Confess (Sin City Salvation #1)

by A. Zavarelli

  “I don’t know.” I rolled over and stared out the window. “But I’ve been thinking about a lot of stuff lately, and I just regret the way we were living. It wasn’t right for me to do that. I should have showed you a better way.”

  Birdie’s voice was soft when she replied. “You did the best with what we were given, Gypsy. I know you aren’t my mom, but you’ve always taken care of me anyway. I would never want you to feel bad for doing what you had to so we could survive. In fact, you’ve done too much. I’m an adult now, and it’s time for me to carry some of the burden. It’s time for me to be responsible too.”

  Her words surprised me, and they sounded so mature, I didn’t know what to think. Maybe Washington was good for Birdie, but I had to see it for myself.

  “Please come visit me?” I begged.

  “I will,” she promised.

  “Next weekend? I’ll buy you the tickets.”

  “I can do it,” she said with a smile in her voice. “All grown up, remember?”

  “Right.” I laughed.

  “I don’t know about next weekend. It might be a couple of weeks with my schoolwork, but I will come.”

  “Okay. I’m going to hold you to that.”

  “I miss you,” she whispered. “I’ll see you soon okay?”

  “Miss you too. See you soon.”

  We hung up, and I stared at the ceiling for a long time before I decided to move. I thought about what Birdie said, and the truth was that I did feel different. My time with Lucian had changed me already in ways I couldn’t have imagined. He forced me to confront my demons, and I didn’t like it, but it felt like I needed it.

  But that wasn’t the reason I felt lighter today. After waking up with the hangover from hell, I thought I would hate Luna for whatever concoction she gave me the night before. I felt as though I’d been tricked, and a part of me was angry. I certainly couldn’t trust her, I knew that much.

  But something was different about me, and I didn’t know if it was the drink or the intense night and morning I’d spent with Lucian. Things were becoming clearer for me. Sharper.

  I’d been dealt a shitty hand of cards in life, and I never realized until now just how fucking angry I’d been about it. The cons, the men, the money… I had so much suppressed rage built up over the years, it was my way of taking back power. When Birdie and I finally escaped Ricky, I felt like the world owed us everything for the hell we went through. It worked for a while, but deep down in the black cavity of my heart, I knew it wasn’t going to work anymore.

  Lucian was preparing me for the world, trying to teach me all the things I never learned before he let me go. The problem was that now I was scared to fly.

  It terrified me more than anything, considering what my life would be like when things with him eventually came to an end. He told me he couldn’t love me, and I believed him. This wasn’t my fairy-tale ending, and I wasn’t deluded enough to even consider it, but it didn’t mean I was as good at protecting myself as he was.

  BEING THAT IT WAS A Sunday, the shelter was almost completely full when I walked in. I knew from the briefing we’d received that the ladies participated in community activities and work skills on a regular basis throughout the week, but the weekends were for downtime.

  Nina raised her brows when she saw me walk in carrying two oversized garbage bags, and I told her there were more in my car. She sent another volunteer to help me carry them in, and within two minutes, the entire contents of my closet were sitting in the middle of the people who probably needed them the most.

  All the trophies I’d collected, the material objects I’d lusted over and worked so hard for, scheming and manipulating… they had very suddenly and without warning lost their luster. When I looked at them now, I was disgusted by everything these clothes and shoes represented. But I knew they still had a purpose; it just wasn’t for me.

  “I don’t know if any of it’s practical,” I told Nina. “But I figured maybe they could get some use out of these.”

  “Clothes are always practical for women in crisis,” she said. “I can’t thank you enough for doing this.”

  My cheeks flushed with heat when she walked into the center of the room and made an announcement, publicly thanking me for my donation and telling the ladies to come up and take their picks.

  I didn’t want the acknowledgment, but I received it nonetheless. Now that I had done my good deed, I was ready to run, but the director proceeded to lure me into conversation as the feeding frenzy began. The women tore through the bags, gasping at the designer labels and clinging to whatever piece they chose like it was their lifeline. Some even had tears in their eyes as they thanked me, and admittedly, I had to look away. I didn’t want them to think I was good, especially when I had done bad to get these items.

  “I should go,” I said.

  “Wait!”

  I turned around to find Luna staring back at me, a pained expression tarnishing her pretty features.

  My eyes narrowed in on her. “What are you doing here?”

  “It’s Sunday,” she said. “I work here on Sundays.”

  I didn’t answer, and I still wanted to leave, even if she was trying to express how sorry she was.

  “Can I talk to you for just a minute?” she asked. “Please?”

  Rightfully, I should have left. She deserved it. But I wanted to know what the hell she was thinking last night, so I followed her to an isolated corner of the building and crossed my arms, waiting to hear whatever she had to say.

  “What you did in there was a really good thing,” she said.

  “That’s it?” I glared. “That’s all you have to say?”

  Her eyes drifted to the floor, and she shook her head. “The drink changes you. Just be careful about making too many big, life-altering decisions right away.”

  “You didn’t tell me what was in the drink,” I snapped. “You could have killed me.”

