Complete Sin Box Set

by Georgia Cates

  I get up from the table and go to the restroom. I pat my face with a cool, wet paper towel and breathe in deeply and slowly.

  I must’ve been in the restroom for a while when I hear a knock at the door. “Bonny? Are you all right ?”

  “I’m fine. Give me another minute and I’ll be out.”

  Of course, he hasn’t returned to his seat when I open the door. He’s standing there waiting for me.

  I’m pissed off so I walk past him but he grabs my arm. I yank it from his grasp. “You’re a total ass for doing that. I told you that stuff made me sick.”

  He cups his palm around my cheek. “Are you going to be okay?”

  I’ve always had a strange aversion to some types of meats and the medication I take for my insulin resistance with the polycystic ovarian syndrome isn’t helping. “It’s debatable, thanks to you.”

  “I’m sorry. I thought we were having fun. I had no idea it would make you feel ill.” He puts his curled finger under my chin and lifts, forcing me to look at him. “How can I make it better?”

  “I’d like some water with more than five ice cubes.” No way I can look at that stuff again. “And have those plates taken away from the table.”

  “They’re already gone.” He loops his arm through mine and leads me back to the table. “She needs water over a full glass of ice, please.”

  I feel somewhat better after a few sips. “I think I’m okay now.”

  He cups his hand over mine. “We can tour the city together another day if you don’t feel well.”

  “I’m really fine. It’s passed.”

  “I promised you not even two hours ago I was going to take care of you and now you’re ill as a result of something I did. I feel bad about that.” He shakes his head as he looks down at his hand covering mine. “That doesn’t instill huge confidence about my ability to care for you.”

  “It was a piece of haggis—not the end of the world. And I take medicine for the ovarian stuff. It’s a diabetic medication for insulin resistance. It often nauseates me so it’s likely that contributed as well.” I lean forward and grasp the back of his neck, pulling him close for a kiss, not giving a damn who’s watching. I press my forehead to his. “Not another word about it,” I whisper. “Got it?”

  He nods, causing my head to move with his. “Got it.”

  We leave Royal McGregor’s, walking hand in hand up the steep incline of the Royal Mile. We go into several shops along the way but most are full of souvenirs and things you buy when you know you’re leaving soon. I can’t bring myself to purchase anything because it feels symbolic of my approaching departure.

  “MacAllister is Scottish. Have you ever studied your genealogy?”

  Harry has done some research into his family tree but I’m not a MacAllister by blood, so none of what he has learned applies to me. “No.”

  “You should. I bet you’d find some interesting facts.”

  “I should. I have lots of free time on my hands, being a claimed woman and all.” I feel a few scattered raindrops against my face. I look to the sky. It’s suddenly dreary, the complete opposite of the way it looked only fifteen minutes ago. I’ve learned that’s typical weather for these parts. “Looks as though we’re going to get wet.”

  “It rarely lasts for long. If it becomes heavy, we’ll duck into a store or covered alley until it clears.”

  The raindrops fall faster as we trudge up the hill. “I’m glad I didn’t work on my hair and makeup for an hour.”

  “You’re beautiful without all the fuss.” He gives me a crooked grin. “Come on. I know a place we can go.”

  He leads me into a dark, cool alley with seats burrowed into the stone. “We’ll wait here until it stops.” He fidgets with my hand, running his thumb back and forth across the top.

  “Will you tell me about losing your leg?” The records I have about Sin’s shooting are obviously incorrect since none mention an amputation.

  “What do you want to know about it?” Everything.

  “What were the circumstances?

  “I was ambushed by a rival alliance called The Order. They had uzis. My leg was no match for that. It was barely hanging on when I arrived at the emergency room. There was no saving it.” That sounds gruesome. And it’s the kind of danger he faces on a regular basis.

  “I don’t understand how you’ve kept it secret.”

  “It wasn’t difficult. Dad sent me to Lucerne for months. I was rehabilitated by the best doctors in Europe. I could walk almost flawlessly by the time they finished my physical therapy.”

