Forgotten Sins (Sin Brothers, #1)(104)

What kind of an alley smelled like honeysuckle?

He’d been stabbed two days ago, and the staples he’d used had all but fallen out. But he’d had to get as far away as possible from what must now be a bloody crime scene.

Two of the men who’d jumped him would never jump, must less breathe, again. The other two might wish for death when they awoke. How the hell had they found him?

His phone had been damaged in the fight, and he’d had no choice but to continue on his mission, hop on his bike, and ride three states over. Out of their reach.

Time to break into one of the businesses and call his brothers.

He shrugged off his leather jacket and glanced at his destroyed shirt.

A door opened several yards down. He stiffened, reaching for the knife in his boot. At 3 a.m., nobody should be in the alley.

“Eugene?” a female voice whispered.

That tone shivered right down his spine. Sexy and frustrated, the tenor promised heated nights. He’d always had a thing for a woman’s husky voice.

So he turned his head.

She stood in the moonlight in a compact yoga outfit, her mahogany hair up in one of those clips. Damn, he’d love to let that mass fly.

Maybe blood loss was getting to him.

“Eugene?” the woman called again, holding the door open with her hip. “Your walk should be finished by now, and enough is enough. Your moodiness is getting to me.”

Who the hell was Eugene? It was just a matter of seconds before the woman noticed Matt, and he didn’t have the energy to fight the mysterious Eugene.

She gasped when she saw him.

Great. Now she’d run inside and call the police.

Except she didn’t.

The woman rushed toward him, dropping to her knees. “Oh my God. You’re hurt.” She swallowed several times and levered away. Her eyes were the color of an emerald he’d stolen from a Colombian drug lord years ago while on a mission. “I’ll call an ambulance.”

He grabbed her arm, careful not to break the delicate bones. “I’m fine.” Pressing his other palm against the brick, he shoved himself up and helped her along. “Though I could use an aspirin.”

She stilled and then looked up, way up, toward his face. “Um—”

He tried to smile. “I won’t hurt you.” Yeah, right. He was at least a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier than her, found bleeding in her alley. All he needed was duct tape and a ski mask to be a bigger threat to somebody so small.

“Right.” She swallowed and shook her arm free. “You’re harmless. Anybody could see that.” She stepped back.

He grinned. Damn, she was cute. He tilted his head toward his motorcycle. “I’ll just get on and leave you alone. Sorry to scare you.”

She frowned and rubbed her forehead as she eyed the bike. “Did you fall?”

“Yes,” he lied smoothly. “Hit a pothole and basically landed on my head. I was tired and not watching the road.”

Indecision crossed her classic face. She leaned forward to eye the tattoo on his arm. “You were in the marines?”

“Yes.” Yet another lie. He’d been undercover as a U.S. marshal, then as a marine, and the tat was temporary.

“Oh.” She exhaled. “My brother was a marine.”

“Was?”

“Yes. He didn’t make it home.”

Matt’s chest thumped. Hard. “I lost a brother, too.” Finally, a truth he could give her. “Hurts like hell and always will.” Of course, it was his fault Jory was dead, and he’d been paying for it since. Some souls were meant to be damned.

She sighed. “Well, I can’t just leave an ex-marine in the alley. Come in and we can get you cleaned up, but if you’re injured too badly, I’m calling an ambulance.” She levered under his arm, her slender shoulders straightening to assist him.

Intrigue and an odd irritation filtered through him. “You shouldn’t help strange men, sweetheart.”

“All men are strange.” The grin she flipped him warmed him in places he thought would always be frozen. “Besides, I’m armed.”

There wasn’t a place for a weapon in her little yoga outfit. But he nodded anyway, happy to be getting indoors. “Okay. Then I’ll behave.” Then he paused. Perhaps he should let her call for medical help, considering he was in town to find a doctor. The woman he’d been searching for the last five years. But he wanted to be on his game when he found the bitch. “What about Eugene?”

His rescuer bit her lip. “I’m sure he’ll be along shortly.”

Who the hell was Eugene? Matt tuned in his senses but failed to hear any footsteps. A couple argued several blocks away about who should drive home. They both slurred their words, so neither should drive.

Matt released the woman and forced his feet to move toward his bike. He’d lost too much blood. “Do you mind if I park my bike inside? I’d hate for anybody to steal my baby.”

She chuckled. “In Charmed, Idaho? Nobody will take your big motorcycle.” Yet she opened the doorway wide. “You can park just inside to the left.”

He rolled the bike inside a small storage room holding toiletries and cleaning supplies. “What’s your name?”

“Laney.” She locked the door and gestured him toward a doorway. “Let’s get you that aspirin.”