Sinful Intentions

by Crystal Rhodes

  “Even if it were illegal or unethical?”

  “I never asked you to do anything illegal.”

  “Doing either one would make me feel less about myself.”

  His words revealed a lot about his character and the fantastic man that he was. Had she been wrong to ask him to change his very essence? Sharon closed her eyes and briefly relived the heart-wrenching scene from yesterday. She could only imagine the scenario if they took Trevor away. “I understand that, and you can explain it to my eight-year-old godson if he loses his family.”

  Releasing herself from his embrace, she walked on shaky legs to her desk and perched on its edge. Her body begged for surrender, but she rejected its plea.

  Winston couldn’t move. He was as hard as a rock. He had to concentrate hard on anything but the seductive allure of this woman who lay claim to his heart. It took a while before he could manage to walk across the room and settle in a chair.

  Sharon watched him, both stirred and amused by his dilemma, although her own wasn’t much better. They wanted each other in the worse way, and the pain was more than physical.

  She took a controlling breath. “Are we through with our disagreement, because I’m hungry.” She gave him a quirky little smile.

  At the moment, Winston wasn’t sure whether he wanted to strangle her or make love to her. The woman could turn him inside out without trying.

  “Then I guess that I better feed you, but I’d like to ask you something?’

  “Shoot.”

  “Is it possible that we can have some dessert later?” His eyes twinkled.

  “Maybe,” Sharon teased. She had no intention of not having both of their appetites satisfied this evening.

  Standing, Winston grabbed Sharon’s jacket from the wooden rack by the door. “Then, let’s get going. The sooner the better.”

  Sharon slipped into her suit jacket, then turned and gave him a peck on the cheek.

  “What’s that for?” he asked as his forefinger brushed the spot marked by her lipstick.

  “A slight preview of things to come.” She moved pass him toward the exit. His large hand wrapped around her small waist as he followed her to the door.

  “I hope I get more than that for dessert,” he teased.

  “A little bit goes a long way.” Sharon tossed over her shoulder as they made their exit. The breeze from the door raced across the room, reaching her abandoned desk where a single slip of paper perched on the edge fluttered slowly to the floor, forgotten.

  * * *

  Sin sat at a table in the fast-food restaurant looking out at the busy parking lot. He was anxious to conduct the business that brought him to this decaying Oakland neighborhood so that he could get back to the Peninsula. Despite his being dressed in jeans and a cotton T-shirt, he still looked like the successful businessman that he was. He hadn’t been a part of the streets in a long time and no longer fit into these surroundings.

  Nedra didn’t know that he was here. Nobody did. He had hoped never again to be in a position that would require that he seek out the man that he was meeting today. He was a person who wallowed in filth, and he hated doing business with him, but right now he needed his unique expertise. The man was a gatherer. He acquired information from people and places inaccessible to legitimate channels—and everything that he gathered was for sale. Sin had purchased his services numerous times over the years. The price had never been cheap.

  Turning from the window, Sin was surprised to see his contact sitting across from him at the table. He had appeared like a shadow. Thin and pale, with a shock of graying brown hair, he was dressed in a cheap gray jacket, a worn white shirt with frayed collar and a pair of wrinkled beige pants. He looked scruffy and unkempt. Sin had stopped trying long ago to guess his age. The lines etched on his face were more of a testimony to the kind of life that he lived than how long he had been on earth. His dark brown eyes sagged, and he always looked tired. He rarely made eye contact. His eyes seemed to be constantly in motion, and Sin knew that he couldn’t be trusted, but the information he gathered in the past had been accurate, and that’s exactly what was now needed.

  The man didn’t greet him.

  “Where’s my money?” The man’s voice was rough and gravelly, ravished by years of chain smoking and booze.

  Sin withdrew an envelope from his pocket and slid it across the table. “Just as agreed.”

  The man pocketed the envelope, acknowledging the unspoken trust between them. There was no need to count what was inside. He leaned back in the booth.