  “It must have been awful.” He never exhibits signs of PTSD. I wonder if he sees a therapist.

  “It wasn’t pleasant.”

  I never suspected before I knew. “I notice times when your gait changes. But it’s only because I know.”

  “The stump bothers me from time to time.”

  “Thank you for sharing this with me.”

  He rubs his thumb over my hand again. “I was thinking we might go for drinks later.”

  “But not Duncan’s?”

  “I’m afraid not. We’ll need to find a different drinking hole.”

  I look at the street. He’s right. The rain didn’t last long. “Looks like it’s stopped.”

  I’m almost disappointed. I like hiding in this little cubby with Sin, away from the rest of the world. “I do believe you’re right.”

  We leave the refuge of our hiding place. We resume our former path along High Street toward Edinburgh Castle and come up on a line of sidewalk vendors. There is a wide variety of goods and services but one in particular catches my eye: a psychic medium.

  People claiming to be able to communicate with the dead and see the future have always interested me, mostly because I like observing how they read people. I don’t believe in them for a second but I’d like to see how this one will take my words and reactions and use them to facilitate what she should say next. “I want the psychic to read me.”

  “Don’t tell me you believe in fortunetellers.”

  “Of course not. It’s for entertainment purposes only.” He looks none too excited, so I grab his hand and give it a yank. “Come on. It’ll be fun.”

  We go over to her table and the lady smiles. “Mornin’ to you. Would you like a reading?”

  “Yes.” A real psychic would already know that. “How much?”

  “Twenty pounds for one or thirty for the both of you.”

  “Both, please.” I have faith Sin won’t be easily manipulated, so I want to see how she’ll pull this off.

  “I agreed to come over with you, not participate.”

  “Sorry. I’ve already paid for you.” I look at the psychic and smile. “He’s going first.”

  “Take a seat.” She gestures toward the stool opposite her.

  Sin stares daggers at me but does as she asks. “I’ll remember this later and so will you.”

  “I’m Mary.”

  “I’m…”

  “No,” she quickly interrupts. “Don’t tell me anything.” Hmm… that’s unexpected. “Have you ever been to a medium or psychic before?”

  “No,” we answer in unison.

  She positions a notepad and prepares to write. “I communicate with those on the other side using a sixth sense. It isn’t always exact so a lot of times I must interpret the things I see, feel, and sense.” Of course it isn’t an exact science. If it were, it could be explained and therefore, she couldn’t milk money out of people. “Any questions before we begin?”

  “No,” Sin replies. I shake my head.

  She puts pen to paper and begins to write a series of numbers. “Do the numbers five, ten, and thirteen mean anything to you?”

  He hesitates before answering. “Aye.”

  “The young girl I see—she was five when she died ten years ago on the thirteenth. Do you understand this?”

  Sin looks up at me, clearly spooked, and then back to Mary. “Aye.”

  “Her name begins with a C. Somet
hing like… Clara.”

  “Cara.”

  “Oh, good.” She sketches a heart dangling from a chain. “And she wore this?”

  “That’s her locket.”

  “Perfect. And this young girl was your sister?”

  Sin brings his hand to his chin and rubs it, something I’ve noticed him do when he’s uncomfortable. “Aye.” He looks up at me and then to Mary. “Who gave you this information?”

  “Cara.”

  “Cara’s dead.”

  “Thus the reason I’m able to communicate with her.” Mary returns her pen to the paper. “It’s hard for me to catch my breath. This is my sign she died with something related to the lungs.” She stops drawing. “A terrible thing was done to that child but she wants you to know she did not suffer.”

  “She was murdered—smothered. We’ve never found out who did it.” Sin appears to be growing more anxious. “I need to know who it was.”

  “I see the shadow of a man in a dark room, her bedroom, I presume, but I can’t make out his face.”

  “Can you tell me anything? Is he young? Old? Tattoos?” Oh my God. He’s actually feeding into this. This woman is damn good.

