Sinful Illusions

by Morgan James

  Keeping my back to the wall, I crept down, my eyes never resting as I continually scanned the area for movement. The front door had been kicked in, and it gaped open, allowing the cold air to rush in.

  A grunt came from the bottom of the stairs, and two dark-clad bodies lay on the floor of the foyer, illuminated by the moonlight streaming in through the jagged glass of the broken windows. A man lay slumped against the post, and he coughed, sending a trickle of blood dripping down his chin. As I moved to his side, I recognized Callum. His gun swung up as I moved into his peripheral vision, then dropped just as quickly when he recognized me.

  I nodded to the blood saturating the front of his shirt. “How bad?”

  Callum’s hand rested over his stomach. “Gut shot when I took out these two fuckers.” He coughed again, the sound rattling in his chest. “I think they’re headed toward your office.”

  Tucking the gun in the waistband of my pants, I checked our surroundings once more. Though sounds of broken wood and shattering glass came from the opposite side of the house, here it was quiet. Grasping Callum under the armpits, I dragged him around the corner where he would be out of the line of fire if the assholes headed back this way.

  “Call for help.” I slipped the phone from my back pocket and passed it to him, indicating that he should call Dr. Marlowe. “How many are left?”

  “Not sure.” He grimaced as he gripped the phone. “I think there were about a dozen—minus those two.”

  I glanced toward the bodies on the floor, and pressed a hand to his shoulder. “Well done. I need to check on the others.”

  With a nod, he dialed Marlowe’s number, and I headed down the hall toward the west wing of the house. I found another eight men down on the way, two of them mine. A man moved out from a darkened doorway, and I pulled the trigger twice, not sparing him another glance as I left him to bleed out. By the time I reached my office, my fury was at full pitch. It grew worse when I peered around the doorjamb.

  Two bodies lay on the rug in front of my desk, signs of struggle evident in the overturned furniture. Xavier and Rodrigo knelt on the floor in front of my desk, and a man stood behind them, holding a pistol execution-style.

  I lifted my pistol but the motion caught his attention, and the man whirled toward me. He fired, his shot going wide and sinking into the door. Wood exploded as I squeezed the trigger, and I winced as a sharp pain radiated from my temple. The man grunted as my bullet sank into his chest but managed to get off another shot as he stumbled. It hit high on the wall, and I popped off two more rounds, each one ripping through his chest. His mouth twisted, and he lifted his pistol toward me again, but I fired off a fourth round. This one went through his forehead, and exited out the back with an explosion of dark spatter in the silvery moonlight.

  He dropped to his knees, then collapsed face first, dark blood pooling around his torso.

  Behind him, my men rose shakily to their feet. “Good?”

  “Flesh wound,” Xavier said, running his hand along his bicep.

  “Good,” Rodrigo affirmed.

  “Callum’s wounded, but he put in a call to Doc Marlowe.” I glanced around. “Let’s sweep the house, then call for cleanup.”

  I had to get back to Eva. Keeping a trained eye on my surroundings, I moved quickly out of my office and around the corner, taking the back steps two at a time. I’d just crested the landing when a door on the right opened up two rooms ahead. Icy awareness slithered down my spine as I lifted my gun. The man’s head swiveled my way, and the muzzle of his pistol flashed as he got off a single shot. I fired off three rounds of my own and watched him stumble backwards through the doorway, leaving a streak of blood on the wall before he collapsed. Moving toward him, I picked up his gun and tucked it in my waistband, my heart threatening to beat right out of my chest. Two more rooms and he would have gotten to Eva.

  I hated to be away from her for another second, but I needed to make sure it was safe. Footsteps sounded from behind me, and I tossed a look at Rodrigo, who had followed the sound of the gunshots.

  I gestured with my head. “Clear the floor. You take the left side, I’ll take the right.”

  We moved quickly and efficiently, Xavier joining us just as we finished sweeping the second floor. I shoved my pistol in my waistband and met his gaze. “All clear?”

