Sinner's Creed (Sinner's Creed #1)(11)

Shady could get intel on anyone. He was a beast with a computer. If we needed leverage, Shady arranged it. If we needed nonexistent knowledge, Shady found it. And if we needed a number, an address, or a name, Shady had it. I performed the job, and he supplied me with the information. We were a team. But today, my teammate was pissing me off.

“What the f*ck you mean she’s leavin’?” I bark into the phone. I’m in Utah, crashing at a clubhouse, three days from Jackson and he calls to hit me with this.

“I mean she just booked a one-way flight to Del Rio. And, Miss Saylor has also arranged to be picked up and transported across the border. She is going to Meh-he-co.” He was enjoying this, but I didn’t have time to be pissed at him. Saylor was leaving. Mexico wasn’t a place for a girl like her. I don’t know why she wants to go, all I know is that she can’t.

“When does she leave?” This time, I’m not growling. I’m not barking or spitting or roaring. I’m whispering. It’s all I can manage. His news has hit me so hard in the chest that I can’t even catch my breath. Am I hyperventilating? No f*cking way. I smoked too much. I knock the cherry from my cigarette and put it in my pocket. I had to quit.

“Because I knew you’d freak out and because my birthday is coming up and I want a decent f*cking present and a hug because I have mommy issues, I made sure the only available booking was for Friday. That gives you four days, in case you can’t do the math.” I should thank him. Hell, I want to. But that would only fuel his fire, and that f*cking inferno doesn’t need to get any bigger. He is already enjoying this too much.

“Watch her,” I tell him, finding my voice and my bike.

—

It took three full days of hard riding, but I finally find myself standing outside Saylor’s apartment door. I hope she is pissed. I hope she is so mad at me that she starts beating the shit outta me. I will gladly drop to my knees and let her pummel my face to her heart’s content, then stitch up her hands before I leave. That is what I deserve. She needed me. She begged for me and I left her. I couldn’t have taken her to Jackpot, but I could have figured something out.

I haven’t slept in two days, but I’m not tired. My body is pumping with adrenaline at just the thought of seeing her. It’s like I’m possessed. Like I have been put under a spell. I kept the images of Saylor outta my head when I left her, but on my way back, she was all I saw. It’s noon here and Shady assures me she is home. I pound on the door and I hear her voice a few seconds later.

“Who is it?” She sounds hoarse, like she has been screaming. The thought of her screaming from pain has my blood boiling. The thought of her screaming from pleasure that someone else gave her has me wanting to kick the f*cking door down and kill whoever is inside.

“Open the door,” I spit through clenched teeth. I wait on the questions to begin: Why? What do you want? But, instead I hear the slide of the dead bolt before she opens the door wide. On the outside, I am stone-faced. I know I’m wearing that intimidating, murderous look I wear so well, but on the inside, I can’t f*cking breathe.

Her hair is piled on top of her head and sticking in every direction. She wears black, square-framed glasses, a blue, sleeveless T-shirt that is just long enough to cover her navel, and the sexiest little pink satin panties I have ever f*cking seen. “You came back.” She looks at me like I’m a ghost. Like the last person in the world she expected to see was me. “Sometimes all you need is a mustard seed of faith.” She is talking to herself but her words hit home to me. I should tell her faith is a dangerous thing. I should tell her that it will make her weak. But I won’t.

When she smiles at me, thoughts of my past disappear and I just want to touch her. “I can’t believe you’re here,” she says, and even though her voice is dry and raspy, it’s so soothing that I close my eyes.

I hear movement behind me and push inside and slam the door. I don’t want anyone seeing this goddess but me. My eyes are not worthy of her, but the neighbor’s sure as hell ain’t. I can’t help it. If I was a saint and was sentenced to hell for this one crime, then I would gladly do my time, but I can’t go another minute without having her in my arms. I can sit here and process how stupid I am, or how this adds a new level of f*cked-up to my life, but I don’t.

I drop my bag to the floor, grab her around her waist, and lift her to me. She wraps her legs around my hips, her arms around my neck, and welcomes me into her embrace. She smells better than I remember. She looks better than I remember and I lick the shell of her ear and she f*cking tastes better than I remember.

I know I smell. I haven’t had a shower in days, but I don’t care. I just need to hold her, touch her, and be near her. I’m not pissed and my mind is not racing with thoughts to kill. I’m content and it’s never f*cking happened before and I don’t give a shit what my mind is telling me; that dead heart in my chest is telling me I like it.

As I hold her tight to me, I can feel my adrenaline draining and fatigue taking over my body. I can feel everything shutting down. I need sleep and I need her. I walk through the small, neat apartment and find a bedroom that I know is hers. It has to be. There is a picture above the bed of a sunset.

I try to lay her down, but she doesn’t let go of me. Fuck yes. She wants me. She missed me. She isn’t pissed at me and she doesn’t hate me. She wants to stay in my arms and I’d sleep in a straitjacket if it meant that tight grip she has on my neck stays there.