  “I put some feelers out with the name you gave me, and Royce Jamison ain’t some street punk. This one’s not going to be easy.”

  “I never said it would be.” Sin’s face remained unreadable.

  “But money talks,” the man said, tapping the pocket containing the envelope Sin had given him.

  “You just make sure that my money can hear the softest of whispers. And I want some answers in less than a week.” Sin’s tone was menacing.

  The man stared at him steadily. Sin knew that he was sizing him up, wondering if he still had any connections in Oakland that could make life difficult for him. He wanted to know did Sin still have power? He answered the man’s unspoken question.

  “I wouldn’t try me if I were you.” His words left no room for negotiation. Draining the soda from his cup, Sin started to get up from the booth. His business with this man was done for now.

  “What ever happened between you and that minister lady you was messing with years ago?” The man flashed him a lecherous grin.

  Sin paused. His relationship with Rev. Nedra Davis had been media fodder for weeks in the San Francisco Bay Area and far from being a secret. But, for some reason, he didn’t like this man mentioning his wife. Like Jamison, he was a predator, and the look that Sin gave him made it clear that he was never to be asked about her again.

  The man tried to stare him down, but lost. He dropped his eyes in surrender. Without a word, Sin slipped from the booth and left the restaurant.

  Chapter 23

  For the third night in a row, Evelyn Linwood tossed and turned in her bed unable to sleep. Why did this have to happen to her? She knew that she hadn’t lived an exemplary life, but she was a different woman now. Didn’t that count for something?

  Pushing the covers aside, she slipped out of bed and padded barefoot through the dark into the hallway. Turning on the light, she followed its path into the kitchen of her condo where she poured a cold glass of water, hoping that might extinguish the fire that burned within her. Nothing else seemed to be doing the job. Of course, whatever she did would only be a temporary solution. There was only one person who could douse her flames—Sinclair Reasoner. She was so hot for him that she could hardly stand it. Evelyn drank the water in one gulp.

  She was hopelessly in love with a married man. How had she gotten herself into such a dilemma?

  Evelyn had never had the opportunity to socialize with either Sinclair or his wife outside the confines of the school, but that night with him she would treasure forever. He was kind, intelligent, and funny, too. She couldn’t remember when she had enjoyed herself more.

  When she saw that he was alone at the club, speculation among her friends at her table was rampant that there might be trouble at home. She hadn’t shared with them her hope that they might be right.

  When he told her about the custody fight involving Trevor, she had been shocked. She hadn’t been aware that the Reasoner children were adopted. The youngest one looked so much like her father with her deep dimpled chin. The thought that anyone would try to take Trevor from such a wonderful family was inconceivable, especially considering—

  Evelyn flopped onto her sofa listlessly. What was she going to do? So much was at stake. She rolled onto her stomach and pulled a sofa pillow over her head, wanting to hide physically from the reality of her dilemma. Why was this happening to her? Maybe it was her punishment. She couldn’t say that she didn’t deserve it, but this.
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br />   Flinging the pillow aside, she sat up and propped it against her back as she let her thoughts drift back to her night with Sinclair. He had been so sweet. Unfortunately, when he drove her home he had talked about his wife and children all the way there. It wasn’t her favorite topic, but she had enjoyed being close to him despite the subject matter. The sound of his voice, the tantalizing smell of his cologne had nearly been her undoing. When he walked her to her doorstep, she had barely controlled the impulse to throw herself into his arms and give him a long, slow kiss goodnight, and even more. She had been willing. All he had to do was ask.

  As she brought herself back to the present, Evelyn gave a heavy sigh. Her nipples hardened at the mere thought of what Sinclair’s wife must experience being made love to by him. How many nights had she fantasized about being in Nedra Reasoner’s shoes? How many days had she spent plotting ways of getting his attention, devising schemes that might win him away from her? If she could only gain his favor, secure his gratitude, then maybe she could win his love. Now the opportunity had presented itself.