  “We lost two, and I counted eleven of theirs. Twelve including that one.” He tipped his head toward the man sprawled at the end of the hallway.

  “Good.” I drew in a deep breath. “Let Marlowe know he’s good to come in. Get yourselves taken care of and call the crew. We need to get these windows replaced.”

  “You got it.”

  They dispersed, and I made a beeline for my room, unable to stay away from Eva one more second.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Eva

  My heart thudded against my chest as Fox disappeared, slamming the door in his wake. For a second I just stared at the slab of wood. He’d left me. Cold settled over my body as the realization sank in. A piercing howl welled up and out of my throat.

  I thrashed against the ties binding me to the bed, but they became tighter the more I struggled. I screamed out my frustration, then cut off mid-scream. Oh, God. What if they heard me? The sharp retort of gunfire intermittently filled the air, along with the sounds of destruction and angry shouts. What if they killed Fox? They would kill him, kill his men. Then they’d come for me.

  I jumped as the report of gunfire came from the hallway just outside the bedroom door. Three shots came in quick succession, followed by a heavy silence. My lungs ached as I held by breath, waiting for something to happen. Nerves twisted my stomach into knots, the silence interminable.

  Tears streamed down my cheeks until I could barely breathe, my chest constricted by fear. Suddenly, the sound of a key filling the lock met my ears, followed by the grating sound of metal on metal. Every muscle in my body tensed as the knob turned and the door swung inward.

  Fox appeared in the open space, and my fear gave way to relief, immediately followed by anger. “Get me out of here!”

  My kicking and thrashing resumed, and Fox lunged toward the bed, yanking on the bonds. “Calm down!”

  Ignoring him, I fought harder, and he grabbed my arms, stilling them. “I can’t get you free if you keep fighting me. I need you to calm down.”

  I somehow managed to stay still until the last tie fell free, then I launched myself at him. “How could you?” I beat on his chest. “You left me!”

  “You’re safe, angel,” he said, capturing my wrists. “Everything’s fine. They’re gone and—”

  “Nothing is fine!” I screeched, yanking out of his hold. “How can you say that? Someone shot up the house. You could have been killed. I could have been killed!”

  My voice was high, hysterical, but I couldn’t help it. How did he live like this? My mind was too muddled to think clearly, and I shoved against him. “You left me!”

  “I know, angel. I’m sorry.”

  Though his apology sounded sincere, it didn’t placate me. I punched his chest once. Twice. I pounded him with my fists over and over, venting my anger and worry and frustration as tears poured down my cheeks. He didn’t bother to fight back; through it all, he held me in the circle of his arms, just taking the punishment. It only made me angrier. I wanted him as outraged and upset as I was. Instead, he seemed… resigned, like this was nothing new to him.

  Realization doused me like ice water, and I dropped my arms away. Maybe he was used to this; maybe this was normal for him. How many times had he been shot at, attacked? God, I couldn’t bear to think about it.

  Stepping away, I pulled out of his grasp. I couldn’t be around him right now. Without looking at him, I turned and strode into the bathroom, keeping my head down so he wouldn’t see the moisture tracking down my cheeks. Moving straight to the sink, I flipped the handle and splashed cool water on my face, obscuring the tears that burned up my throat and spilled over my cheeks. I turned off t
he water and dropped my head so my chin rested on my chest. A tear dropped from my cheek, and I watched it land on the marble.

  So absorbed in my own thoughts, I didn’t hear the soft footsteps approach until I felt his hand on my shoulder. “Eva.”

  Blinking the tears away, I turned my back on him without responding and reached for a towel. I blotted my face dry, taking an inordinately long time before finally tossing it on the counter. Fox’s hand slipped around my elbow, and he guided me toward him. I couldn’t meet his eyes; instead, I stared at his broad chest, the dark skin peeking out of the open vee of his shirt.

  One hand cradled my chin, and he bent his knees to meet my gaze. “Talk to me.”

  I shook my head, directing my gaze over his shoulder.

  “You’re worried I won’t take care of you?”

  I let out an impatient huff but didn’t say a word. His lips pursed in irritation, then became pensive. “You’re worried about me.”