  “It’s safe, I swear,” she promised. “It’s totally authentic and prepared by a shaman, or I would have never let you take it. I never could have known how strongly you’d react to it. I never intended to cause you pain. It was supposed to be a spiritual experience.”

  “You call lying in the middle of the desert puking my guts out a spiritual experience?”

  “Your body was expelling negative emotions. Trauma.” She bowed her head. “I just wanted it to help you. I thought you needed it.”

  I crossed my arms and took a step back from her. “How could you possibly know what I need? You don’t know me. And I don’t know what kind of stuff you’re into, but this isn’t what I do.”

  She looked up, eyes bright. “You feel different today, don’t you? Lighter? I can tell in the way you carry yourself. You are softer. The drink did that.”

  I wanted to deny it, but I didn’t because maybe she was right. I did feel better. “Look, I don’t know what it did or didn’t do, but you shouldn’t have tricked me. I was really sick last night.”

  “I know.” Her pale red eyebrows pinched together. “I’m sorry. It’s always difficult to tell the intensity of someone’s first time. You have so many demons, I could not have predicted them all.”

  Her words triggered a fragment of a memory from the night before. Something she’d said when she was reading me. She seemed horrified by something she felt, and I didn’t want to buy into her so-called abilities, but I couldn’t help being curious about it.

  “Last night, when you read me, you said you saw something, and then you wouldn’t tell me what it was.”

  Her face fell, and she shook her head. “Some things are not meant to be known until they happen. You can’t change fate; you can only survive it.”

  I didn’t like that response, and I was prepared to argue, but she nodded behind me. When I turned, Lucian was walking through the door, his eyes scanning the room before they landed on me.

  Luna grabbed my hand and whispered in my ear. “Please don’t hate me. Call me if you can forgive me.”
r />   She disappeared, appropriately, right before Lucian arrived at my side.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked. “I thought you had some work to do at the office.”

  “I did.” He glared at Luna’s retreating form. “But then I saw you left the house again.”

  “You never told me not to.”

  “I thought it was implied after last night.”

  When I looked into his chocolate eyes, it occurred to me he was really here out of concern. He didn’t like Luna based on his first impression, and I couldn’t blame him for that after he’d found me wandering through the desert like a lunatic.

  “I’m coming home now,” I said.

  He led me toward the door, his hand pressed against my lower back, firm and strong. “I’ll drive you.”

  “But my car—”

  “Ace will pick it up. You shouldn’t be driving in this part of the city by yourself.”

  I didn’t argue. We buckled in and sped off, Lucian handling the Shelby he reserved for weekends like a professional racer rather than a lawyer. There were so many different facets to him, I wondered if I would ever fully understand who this man was. The two years that seemed like a lifetime in the beginning now felt like a small dot on the map of my life. I had so many questions, and so little time to ask them. But the first was why Lucian pulled into the mall and found a parking space.

  “What are we doing here?” I asked.

  He gave me a sly smile. “You’ll probably need some new clothes.”

  “Oh. Yeah, I guess I probably will. But don’t you have work to do?”

  “Always.” He sighed. “But I think today, it can wait.”

  My eyes wandered over his face, pausing on his lips. I wanted to kiss him just for the sake of kissing him, and it was a dangerous notion to have. But I saw the same want reflected in his eyes when he looked at me. It was an intimate desire. A need to be close to me. Maybe I was imagining it, or maybe Lucian wasn’t as honest as he liked to believe. No matter what came out of his mouth, his body told me something else entirely.

  He gave in without a fight this time, leaning in and finding my lips with his. I breathed him in, dragging my fingers through his hair as he groaned into my mouth. What I really wanted him to do was take me home and let me crawl into his lap and stay there for the rest of the day.

  Being with Lucian was like soaring the unknown tracks of a roller coaster at high speed for the first time. My body jolting and my stomach lurching and the wind whipping my face as I screamed. I felt that way every time he looked at me now, and I wondered if for even a second, he did too.

  “Gypsy,” he whispered against my lips, pulling away just far enough to meet my eyes. “I want you to know that I’m proud of you. What you did today was a good thing.”

  I swallowed and offered him a smile, but inside, I felt like I wanted to cry.

  “DO YOU LIKE IT?”

  Gypsy stood in front of a display of black lace embellished bras, her eyes cutting over the patterns like razors.

  “This is weird,” she said finally.

  Her gaze darted around the store, taking inventory of the watchful observers around us. I knew she was anxious, but I was still trying to narrow down why. It wasn’t until another woman tapped me on the arm and showboated her pearly white teeth that the mystery started to unravel.

  “Excuse me?” The interloper held up two different bras in her hands. “I was wondering if you had these in my size, 34D?”

  I stared at her incredulously, but my response wasn’t necessary. Gypsy took it upon herself to answer.

  “Do you seriously think you’re fooling anyone with that, sweetheart? He doesn’t work here, so get lost.”

  The woman stomped off, and Gypsy edged closer, irritation brewing in her eyes. She was marking her territory, being me, and I was just coming to understand what was happening. We were in a store full of women. And some of those women had decided they had an appreciation for me, judging by the sly smiles they tossed my way as I looked around the room.

