over my waist. I stirred every time he touched me, acutely attuned to his movements. It was as if I didn’t want to miss a single moment with him. How much longer would this last? Just the thought made my heart clench as I threw the covers aside and rolled from the bed.

  Stooping to pick up the long-sleeved button-up shirt that Fox had discarded last night before falling into bed, I shrugged it on, then padded toward the bathroom. Fox stood at the vanity shaving, and I met his eyes in the mirror as I entered.

  “Sleep well, angel?”