  “Your sister’s moved on to a different image. That’s my sign telling me she doesn’t want you to dwell upon what happened to her.”

  “What are you seeing now?”

  “You—and you’re happy. She wants you to know you’ll find joy in a family of your own. You’ll have a wife and children, and soon, from the looks of what I’m seeing.”

  What bullshit!

  Mary turns the page of her book. “Are you ready, my dear?”

  I nod but say nothing as Sin stands to switch places with me. “Your mother has passed?”

  Sin knows this but I must be careful about what I admit to so nothing contradicts what I’ve told him. “Yes.”

  “And a mother figure as well.”

  Hmm… if this were real, I’d think she was referring to Julia, my adoptive mom. But because this is a fraud, I can pretend she must be referring to my faux aunt I just lost if need be.

  “Yes.”

  She writes a word and holds the pad for me to read. Bluebird. “Do you understand this?”

  She spelled it wrong. It should be Bleubird, but how could she possibly know? “Yes.”

  “It’s what your mother called you?” She couldn’t possibly know that—except she does.

  “Yes.” I can see how easy it is to feed into this. I must be careful to give away nothing.

  “This is your mother’s way of validating her presence and my ability to communicate with her. She says you’re cynical.”

  I’ll give her that one. “That’s very true.”

  She smiles, maybe as though she’s accepting the challenge, and returns to scribbling in her notebook. She holds the pad up when she’s finished. Chocolate chip cookies. “Do you understand this?”

  “Yes.” My voice breaks and my eyes flood with tears. I feel the supportive touch of Sin’s hand on my shoulder.

  I’m being reeled in because it’s nearly impossible for a random stranger to guess such specific things. I don’t want to believe in her, but I can’t stop myself. “My mom’s okay?”

  “I couldn’t communicate with her if she weren’t.” Mary reaches across the folding table and takes my hands. “Listen carefully, because this is very important. This thing you’re planning to do isn’t going to make you happy. If you go through with it, it’ll eat at you and rob you of the joy you’re supposed to have with your husband and children.”

  The fact that she just called me out on my plan to kill Thane briefly escapes me because I only hear two words. “Husband? Children?” I whisper.

  “Nothing you do will change what happened.” She pats my hand and my body shudders from the chill. “Your mother doesn’t want you to put your future happiness in jeopardy by chasing an empty dream.”

  A single tear rolls down my cheek as I search through my purse for a tip. I’m glad my head is down. I don’t want Sin to see me cry. “Thank you, Mary.”

  We walk without talking for a while before Sin finally breaks the silence. “Could you stand that drink now instead of later?”

  That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day. “Quite honestly, I think I could stand a few.”

  Chapter 20

  Sinclair Breckenridge

  I hold up my empty glass so the bartender may see our need for refills. Two isn’t going to cut it. Bleu nods in agreement and a couple of more Black Labels are sitting in front of us within minutes.

  Neither of us has mentioned what happened with the medium, but I know we’re both spooked.

  I give up on Bleu being the first to broach the subject. “That wasn’t real, right? It had to be a hoax.”

  “The logical side of my brain is trying to convince me it was a ruse but then I have this other side arguing against that. There’s no explanation for how she knew my mother called me Bleubird unless she was for real. And the chocolate chip cookies… how could she know that was something special I did with my mother?”

  “I have no idea.”

  Believing that she’s the real deal means accepting I’ll be married soon. Oddly, hearing that I’ll be happy with a wife and children doesn’t bring me joy—because that life doesn’t include Bleu. My time with her will be over much quicker than I’d like and I’m not excited by that prospect. “I don’t want to think about the things that woman said. All I want to do is drink a lot of whisky and then take you home to our bed.”

  Bleu holds up her glass for a toast. “Agreed.” We toss our whiskies back.

  I lift my empty glass for the bartender to see again. “We’ll take the bottle.”

