A Necessary Sin (The Sin Trilogy, #1)(18)

“You just threatened the deputy chief constable of the organized crime unit.” Buchanan’s hand moves down Bleu’s arm to her leg. “I could take you in for that alone.”

He’s threatening Bleu. I’m sure she’s frightened but I’m not. I move toward him, prepared for what might happen next. “I said, take your hand off her.”

I don’t take a full step toward them before Bleu goes for his balls. I see the rotation of her wrist and know exactly what’s she’s doing. Buchanan yells out in pain and drops to his knees. “Take me in if you like. I’d rather enjoy hearing the tale you’d weave about how a young American female tourist came to have your balls twisted in a dance club.”

I don’t take another step because I see that my assistance isn’t necessary. Bleu’s totally got this.

“Let go!” he hisses through clenched teeth.

Bleu releases him and he falls against the floor into the fetal position. She swings her legs around and steps over him as she gets out of the booth. “I believe I’ve been delighted by his presence long enough.”

She loops her arm through mine as we exit the club. It’s surprising. She seems to be taking the news of my crime-family background rather well, as she isn’t running away. Maybe she thinks it’s bullshit.

We’re driving to her flat and I’m waiting for her to bring up the things Buchanan said. She doesn’t disappoint. “Is that stuff true? Are you part of an organized crime family? Or organization? Or whatever that jackass was talking about?”

I guess I could lie. She knows no one in these parts so she’d probably never be privy to the reality but I find I prefer to tell her the truth. Nothing about her is typical so I’m curious to see her reaction. And test her. “My father is the patriarch of our family and an organization called The Fellowship. Some people call us a gang. We’ve been referred to as mobsters or Mafia. I don’t care for any of those names. We’re Scotsmen—not Italians—so clan or kinship is much more fitting.”

“Do you do those things he accused you of? Lie? Steal?” She hesitates before saying the last. “Kill?”

“I’m in the business of boundaries and limits. I’m aware of what mine are and how far I’m willing to go to get my job accomplished. It can include lying and sometimes stealing.” I wait a moment for driving the last nail into the coffin. “And perhaps the occasional killing.”

“How do you feel when you do those things?”

“Powerful.” I purposely choose that word because it’s the one she used to describe how she felt when she brought Duff to his knees. I want her to see just how similar we are.

She watches out the window for a minute before speaking again. “Do you like the way it feels?”

I can’t lie. I get a high from it. “Very much.”

Another minute passes. “Okay.”

What? “Just … okay?”

“Would you like me to be horrified?” she asks. “I can do that if it would make you feel better or improve your opinion of me.”

She’s no f*cking Pollyanna. So I guess there’s no reason for her to pretend to be. “No. Okay works for me.”

I’m not sure if I should be disturbed by her lack of appall. It feels like a double standard to be shocked by an absence of dismay.

My God, has the pot met the kettle? “I wish I could get inside your head.”

“No, you don’t,” she says. “My mind is a dark place to be.”

I think I may have met the perfect woman. In her eyes, I’m not a monster at all.





Chapter Seven





Bleu MacAllister




I stop when we reach my front door. My hand pressed against Sin’s chest is my signal for him to understand he won’t be coming in. “Thank you for tonight. I had a very good time.”

“Again?” He sighs and rubs his hands down my arms. “I’m not invited to come inside?”

I grin while shaking my head. “You aren’t ready.”

“I suspect it’s you who isn’t ready because I know for damn sure I am.” He’s going to kiss me. I know he is. “I promise I’ll make you feel good.”

He’s trying so hard. It’s sort of sweet in a way, even though he is trying to get me into bed. “I have no doubt you will, but it won’t be tonight.”

“I want to kiss you.” He comes closer, invading my personal space. “That’s something I never have a desire to do.”

I suppose one kiss won’t hurt. It’s probably a good idea to throw a dog a bone, even if it’s a small one.

I hold up one of my fingers. “One bite of the apple. That’s all you get.”

The corner of his mouth turns up and a small dimple appears. I’ve not noticed that until now. It’s sexy as hell.

My God, he’s a handsome devil.

His eyes are beautiful, like melted dark chocolate.

His hands go to my waist and pull me tightly against him. Our mouths are impossibly close yet not touching. We make a sport of it, almost like tug of war. One advances, the other retreats. We alternate until his lips finally brush mine and it’s a game to me no more. I want to taste him.