A Necessary Sin (12 page)

I push Sin’s hair from his forehead. “I’m going to miss you when I’m gone. I truly will.”

B
leu hasn’t been
happy with me in days. She thinks I should have stayed home to recuperate longer. I think differently.

We’re alike in so many ways but this isn’t one of them. I don’t know how to make her understand that this wound is nothing. It was a simple gunshot to my shoulder. I’ve been through so much worse.

“Mr. Breckenridge.” I look up to see my secretary standing at my desk. “Are you feeling all right ?”

“Of course.”

She looks puzzled. “I called your name three times before you responded.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you.”

“You were looking right at me, sir.” I don’t think so. I’d remember looking straight at her while she said my name. “You don’t look like your usual self, Mr. Breckenridge. You’re pale.”

The truth is I don’t feel well. “I could be coming down with something. I think I’ll take the rest of the afternoon off.”

“Take it easy over the weekend,” Heather says. “You’ll be back to a hundred percent by Monday.”

Rest. That’s what I need. “I’ll do that. See you next week.”

I get into my car but the next coherent moment I have is when I realize Sterling is waiting for me to get out of the car. I can’t remember the drive home from work. “Are you all right, sir?” No. I’m not. Something isn’t right.

“I’m fine. That will be all.”

I go into the house and call out for Bleu. I’ve come to know better than to startle her by coming home unannounced. She’d probably throat punch me before I knew what hit me. “Bonny, I’m home early.”

She comes into the living room from the back of the house and I can tell she’s recently come home from her daily run. “Hey. This is a nice surprise. I wasn’t expecting you for a few more hours.”

She’s going to enjoy hearing me admit this. “I fear you were right, Dr. MacAllister. I believe the shooting has finally caught up with me.”

“See? Do you believe that I know what I’m talking about now? You. Need. Rest.”

No way I’m arguing with her. “I think I’ll lie on the couch for a while. Maybe watch some TV.”

“Can I get you anything?”

I shake my head no.

“Then I’m going to get a shower. I’m stinky.” I usually love catching her hot and sweaty so I can help her out of her clothes and into the shower. But not today.

I fall onto the sofa.

“After my shower, I want to show you the pictures I took today.” Her voice fades as she walks toward the bedroom. “They’re magnificent. I think I could sell them to a travel magazine or something like that.” Or maybe she’s fading because I’m drifting.

I
wake
to Bleu calling my name. “Breck! You’re burning up with fever.”

“Hmm … ?” Again, I’m confused.

Hands are touching my face, moving from my cheeks to my forehead and back again. “You’re on fire.”

No, I’m not. I’m shivering because I’m so cold. “I need a blanket. I’m freezing.”

“I’m going to help you up so I can take you to the emergency room.”

I’m not confused about that. “Hell no, you’re not.”

“You’re sick. Bad.”

“I may be but I’m not going to the hospital.” My voice is stern. I’m not in the mood to discuss it.

“Something’s not right about this.”

I curl into a ball so I can get warm. “Call Jamie.”

“Excuse me if I don’t have a lot of faith in his medical care right now.”

I feel dizzy so I cover my eyes using my hand. “Just call Jamie.”

She huffs but takes my phone from my jacket pocket. “It’s Bleu. You need to come see Sin now. He has a really high fever and isn’t feeling well at all.”

She sits on the couch at my feet and rubs my leg. “He’s on his way. How long have you had fever?”

“I have no idea. I was busy today trying to finish up research for a case going to court on Monday. I haven’t had time to think about it.” It suddenly seems important to tell her about my confusion. “I’ve had a couple of incidents today. I guess you could call them memory lapses.”

Her hand stops moving. “What kind of memory lapses?”

“My secretary—she had trouble getting my attention.”

“You said you were busy with an important case. Maybe you were preoccupied.”

“She was standing right in front of me. I apparently stared blankly while she called my name three times. I have no recollection of it.”

“Oh.”

“And I don’t remember the drive home.”

“Infection wouldn’t be unusual after a gunshot wound so I understand the fever and chills but your mental status shouldn’t be affected. That concerns me.”

She isn’t the only one. “Tell no one except Jamie.”

“Not even your parents?”

