Saved by a Sinner

by A G Henderson

  His eyes met mine. If he was bothered by the blade to his neck or the teeth baring snarl I wore, he didn’t act like it.

  Come on, damn it. Rage. Yell. Overpower me. Give me a reason!

  I pressed harder, threatening to break skin.

  “We’ve been here before, haven’t we? Years ago.” Carlos smirked. “Either kiss me, cut me, or let me go. But make up your mind, sweetheart, I’m already getting a kink in my neck.”

  A yell of frustration escaped my throat, the most noise I had made in months. But I didn’t cut him.

  And I didn’t know why.

  ***

  No, I didn’t run. But I did engage in a tactical retreat, claiming one of the empty offices down the hall from Carlos where I spent the last two hours going over his bookwork.

  Yes, he provided it all without me having to ask. Within minutes of me settling in and thinking through my next move, interns had started coming in with arms so full they struggled beneath the load. Now, there was a giant stack of files in cardboard boxes going back to the day they opened the doors.

  Yes. It annoyed me to no end that he was being so damn cooperative.

  What was he playing at?

  What was his angle?

  He had one, everyone did.

  So what end-game was worth the risk of getting his carotid slit in the middle of his own office?

  A triple knock sounded at the door and I looked up to find Erin leaning against the frame.

  For obvious reasons, I wasn’t a fan of closed doors and the need to let people know they were invited inside. There was a singular purpose for the bamboo curtain in the entryway of my room back at the Sinner’s club house.

  “Is it safe?” She stepped in without waiting for an answer. Guess she had grown her spine back.

  My jaw tightened as she clipped across the office, hips swaying in her form fitting skirt. I’d hated her on sight for reasons I wasn’t going to analyze. My oh so sunny disposition hadn’t changed in the last couple of hours either.

  Erin sat down across from me, crossing one knee over the other. The self assured, bitchy secretary look would’ve worked better if I hadn’t already seen her eyes wide with fear. I had no interest in engaging in a cat fight over a man I didn’t want so I ignored her, turning a page in the file I was reading instead.

  I actually preferred staring at thousands of numbers until I went cross eyed over having this conversation. Maybe I should've switched the role I had given Tone and taken to the streets instead. Then again, I stood by the instinct telling me if anyone was going to figure out Carlos, it would be me.

  Metal clicked on the table and I glanced up to find the knife I left in her desk in front of me. My brows popped. “Surprised you managed to remove it with those scrawny arms.” I didn't know why I was being so bitchy. It wasn't like me. My insult didn't even fit. Our builds were fairly similar.

  Her mouth formed an O and I recognized I was maybe going a bit far and should have felt a little bad. But acknowledgement was still a long way from caring.

  “Sheathe the claws, girlfriend,” she said. “I just figured you would want it back. That's all.”

  “And look at that, there it is. It's like magic. You can fuck off now.”

  Her expression chilled considerably but she didn't move.

  “That's all, huh? So why are you still here?”

  “Whatever your damage is, it doesn't give you the right to treat people like shit,” she said hotly. “I've done nothing to you. Neither has Carlos.”

  “You want to lecture me on my behavior when your boss rubs shoulders with rapists and serial killers?” My knuckles popped from how tightly I gripped the marker.

  There was a distinct lack of shock on her face, and as my blood heated to a boil, I wondered if threatening people at knife point three times in one day would be too much.

  “He can be every bit as ruthless but only towards those that deserve it. He isn't like them.”

  “Bullshit. Like father, like son.”

  Erin worried at her lip, confidence faltering. “He doesn't talk about the rest of his family much. You knew his dad?”

  Santino was long dead, but with a thought, memories I worried I would never be rid of came floating through my skull. I could hear the ghost of his mocking laughter. See the specter of his cruel grin. Feel the death like grip of his hand buried in my hair while the poison of his words burned against my skin.