  I blinked again, steeling my heart, and both hands moved to frame my face so I had no choice but to look at him. “Nothing will happen to me.”

  “You can’t promise that.”

  He looked like he would argue, then stopped. “No one has ever cared for my wellbeing.” He took me in his arms. “You have a good heart.”

  Part of me wanted to lean into him, to soak up the warmth and security of his embrace. But I still felt too shattered, too on edge. “Is it always like this for you?”

  My voice sounded dull and toneless even to my own ears, and Fox stiffened before leaning away a bit. To his credit, he didn’t ask what I meant. “Not usually, no. But something I’ve been working on has… stirred the hornets’ nest.”

  “Are you ever going to tell me?” He wouldn’t even tell me what he was working on. Every time I tried to ask, he changed the subject.

  “I just want to protect you,” he said. “I never want to put you in harm’s way.”

  “Little late for that, isn’t it?”

  His hands fell away, and a tic ran along the line of his jaw. “No one will ever hurt you—not while I’m here.”

  Did he not understand? I shook my head. “I need some time to myself.”

  “Eva…”

  I shrugged out of his grasp when his fingers wrapped around my wrist. “I can’t. Not right now.”

  Maybe not ever. He let me go as I left the bathroom, then escaped to my own room and closed the door behind me. It was a flimsy barrier between Fox and me, but I knew he was noble enough to not breach it. Even after everything, he respected me enough to grant my wish to be alone for the time being.

  Feeling cold all over, I crawled into bed and pulled the covers up to my chin, hugging a pillow to me. It felt strange to be back in my own room. Here in the silent darkness, I was left alone with my thoughts and plaguing doubts. I was merely a pawn in a game much larger and more complex than I ever imagined. I no longer believed that he had killed Elle, but that still didn’t change the man he was. Fox would never change. I was still furious with him for getting hurt. But I was even more mad at myself for loving him.

  Is this what my life would be like with Fox—a man who was always on the receiving end of danger? He doled out punishment and pain, but there was no stopping his enemies from retaliating, just as they’d done tonight. I wasn’t stupid. This was a never-ending cycle of violence and death. I couldn’t stand by and watch him be hunted and killed; it would destroy me.

  I felt so much for him—too much—and I missed him even now. I ached so badly just thinking of him that I wondered how I would ever survive without him. But I knew I had to. Whether it was tomorrow or twenty years from now, I would always be on edge, waiting for that awful moment when one of his men told me he was gone.

  I couldn’t live like that. Mere hours ago, I was ready to tell him that I was falling for him. But now… allowing myself to love Fox would result in only one thing—heartbreak. It was ironic how things had come full circle in the few months since I’d arrived. I’d vowed then never to give him my heart. Now I remembered why.

  Admitting my love for him would strip my soul bare—and I couldn’t allow that to happen. If I gave him everything, it would shred me, leave me a mere scrap of humanity. I needed to harden my heart so there would be something left when I finally left this place. It was no longer a question of whether I would leave; I had to. There was no other option.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Fox

  I glanced at the pictures spread across my desk. Though I’d seen them only once, in death, I would never forget the hard lines of their faces. I vividly remembered the men’s bodies strewn about the house, blood seeping into the hardwood floors.

  I traced a finger over the wood grain of my desk. The rug had been rolled up and burned the night after the assault, but a heavy pall still hung over the house. I lifted my eyes to Rodrigo. “They don’t look familiar.”

  He shook his head. “All independent hires. No known accomplices or affiliations.”

  That was an awfully coordinated attack for a handful of thugs who’d decided to band together. It didn’t seem likely, and I didn’t believe in coincidences. Someone had hired them, walked them through exactly what they needed to do. I was certain it was Araña.

  “Someone knows who they are.” The Capaldi family was a fucking mess right now, too, so I couldn’t even reach out to them for information. “I’ll check with Nikolai, see if he’s heard of them.”

  “I don’t know if it’s true,” Rodrigo said slowly, “but I heard whispers that Sebastian might be involved.”