“Especially my parents.” I don’t want my father to tell Abram I’m not well. He could see it as a perfect opportunity to act out against Bleu a second time. “I mean it. I have important reasons for them not knowing. Not a word.”

“I won’t.”

I lie on the couch waiting for Jamie. I didn’t think it was possible but I feel worse by the time he arrives. “Your temp is 103. How long have you been running a fever?”

“No idea.”

He listens to my chest. “Your respirations and heart rate are faster than they should be. Something’s definitely going on.” He pushes up my pant leg and squeezes my ankle. “You been pissing normally?”

“What constitutes normal?”

“Has the color or amount changed?”

I hadn’t considered that until now. “It’s darker and I’m not going as often.”

“In the very least, you need an IV and antibiotics.”

“Then let’s do it.”

He sits in the chair across from me. “I’d be treating you blindly. You need blood cultures to make sure this isn’t something worse than a simple infection. I don’t have a lab so you’ll need to go to the hospital.”

“Come on, Jamie. You know I can’t go into a hospital.” I haven’t stepped foot in one since the day I was discharged six years ago. I’m not sure I can do it.

“I wouldn’t advise you to go if I thought I could treat you here. I’m sorry but we need to rule out an inflammatory response to infection. I don’t have the things I need for that.”

“Inflammatory response? What does that mean?” Bleu asks.

“It’s a way the body sometimes responds to infection.”

I think this could be something serious but he’s not telling me. “Don’t dance around, bullshitting me with medical jargon. What do you think is happening?”

“Have you experienced any confusion?”

This isn’t good. “I’ve had two incidents.”

I’m not going to like this answer. “I think you’re becoming septic. That means you can’t wait. You must go now so a culture can be done immediately. The results will identify the antibiotic that will best treat your infection.”

This isn’t what I want to hear. I can’t protect Bleu from Abram if I’m lying in a hospital bed. But I guess I can’t if I’m dead, either.

I
’m
certain my condition has worsened by the time we arrive at the hospital. Jamie does all the talking when I’m being assessed, which is a good thing since I’m becoming increasingly confused.

I’m admitted and treatment is started as soon as I’m diagnosed with sepsis. The whole thing happens quickly and I’m concerned about who will watch after Bleu while I’m unable.

“Thane needs to know you’re here and what’s happening.”

Jamie’s right. I can’t keep this from him. “Aye. When you call, will you ask my mum to come to the hospital? I need to talk to her.” I need my mother for the first time in twenty years.

“Aye, I will.”

Jamie leaves and Bleu comes in to sit with me. Neither she nor Jamie mentions it but I know my status is declining rapidly. I recognize it in my inability to concentrate clearly. “I have things to say to you before I’m unable to string two thoughts together.”

She wraps her hand around mine and leans closer. “Okay.”

“If I don’t make it, you need to leave Edinburgh on the first plane out of Scotland and never look back.”

“No!” She sits up, back stiffening, and stares at me. “What are you talking about? You’re not going to die.”

I don’t want to use the last of my coherent time arguing. “Promise me you’ll get out as soon as possible if I meet death.”

She brings my hand to her lips and kisses it. “Yes. I will leave but you’re not dying on me.”

“Bonny, I’m nothing if not realistic. People die from sepsis all the time. I’ve seen it happen to brothers after gunshot wounds.”

“No.” She brings my hand to her face, rubbing against her cheek. “I just found happiness for the first time in my life. There’s no way I’m letting it go.”

“You never lifted the veil.”

“Then I guess you better stick around if you want to learn my secrets.”

“I want to know everything about Bonny Bleu.” She kisses my knuckles and closes her eyes tightly. A single tear slips down her cheek. “I’m not choosing to let go. I’m going to fight but it’s out of my hands.”

She opens her eyes as she laces her fingers through mine and squeezes. “Into me … you see,” she whispers.

I nod and bring our hands up so I can kiss hers. “Into me … you see.”

I hear the sound of someone clearing their voice and discover my parents standing in the doorway. “We can come back after you’re finished talking.”

“No. Please, come in.”

More tears spill from Bleu’s eyes. She cares for me. “I need a moment with my mum and father.”

She wipes the drops away. “Of course.” She stands and leans forward to kiss my forehead. “I’ll just be right outside if you need me.”