  A half-full bottle is placed in front of us. I fill our glasses to the rim. “Toast?”

  “Yes.”

  Bleu and I look at one another and I suspect we’re feeling the same. “Here’s to the present.”

  Bleu smiles but it doesn’t touch her eyes. She looks… sad. “To the here and now.”

  Bleu kisses me like crazy as I work to unlock the door. I blindly succeed and we fall through the entrance together. She’s walking backward, pulling me toward the couch. “I want you right now.”

  She leans back against the arm of the couch, pulling me to stand between her parted thighs. Her hand is on the back of my neck and she pulls me down so my mouth meets hers. She’s rougher than usual. I suppose I have the liquor to thank for that.

  Her knees are bent and her legs are wrapped around my waist. I move my palms up her thighs until they’re cupping her bottom. “I love your arse. It’s perfect.”

  She squeezes her legs around me so my groin is pressed hard against hers. “Yours is perfection. I love digging my heels in when you’re between my legs so you’ll fuck me harder.”

  There’s nothing I love more than Bleu urging me on.

  I move my hands from her arse to the front of her shorts. I unfasten the button and tug them, and her knickers, down her legs. They drop to the floor and I kick them away as she reaches for her top, pulling it over her head.

  I pull her forward so her lower back is against the couch arm, her bottom hanging over the edge. I drop to my knee and plant her feet on my shoulders. Her legs are sprawled wide. “You have a way of bringing men to their knees.”

  Her body shudders and a moan leaves her mouth when my tongue slowly drags upward through her center. “Ohh.”

  I sweep my tongue up and down before changing the motion to a circular movement over her clit. I push two of my fingers in with my hand turned palm side up, and use them to stroke her on the inside.

  Turning Bleu on turns me on. This sometimes means I’m not always aware of how fast I’m moving. In this case, it’s a good thing. “That feels… SO good, like a fluttering butterfly in just the right spot. Don’t stop.”

  I wouldn’t dare stop. I love licking Bleu until she comes. “I am so close.” There’s only one thing I love more than making my Bonny Bleu come—tha
t’s knowing I’m the only one to ever have done it.

  I alternate the suction and release of her clit until she arches her back and cries out. “Oh God! Right there. Just like that.” I feel her inner body spasm around my fingers and she calls out my name. “Ohhh, Sin!” Her legs tense, her toes digging into my shoulders.

  Then all goes lax and I know my lass is in post-orgasm bliss. “Good?”

  She’s wiggled down so she’s inverted with her head on the couch cushion. Her eyes are closed and they remain that way. “Mmm-hmm,” she moans.

  She isn’t talking. That means it was very good for her. Perfect.

  I pull my shirt over my head and toss it into the pile of clothes. I unfasten my trousers and push them away before wrapping my hands around her hips to hold her in place. “My turn now.”

  I enter her fast and hard. She always has the same reaction. Gasp. Tense. Relax. I’m quite fond of all three.

  I grasp the soles of her feet and push her legs back and apart. I move in and out of her slowly because the position is so intense. I love the way it feels but I’m a little afraid of hurting her; it feels much deeper than ever before. “Does this feel good for you?”

  She smiles up at me, biting her bottom lip. “Mmm-hmm. I like it.”

  That means I can keep going. “I’m glad because this way feels so good, I didn’t want to stop.”

  I thrust faster and a minute later I feel the onset of an orgasm. I slow my speed in hopes of prolonging the pleasure but it’s too late. Being this deep inside Bleu feels too damn good to not come quickly.

  I don’t know why I try. I’m never able to hold back with her.

  I release her feet and grab her hips to hold her in place. “Ohh, I’m coming.”

  She wraps her legs around my waist and digs her heels into my arse, slamming our pelvises together. There is no beginning and no end. We are one. And then I erupt inside her.

  When my orgasm is over, I notice Bleu grinning. “What are you smiling about?”

  “You have a great come face.” She laughs.

  “I happen to like yours as well. I enjoy seeing it often.”