  It was a small mercy he never deemed me good enough for his brand of personal attention. But it wasn't the violation of my body that kept me awake for days on end, watching the single entrance to my small cell. The violation of my will was what I always carried with me, and that could be squarely laid at his feet.

  He took my choice away. For the injustice done to me, I hoped the slow death I’d watched Creed give him was happening on a loop as he burned in hell.

  “You're trying to dig up shit you're not ready for.” I wasn't ready for it either, if I was being honest. Today especially. It was too raw. Too real. “I suggest quitting while you're ahead.”

  Erin huffed, folding her arms. “Has anyone ever told you you're about as prickly as a porcupine?”

  My lips twitched in spite of myself. She sounded like Tex.

  “Aha!” Erin pointed at me, doing a little shimmy in her chair. “You do have an expression other than: move, bitch before I stab you. That's good to know.”

  I rolled my eyes and glanced at the stack of boxes I had to go through.

  This is going to be a long week.

  CHAPTER 6 - Sylvia

  The rattling sound of the highlighter I was shaking at high speeds echoed in my ear with the call of impending doom.

  I pulled it away and stared at it like I could will it back to life. Now was the perfect time for my alter ego to kick in. Dr. Penstein, certified in marker resurrection. The only things missing were a laboratory and lightning, because I was pretty sure I could pull off turning my head to the sky and laughing maniacally.

  Silent, maniacal laughter anyway, but half of it was in the crazed expression and I had that shit down to a science.

  Hoping against hope, I shook the highlighter once more and pressed it to the page.

  One measly blob of yellow covered the black followed by a dry screech as the tip drug across paper doing absolutely nothing. I sighed in resignation before tossing the useless piece of junk across the office towards the trash can.

  Making the shot would've made me feel better if it hadn't landed on top of a verifiable graveyard of previous highlighters, the whole lot of them sucked dry from overuse.

  I spun my chair around and grabbed my satchel, futilely digging through it. There were many sins etched on the scarred tablet of my soul I would willingly own up to. Junkiness wasn’t one of them. Put that at Tanner’s feet. The man’s room was covered in so much useless junk it was a miracle he could find anything. About the only thing his space was good for was the comfortable, worn down couch we had spent many nights watching movies on.

  But I was getting off topic.

  Letting distractions keep me from acknowledging the awful, honest truth.

  I didn’t have another highlighter.

  Fuck. My. Life.

  Three days of relative peace had lulled me into a false sense of security, otherwise I would’ve realized the box I bought after the initial disaster was almost empty.

  Other than Erin, the walking, talking cheerleader slash babysitter for the three brothers, no one bothered me. Of course, she took it upon herself to come by twice as often to make up for the slack. Giving people the silent treatment worked so much better when they weren’t content to fill the silence by themselves.

  How she found time to catch me up on the most pointless pieces of office gossip while managing three sets of emails, phone calls, and appointments, I would never know.

  I had a good reason for not intensifying my threats towards her. It had nothing to with how clear she’d made her lack of involvement with Carlos.
r />   Nope.

  Nothing at all.

  Which brought me back to why I was having a crisis over being out of bright, yellow ink.

  I was going to have to wander out of the relative safety of my office to get to the supply closet. Was it almost midnight? Yes. It wasn’t nearly as helpful as you might think.

  Carlos was a full blown workaholic. No matter how late I stayed, the light in his office was always on when I got ready to leave. Usually, I felt him watching me go as I hurried by. Outside of annoyingly polite head nods, he had been giving me a surprising amount of space. A careless amount, really, considering my entire purpose for being here was to find a reason - any excuse really - to destroy him.

  And instead of speeding that process along, you’re hiding.

  I hated when my inner voice was right.

  Before I could second guess myself, I stood, smoothing my hands down the tight, black jeans I was wearing. Dressing like I belonged in an office pulling in multiple millions would’ve staved off some of the odd looks I received coming and going, but I couldn’t do it. I was a jeans and boots and knives kind of girl.