  “Yeah, the opportunity to cut my own throat!” Angrily, Evelyn threw a pillow across the room as she cursed her fate. She had worked so hard to earn what she had. She wasn’t about to jeopardize her present, and she certainly didn’t want to relive her past.

  It had been one filled with obstacles and heartache that she would rather forget. Born to a white mother and a black father, her mixed race heritage had eventually proved to be her salvation. She had barely survived the grinding poverty in which her family lived, or the home filled with verbal and physical abuse.

  Evelyn’s mother had come from a well-to-do family, but had given up her birthright when she married a man outside her race. Her father had been a man of promise—educated, refined, a major player in the business world. Her early years had been one of financial and emotional security, but those were years she could barely remember. She was seven years old when she first recalled the grownups around her mentioning words like embezzlement, corporate scandal and scapegoat. Her mother cried all of the time. Her father began to drink. The family moved from the comfortable house in the suburbs to a cramped apartment in the city, and it was there that everything fell apart.

  Her brother, Steve, two years her senior, left home when he was seventeen. She hadn’t heard from him since. She strongly suspected that he had disappeared into the white world where he was passing. He was more than capable of doing so.

  She left home at sixteen. By that time both of her parents were living so deeply in the bottle that she doubted if they knew that she was gone. The years that she was on her own had been rough. She had been young and done foolish things that she regretted, but that was the past, and it was gone and forgotten—almost.

  Exhausted, Evelyn turned off the lamp in the living room and dragged down the hallway to her bedroom. Life had its limits, and she knew her own. Love could make a woman make irrational choices, but what she was considering could prove disastrous. She wouldn’t do it. She simply wouldn’t.

  * * *

  Nedra placed the receiver back on its cradle. Ask and ye shall receive. Tears glistened in her eyes. She had asked for a miracle, and she had received it—quickly.

  It had been forty-eight hours since her husband had been marched unceremoniously from their home and taken to the police station. She had prayed hard, not only for a miracle but also for the Lord to take the negative feelings that she was harboring toward Royce Jamison from her heart. The telephone call she had just received from Donovan might help matters.

  Picking up the receiver, she dialed her husband’s cell phone. He would have picked up the children by now and should be headed home. It took a while for him to answer.

  “Where are you?” she asked eagerly.

  “On Highway One, a couple of minutes from home.” Sin spoke to her over the car speakerphone. “Why? Has something happened?”

  “Yes.” Nedra grinned. “Something good, but I’ll tell you when you get here.” She started to hang up, then added. “I love you.”

  Sin felt a tug in his loins. “I love you, too.” Unconsciously, his foot pressed a little harder on the pedal.

  Nedra was waiting for him in the family room when he entered. Mrs. Lucia had gone home, but the enticing aroma of the dinner she had made for them followed him as he made his way through the house.

  After giving the children a welcoming kiss, she sent them upstairs to change and do homework, then greeted Sin with a Cheshire cat grin. Kissing her on her forehead, he drew back and studied her.

  “Okay, what’s up?” He could see that she was bursting to reveal her good news.

  “I got a call from Donovan a short while ago. Royce Jamison dropped the charges against you,” she blurted eagerly.

  Sin froze. Nedra didn’t notice as she chattered on.

  “That’s one problem that we no longer have to concern ourselves with, thank God. I was so worried.” She looked at him expectantly and was surprised by the look on his face. “What’s wrong?” His face was a hardened mass.

  “I’m wondering why he dropped the charges.” His tone was equally as hard.

  Nedra frowned. “Who cares why he dropped them. I’m just glad that they’re dropped.”

  Sin shook his head. “He’s up to something. I just know it.”

  Nedra was exasperated. “Why do you have to do this? Why does something sinister have to be around every corner for you? Can’t you just enjoy the moment? You’re free!”