I grab the back of her neck and pull her in for a kiss—a real one—since it could be the last time. “I want you to come back in as soon as I’m finished talking.”

“Absolutely.”

My mum sits at my side while Dad stands. “James tells us ye aren’t doing well.” She’s always called him that.

“He’s the doctor,” I say, smiling weakly.

“He says you can make a full recovery,” my father says.

“Or I might die. Flip of a coin.”

“You’re a Breckenridge. You’ll survive this.” I don’t think sepsis cares what my surname is.

I cut straight to why I called them in. “Dad knows about my recent quarrel with Abram but I want you to know as well. He believes Bleu is an informant. He sent Malcolm into my house while I was away—supposedly to scare her into admitting who she’s working for.” I stop for a moment to catch my breath. “I’m not sure I believe that was his true intention but it turned deadly. I led him to believe I killed Malcolm by accident because it was dark and I didn’t recognize him. But that isn’t what happened.” I stop again because my head is dizzy. “He attacked Bleu and she defended herself. She’s the one who killed him.”

“This isn’t good.” Dad sighs. “But Abram doesn’t need to find out differently. It will only add fuel to the fire.”

“That poor lass,” my mum says. “She must’ve been petrified.” I somehow doubt that since she put Malcolm in a chokehold and strangled him.

“I don’t trust him with Bleu.”

“With good reason, it seems,” Mum says.

“Dad, I promised Bleu I would protect her and I can’t do that from this bed. You’re the only one who can if Abram decides to strike while I’m here.”

“I will take care of her for you, son.”

“Mum, I haven’t asked anything of you since I was a child but I am now because I need you. Dad can’t be with her at all times. Please take her into your care. He won’t touch her as long as she’s under your roof.”

“I too will ensure her safety.”

“Thank you.” I feel a burden lifted.

“You care for this lass.” It isn’t a question. “I see it happening before my eyes.”

I’m not sure I could admit the truth if I weren’t straddling life and death. “I do, very much.”

“I never thought I’d see you care for anyone.” I’m aware of the wretched person my mother believes I am.

“It’s unexpected.” I never saw myself caring for any woman.

“She told me it would be very easy to fall in love with ye. I believe she has.” Mum is all smiles. “Do ye love her?”

“Being loved by me will make her a huge target.” Abram won’t be her only threat. “I don’t want to—but I can’t help myself.”

My parents look at one another and then back at me. “We heard what you said to one another. You’ve claimed her?” my dad says.

“I have. And I don’t regret it. I would do it again.”

“Yer wise tae keep it secret. It won’t serve ye well if the brotherhood finds out.”

“I’ve already told her she has to leave immediately if I die. She’ll need you to help her get out safely.”

“Dinnae lie here worrying aboot her well-being. She’s in good hands. Rest and concentrate on recovering.”

It’s strange. I’ve connected with my mum for the first time in my adult life and it’s a direct result of Bleu’s presence in our lives. Another first because of her.

“Please ask Bleu to come back. I need to give her an explanation for why she’ll be staying with you.”

“Ye won’t warn her about Abram?” Mum asks.

“I don’t want to give her a reason to be paranoid around him. That will only make him more suspicious of her.”

My mum comes to me and does something she hasn’t done since I was a child. She hugs me. “I love ye, Sinclair.”

“I love you too.” I can’t recall the last time I heard or said those words.

My mum leaves and she sends Bleu back. “I know you do a damn fine job of protecting yourself but I don’t want you staying alone. I’ve spoken to my parents and you’re going to their house until I’m out of here.”

“I will if it’ll make you feel better.”

No argument? She’s making this very easy. “It’s what I want.”

Good. I’ve ensured her safety. Now, all I have to do is survive.

I
’m not prepared
for how quickly Sin’s condition declines. Within an hour, he’s dependent upon a ventilator to breathe for him because his body can no longer do it on its own. I’m terrified he isn’t going to survive the night.

Oh my God. When did I start to care so much for this son of a bitch? How’s it possible? If I disregard the part about who he is, the reality is that we haven’t known one another long enough for me to be this attached.

I’m able to answer my own question before the thought is fully developed. He isn’t a stranger to me. I’ve studied Liam Sinclair Breckenridge for years. He’s been a part of my life for a long time. I came here knowing everything about him. Almost.