  Plus, it gave me a vindictive jolt of satisfaction whenever I imagined Carlos trying to explain to his employees why there was a pierced, silent figure in their midst.

  I stepped out into the hall, checking my corners automatically. The coast looked clear and I allowed myself a quick sigh of relief. From that point on, each step was measured. Silent.

  Ninjas have nothing on me.

  The sweet feeling of victory was well within my grasp when I got out into the main lobby and saw his office. Closed as usual. Blinds shut. Lights on. It was a straight shot to the supply closet.

  Then I was led astray.

  A rich, deep aroma that could only belong to the world’s most perfect, dark roast coffee floated to my nose.

  I veered off course sharply, heading towards the break room. Whoever had left a pot brewing this late was my brand new hero. They needed a plaque.

  To...Tim, the office paladin. He stood firm in the face of darkness and brewed the cup to end all-

  I swung around the door into the break room and nearly screeched to a halt.

  Carlos was leaning on the countertop beside the coffee machine, pouring the precious nectar into a black mug. I barely recognized him without his suit jacket but I caught on quickly as to why he never removed it. His pressed, white dress shirt did nothing to hide the flawlessly built shoulders and chest beneath it. The halfway rolled up sleeves were doing an outrageously good job of showing off each bulge, divot and vein in his chiseled forearms.

  No one would get anything done if he walked around like that on a regular basis. Unfortunately, I had to count myself among that significant number. Regardless of how my heart and brain felt about him, my body liked what it was seeing.

  Liked it a lot, apparently, going by the flush of heat that registered before I could suppress it.

  “Sylvia.” My name rolled off his tongue with ease as he topped his cup off and turned to face me. I was torn between focusing on him or the half full pot going back on top of the burner.

  Carlos won out.

  Over coffee.

  That’s not good.

  I clenched my fists, nails biting into the meat of my palms. The pain helped clear my mind and I crossed the room towards him. There was no other choice at this point. I could still justify the last time I had turned my back on him as a planned retreat.

  Doing it again? Running, plain and simple. I didn’t run.

  “Can I offer you a cup?”

  I ignored him, moving to his other side and reaching up to dig through the cupboards. There wasn’t a single mug. Because why the fuck would fate have mercy on me now when it never had before?

  Carlos cleared his throat and I let the door fall closed to reveal him standing there, wearing his classic smirk, ebony mug held to his lips. He blew at the steam rising towards his face and I swear I felt it sweep across my skin. There was an ivory mug in his outstretched palm, and I stared at it for a second like it was poison. There was a precedent for taking the offerings from a villain, usually in the form of an apple.

  I could’ve said no to an apple.

  Biting my lip, I carefully wrapped my hands around it. Our fingers brushed as the cup exchanged hands and I startled at the feel of his warm skin, nearly splashing myself with scalding hot liquid.

  You got what you came for. Kind of. Now walk away.

  “Find anything interesting today in your hunt for wrongdoing?” His stupid smirk was so annoying and confident. A hint of worry tapped me on the shoulder, prodding me to acknowledge the possibility that I might be wrong.

  I shook my head before it occurred to me I shouldn’t be answering. Needing to hide my grimace at the careless mistake, I looked down and raised the mug to my lips, blowing along the top of it the same way he’d done. Pain and I were best friends, but a burnt tongue remained a special kind of discomfort.

  Carlos didn’t bother pretending he wasn’t watching me like a hawk. His eyes were a physical weight pressing down on my skin, and I was all too aware of it when I took the first sip and softly moaned at the magnificent taste hitting my palate.

  He chuckled darkly, a sound significantly more crime lord than businessman. I blamed the warm feeling curling around in my chest on the hot coffee. Yep. No other reason for it.

  “You didn’t say thank you.” My eyes flicked back up to find his dancing across my lips before meeting mine. “I think my feelings might be hurt.”

  I tapped my piercing against my teeth. He had a point. It wasn’t like being openly hostile was getting me anywhere, either.