  Sin studied her, realizing her need for him to provide her with the reassurance that this one positive act might bring others. He drew her to him, as always wanting to give her whatever she needed.

  “You’re right, baby. I’m sorry. It’s good news. Real good news.” Yet, even as he spoke, he was suspicious. Royce Jamison’s generosity was suspect.

  * * *

  Royce took another swig of scotch, right out of the bottle this time. He had taken his boat out earlier that day and enjoyed the peace and serenity that came with being out to sea. He had loved sailing since childhood. It had been his only escape from his domineering father and his mother’s slow descent into the bottle. It was his salvation. He hadn’t come into shore until the sunset. After docking, he lay in his cabin and finished off a bottle of scotch. He planned on spending his entire weekend on board his beloved craft. Life was good.

  At least it would be good when the old man died. He was taking away what little fun that he was having with this custody thing by making him drop the charges against Nedra’s pretty boy husband. Now he didn’t stand a chance of getting a piece of that fine behind.

  When the old man did die, he planned on taking his inheritance and spending the rest of his life doing exactly what he wanted to do. This custody thing was disrupting his life in too many ways, and now his father was talking about getting his hands on the kid sooner. Hell! He had heard that under normal circumstances these custody cases could take months, even years. When he went along with this thing, he was hoping that the old goat would die before the case was settled. But it didn’t seem likely now. Who knew? The old man might even force him to stick around and play dad to the kid, and he wasn’t having that.

  He had planned on rushing the old man’s death a little sooner just the other day when he was summoned to his house, but there were so many people around that he had to alter his plan. It would have been so easy to do, almost as easy as how he got rid of Madeline. No one had ever suspected his part in that—a few sleeping pills in a drink to relax her, and then a lot more to finish her off. She had a depressed personality anyway, just like their mother. The typed suicide note wasn’t difficult for anyone to believe.

  A menacing smile crossed Royce’s face as he thought about how often he had wanted to tell his father what he had done to his precious daughter. That would kill him quickly, that was for sure. With a frustrated sigh, Royce took another drink and enjoyed the sensation as the liquor slid smoothly down his throat.

  If the k
id should die, that would be doubly satisfying. He couldn’t count the times he had thought about both of their deaths. He could play the grieving son and father, and all of his problems would be solved. No kid, no custody, no problem and all the loot. He laughed, delighted at the possibility.

  With great effort, Royce raised himself to a sitting position as he visualized how the kid’s death would probably destroy Sinclair Reasoner, to say nothing of his wife. They both deserved it. They were too arrogant for their own good. She would damn well regret the day that she had rejected him. She missed out on a good thing, and she would pay for it! How much more perfect could his life get?

  * * *

  Colin trekked up the hill headed toward his father’s office. He had spent the night in Seaside with his friend, Kendall. They had been working on a science project that they were to display in the upcoming school exhibit. Lately, it had been difficult to concentrate on the project and on the event, but his school was counting on him, and he didn’t want to disappoint anyone, especially his parents.

  He felt like a raging tornado inside. His parents told him that it was wrong to hate, but how was he suppose to like someone who would throw his Dad in jail and try and take his brother away? He was certain that his Dad didn’t like this Royce Jamison guy either, although he wouldn’t admit to it. The most he could get him to say was that Jamison wasn’t one of his favorite people. In grown-up talk that meant that he hated him, too.

  At the top of the hill, Colin stopped and looked down at the scene before him. It was perfect. The blue sky was cloudless, and even the ripples in the sea appeared to be calm. It all looked so peaceful, but there was no peace in his world.

  Colin continued walking. He was glad that he had his Dad to talk to about this. His friends really wouldn’t understand. All they could think or talk about was girls. Yet, he did have to admit that thinking about the new girl, Ayanna, had been taking up a lot of his time lately. Her name had to be the prettiest one in the world. She told him in her lyrical accent that it meant happy, versatile, expressive in nature, but even her name wasn’t half as beautiful as she was.