He’s a thief who stole something much more precious than ever before—my heart. I never dreamed in a million years I could fall in love with the son of my mother’s killer. How sick is that? I’m certain there’s no psychological diagnosis to fit how morbid this is.

For so long I’ve wanted to feel what other people feel. Now that I do, I just want it to stop. I would give anything to go back to feeling nothing again.

I’m holding his hand when his critical care nurse comes into the room. “You haven’t left his side in two days. You need rest as well.”

I can’t leave him. What if he wakes up for two minutes and looks for me but I’m not here? “I’ve been sleeping a little here and there.”

“What you’ve been doing can’t be classified as sleep.”

I stroke his hair away from his face. He needs a haircut and his facial scruff could use a trim.

“Have you been together long?”

“Only five weeks but it feels like much longer, as if we’ve known one another forever.” That’s not the whole truth. I’ve been acquainted with him for years. He’s only just met me.

“Have you been talking to him?” she asks.

“No.” That sounds like something a nurturing person would do. That’s not me.

“You should. They can hear you.”

“I don’t know what I’d say.”

“It isn’t about the words. He only needs to hear your voice to know you’re by his side. It can be very reassuring if he’s confused or scared but most importantly, it’s healing.”

I very much doubt the sound of my voice will help to heal him, but it won’t hurt anything, either. “I can try.”

I look at Sin once the nurse is gone and wonder what in the world to say to him. This kind of thing isn’t me. But I’m determined to try if it might help. “Breck. It’s Bleu. I’m here with you. You’re not alone.” I squeeze his hand. “Do you feel that?” I get no response. No grip of his hand or flutter of his eyes.

I move from the chair to his bed and slip in next to him, careful to not tug on any of his tubes or lines. If hearing my voice is good for him, then feeling my touch must be better.

I stroke my knuckles down his unshaven face. “Sinclair Breckenridge. You come back to me right now. Please. I’m here, waiting for you.”

I move my hand to his chest and feel the beat of his heart beneath it. “I want you to listen for my voice through the darkness. Let it bleed through so you can hear me.” I move my fingers to his inked Celtic shield of protection. “I’m not letting go of you. It’s not time for our story to end.”

Nothing.

“I need you to see into me.”

S
in dances
on the brink of death a few times before finally making a turn for the better. It hasn’t been easy but he’s almost fully recovered. He’s well enough to be discharged from the hospital tomorrow, so that means I won’t be sleeping under his parents’ roof after tonight. I have no choice. It’s time to kill Thane.

I’ve familiarized myself with all things within the Breckenridge compound–surveillance camera locations, Thane’s schedule, the guards at the exterior entrances along with the times of their rotation. Lucky for me, they haven’t considered the notion of the enemy being welcomed inside with open arms.

I’m struggling with my decision. Not because I care anything about Thane. My conflict is spurred by my feelings for Sin. I hate the thought of destroying his world, especially so soon after his brush with death. But I’m forced to choose who comes first–him or Harry.

I can’t continue to stay. Time is my other enemy. I must do this and get home so I can be with my dying father. I’ve already lost more time than I intended.

I need to hear Harry’s reassuring voice one last time before I go through with this. I use my burner phone to place the call and he answers on the first ring. “Hey, girlie.”

“I’m calling about the status of my account.” I spout off a phony number.

Harry and I have our own language no one else is privy to. Each line has been carefully chosen to signify something distinct. We do this because my voice could be heard through a planted bug. “I’m withdrawing the entire balance so I’ll be closing the account today.”

“You’re inside Thane’s?”

“Yes.”

“You’re proceeding tonight?” I have to. I’m not sure when I’ll have another opportunity.

“That’s right.”

“Be careful, girlie. You’re a lamb in the lion’s den. There’s no room for error.” He’s right. One false move and I’m dead. Game over.

“Of course.”

“In devoting your life to making this right, it would be a shame to get it wrong. Take your time. Don’t rush the kill.” I’ve vested my entire existence around this moment. I’ve lived and breathed for it. I won’t ruin it now.

“Everything appears to be correct.”

“I expect a follow-up call as soon as you’re able,” Harry reminds me.