  I lifted a brow. “I doubt a pretty boy like him would want to get his hands dirty, not directly at least.”

  “He has money.” Rodrigo shrugged. “And he’s not the most discerning person.”

  That was true. It made me incredibly uneasy. Human trafficking was a $180 billion dollar business; where greed reined, morals quickly fell by the wayside. “See if you can find anything concrete.”

  Rodrigo dipped his head and left. With a sigh, I ran one hand over my face. The past four days had been sheer torture, and I’d slept maybe a total of twelve hours, all of them on the couch a few feet away.

  Eva had pulled away, and I had no idea how to connect with her again. She hid away during the day, ensconced in some rarely used room while I worked, then retreated to her own bed each night. She was barely eating again, and I could see the dark circles beneath her eyes during our infrequent encounters. I wanted so desperately to grab onto her, hold her, but she wouldn’t let me get close enough to speak, let alone pull her into my arms.

  Never had I seen her like this, not even in the beginning. The night of the break-in had ripped a hole in whatever bond we’d woven over the past couple of months. I’d experienced the soft, quiet tears from punishment, yes—but not the great, racking sobs she’d uttered that night. They’d shredded my insides, seeing her in pain like that. Worst, I had no idea what to do. I couldn’t take it back, couldn’t make it better. She was terrified not only for herself, but for me. And she wasn’t wrong. If I continued down this path, I would be putting Eva in danger. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened, but I couldn’t let her go, either. It wasn’t safe for her here, but it was even more dangerous for her out there, without my protection. I’d been forced to let her go, unsure of what to do. There was a great divide between us even though she was only one room away.

  I couldn’t fucking stand it anymore. Pushing to my feet, I strode toward the door. The windows I’d had replaced the morning following the invasion were dark as night settled over the house. Everything looked exactly the same—but it felt like night and day difference. I wasn’t certain things would ever go back to the way they were. I needed to bridge the gap between Eva and me, but I didn’t have a clue how to even begin to fix things.

  Moving slowly through the house, I tried to imagine where Eva might be today. My feet carried me toward the den, and I stopped just inside the doorway, relief filling my chest when I saw her
curled up on the couch, reading a book.

  Her eyes lifted to mine, and I watched every muscle tense before she dropped her gaze away again. I stepped inside, moving toward the sideboard to pour myself a drink. I’d just lifted the decanter when Eva quietly slid off the couch and started to stand. Setting the bottle down, I turned to her. “You’re more than welcome to stay.”

  “That’s okay.”

  She moved toward the door, but I was faster. Reaching out, I grabbed her arm and pulled her to a stop. “Damn it, Eva. Will you stop?”

  She shrugged out of my grasp, her gaze fixed on my chest. “Did you need something?”

  Her tone was cool, aloof, and it stoked my ire. “Yes, I need something. I need you to stop avoiding me, hiding away in your room.”

  “I haven’t been hiding.”

  I gritted my teeth together, determined to have it out with her and clear the air. “Well you’ve been doing an awfully good job of not being present, either.”

  She stiffened. “I just wanted a little space. I don’t think that’s too much to ask, all things considered.”

  I strove for calm as I spoke. “And I gave you the space you asked for. But it’s been four days, Eva. You won’t talk to me. You won’t even let me touch you!”

  “If that’s all you want, why don’t you go fuck someone else?” Bitter resentment flashed momentarily in her eyes before she averted her gaze again, and I reached out, stroking my fingers down her arm.

  “I don’t want anyone else. I want you. Only you.”

  “Fox.” She sighed. “I just…”

  She trailed off, and I picked up. “I haven’t seen you for days, and it’s been killing me. Damn it, Eva, I miss you.”

  She seemed to soften a bit but still wouldn’t look at me. “I haven’t gone anywhere, Fox. I’m still right here.”

  “Physically, maybe.” I shook my head. “But emotionally, you’re a thousand miles away. I know you’re scared—and you have every right to be,” I said when her face snapped to mine. “But you’re safe with me.”