  I knew that Gypsy would find it difficult to believe, but I rarely noticed such things. I had suppressed my sexuality for so long that the lustful gazes of complete strangers weren’t even on my radar.

  For seventeen years, there wasn’t a woman on this earth who could make me succumb to her temptations. At least, not until her. And now I had a decision to make. One that could teach Gypsy a lesson, or one that could make her feel secure. The latter option was wrong, given that I wasn’t here to comfort her. If she grew accustomed to my comforts, then it would only prove to hurt her more in the end.

  I wanted more than anything for her to be strong enough to stand on her own. To see that she was smart and capable of living a life she deserved. But I also wanted to hold her and tell her that it was okay. That I was hers.

  And it was all wrong.

  I pulled her against me and whispered in her ear. “Those women don’t mean anything to me, pet. You have nothing to worry about.”

  “Right.” She buried her head against my chest, obscuring her eyes as I petted her hair. “Because I don’t mean anything to you either.”

  My hand froze, and unjustified irritation bubbled up inside me at her accusation. Of course, she had every right to say it because it’s exactly what I’d been telling her from the beginning. But when she said it, I wanted to tell her how wrong she was. Already, I’d shown too much weakness as far as she was concerned. I was breaking every rule I’d set and doing everything I promised myself I wouldn’t, so I stayed silent.

  It was a coward’s move, yet also, the right move. It might hurt now, but in the end, I hoped she would see I was doing what was best for her.

  The car ride home was a quiet one, and even though I’d convinced her to buy some clothes, she’d still have a lot of shopping to do on her own.

  I was surprised she didn’t complain when I took her to regular department stores where the price tags were generally under fifty dollars per piece. It wasn’t about the money; it was about the materialistic spell she’d been under for so long. But it seemed that somewhere between the darkness of last night and the dawn of today, that spell had broken.

  She picked out the pieces herself. Things I didn’t necessarily expect. They weren’t as tight or form fitting as her old clothes. They weren’t meant to display her body and drive men mad. They were items with purpose and comfort. Tee shirts, jeans, shorts. A few summer dresses and a single pair of flip-flops. After a brief argument over who would pay, I slipped the sales woman my card and won the battle.

  Now I had the rest of the day to account for, and a lot of catching up to do on Emmanuel’s case. I could have taken Gypsy home, but it occurred to me there was another solution for both our problems. She wasn’t the type of woman who could be satisfied with a few hours of schoolwork every day. She needed something to challenge her, and I needed her expertise since I was anything but charming. She’d already signed the non-disclosure agreement, and I had Emmanuel’s permission to disclose information to her as my assistant, so I pointed the car in the direction of his old neighborhood.

  “I need your help.” I turned off the ignition and stared at the small yellow house on the corner. The media frenzy had died down, but there were still signs of the shame Emmanuel’s family bore. The windows were boarded up, and there were extra locks on the door. They, too, were living like they were in prison.

  “What is this place?” Gypsy asked.

  “It’s my client’s mother’s house. I’ve been trying to get her to speak to me, but it hasn’t panned out.”

  She turned to me, eyes sharp. “And what makes you think I can help with that?”

  There were many different answers I could give her. She was a con artist, but that wasn’t the label I wanted to use, especially when I’d been steadfast in trying to break her of it.

  “There’s something about you that makes people take notice,” I said. “You are tragic and beautiful, and I have a feeling she will be more recept
ive to you.”

  She looked out the window, staring at the house with a softness she didn’t often display. “I guess she doesn’t know that you’re tragic and beautiful too.”

  I smiled, and Gypsy threaded her fingers through mine. The darkness that seemed to linger between us was tempered, at least for now.

  “I’ll help you,” she said. “Just tell me what I need to do.”

  AFTER A CRASH COURSE IN the need-to-know details in Emmanuel’s case, I still wasn’t sure how helpful I could be. Lucian explained the terms of the non-disclosure agreement I’d signed and made a point to emphasize that I could never share whatever information we might gather inside that house, whether it was damning or not.

  I didn’t know left from right in this case, but when I stood next to Lucian on the front stoop of his client’s home, I realized something so profoundly simple that nothing else mattered.

  I trusted him.

  That revelation was enough to spin my world on its axis. I hadn’t ever trusted anyone apart from Birdie. She was it for me. But this man took a sledgehammer to my life and demolished the walls I’d built so carefully around myself. When I looked up at him now, tenacious as he was beside me, I had one thing to rely on. Lucian believed in Emmanuel’s innocence, and by default, I wanted to believe it too.

  Somehow, in a matter of moments, we’d become crusaders for righteousness together. My previous judgments, cast in ignorance, no longer had roots. This was a man who stood for what he believed in. A man who helped others, even if they didn’t always want to accept it. I knew with certainty that we wouldn’t be here today unless Lucian believed in the depths of his very soul that an innocent man was about to face a fate similar to his own.

  For the first time in my life, I was proud of what I was doing, and I was determined to help however I could. When the door edged open, and two dark eyes peeked out at the visitors on her stoop, I plastered the most genuine smile I could summon on my face.