  Was it time to change tactics? I lacked the acting skills to pretend we could ever be best buds, but would it actually kill me not be violently caustic?

  Thank you. I mouthed the words, lacking the means to write anything down.

  He smiled and it was devastatingly brilliant. “You’re welcome. Does this mean we have a truce?”

  I held a hand out from my mug and seesawed it back and forth.

  “Temporarily?” I nodded. “I can work with that. If I knew all it took to get you to stop scowling at me was a cup of coffee, I would’ve made something happen sooner.”

  I scoffed and shook my head. He thought any old cup would do? Nah. He was lucky this one had been brewed to the pinnacle of perfection.

  Part of me wanted to tell him so, and ask where he got the grounds from. The urge was strong enough my mouth opened before I snapped it shut, teeth clicking together. An action he didn't miss. Stupid, sexy, perceptive man.

  Carlos put his mug down and leaned further back against the countertop, crossing thick arms over his chest. The pose was a relaxed one. His sudden intensity was anything but. I stiffened, bracing myself for whatever put that look on his face.

  “You’re not actually mute, are you?”

  I froze, debating on my answer. It wasn’t exactly a secret. Nor could I could I think of anything I would lose if he knew such a minor detail.

  Nope.

  “Hmmm.” He took the news with the same ease as everything else and I couldn't help but frown.

  I waited for him to launch an interrogation. Surely, he was going to poke and prod to find out why. People always did. Except Carlos only nodded in acknowledgement before lapsing into silence.

  I was content to stand there and drink my coffee while I watched him. It gave me time to poke at the puzzle of his motivations. He should be trying to run me out of here and he wasn’t. The only way that made a lick of sense was if he wanted something from me. But what?

  My gaze landed on his lips and I shifted my stance, propping my hip against the counter. I couldn't help thinking about the other day. I held a knife to his face and he dared me to kiss him. What breed of crazy bastard was he?

  He could walk down the street and pick any woman he wanted.

  So why flirt with one with my kind of damage? It was stupid. And if I didn’t know anything els
e about him, I knew he wasn’t dumb.

  Carlos stood upright suddenly, glancing at his watch. “I have a proposal for you.”

  If he dares me to kiss him again, will I? Just to see. Just to know.

  I shook my head violently, trying to dislodge the wayward and highly unwelcome thoughts.

  His brows drew together. “I didn’t even ask yet.”

  There was no easy way to translate: ‘I’m trying to purge thoughts of you from my traitorous brain.’ So I settled for motioning him to continue.

  “Have a late dinner with me. I haven’t eaten in hours.”

  Now was the time for violent protest. Yet to my utter shame and horror, my stomach decided it was time to rumble loudly instead, reminding me I’d only had a peanut butter, jelly, and banana sandwich early in the afternoon.

  Carlos grinned at my mortified expression. “That sounded a lot like a yes to me. Before you change your mind,” he added. “How about I sweeten the deal?”

  I drained the last of my mug and put it down but I didn’t walk away. I should have. Given the effect he already had on me, I should’ve been straddling my bike and rocketing back to Oakdale so someone whose thoughts weren’t compromised could take my place. Instead, I found myself waiting for what he was about to say.

  “Join me, and I promise to answer any three questions you ask, honestly, as long as they aren’t potentially incriminating for me or the Cartel.”

  So, personal questions only. Plus, his word didn’t mean a damn thing to me. But the best lies always contained pieces of the truth. If I was going to get to the bottom of this, I couldn’t be picky on how those pieces landed on my board.

  What’s the catch? I really needed something to write with. Him staring at my lips to read my words felt too intimate.

  He shrugged. “Who said anything about a catch?” My nose crinkled in disbelief and his lip curved. “Fine. I answer your three questions under the condition that at the end of the night, I can ask you to do one thing.”

  Ice water chilled my veins and I took two steps back, mind spinning. To my surprise, the unassailable calm he wore cracked and vanished. Honey eyes went dark with anger that raised the hairs on the back of my neck.