“I’ll phone back to confirm everything was in order.”

“I love you.” We didn’t cipher anything for this one.

“Thank you.” I want to tell him how much I love him but this will have to do.

I return the untraceable burner phone to its hidden compartment within my bag. I walk the guest room floor as I go over my plan in my head one last time. Thane’s working late in his office. He drinks bourbon, at least three, every night so his reflexes and mental status are sluggish. I’m going to knock and enter. He’ll be on low alert, not expecting me to have any motive other than a request to talk. I’m going to tell him who I am before I kill him. I’ll recount all the details about that night—how I heard the fired shots while I was hiding beneath my bed, the devastation of watching him kill my beloved dog, and how frightened I was as he held a pillow over my face. When I finish, I’m going to order him to his knees. I hope he begs me to not kill him when I place the barrel of my gun to his temple.

Time to do this.

I walk the hall and do just as I’ve strategized. I knock and listen for him to tell me to enter.

It’s while I’m standing there waiting for Thane to respond that I realize I’ve traded my life and all I love for this moment. My entire existence has been dedicated to this execution and I’m suddenly overcome by emotions I don’t understand. My purpose in life is ending. What will I possibly do once this is over? This is the close of a lifelong mission—the death of my dream. I should be happy, or at least satisfied, but I’m not.

There’s no reply from within so I knock again, still without an answer. I open the door and go inside to find a sleeping Thane on his sofa. Correction: a passed-out Thane since he reeks of bourbon.

He’s making his extermination too easy for me. But this isn’t the way I want it. Killing an incoherent Thane will be less than satisfying. I need him to be looking into the eyes of the little girl he wronged as he dies. It’s how I’ve envisioned it my entire life and I don’t think anything less will fulfill me.

“Wake up, Thane.” I nudge his shoulder but he doesn’t budge. “Wake up. I want to see fear in your eyes when I put a bullet in your head.”

He stirs and a photograph falls from his hand face down onto the floor. I pick it up—what does a man like him hold dear? What does he clench to his heart while drinking until he passes out?

It’s him with my mother. They’re embracing, smiling, in front of the entrance to a casino. They look … happy. In love.

Why is he clutching this photograph? Perhaps his actions have plagued him for the last eighteen years. I hope so.

I place the barrel of my gun against his temple, just the way I’ve planned all these years. I hesitate, something I didn’t anticipate, and it has everything to do with Sinclair.

If I kill Thane, the mission is over and there’ll be no reason to stay. My time with Sin will be over—the last grain of sand will fall through our hourglass. I’m suddenly aware of how unprepared I am to walk away from him.

I can’t do this—not yet. I haven’t had all the time I want with Sin.

“Dammit to hell!” I take my gun away from Thane’s head. “This is your lucky day.” Only because I love your son.

I’m standing over Thane, gun in hand, when the door opens.

“What are you doing in here, lass?” Isobel asks. Her eyes move to the gun in my hand. “Where did you get that?”

I do the only thing I can. Lie. “I couldn’t sleep. I was on my way to the kitchen for a tea when I saw the light. I let myself in. I shouldn’t have but I’m glad I did. Thane was holding this. I was afraid of his intentions so I took it from him.”

“Blootered dunderheid.” She takes the gun from me, shaking her head. “I’ll see to this. Go to the living room and let’s have a whisky together. It’ll help you to sleep better than tea.”

“Please don’t mention this to Thane. I don’t want him to know I saw him like this.”

She goes to his desk and puts the gun in the top drawer. I’ll need to come back in and retrieve it before Thane finds it. “I won’t. It’ll be our little secret.”

I have a nightcap with Isobel and curse myself as I return to my room. I can’t believe I got my gun taken away. I hope Thane had lots of bourbon since I’ll be going back in after Isobel is in bed.

Once inside, I phone Harry. “Hey, Dad. I have great news. Sinclair is being discharged from the hospital tomorrow.” This isn’t a conversation we’ve rehearsed so I’m winging it.

“Is it done?”

“I’m afraid not.” I hope Harry isn’t disappointed in me.

“Nothing went wrong?” I’m glad we aren’t having a real conversation. I’m not sure how I’d tell him there was a problem—but it was my heart.

“All is well but his recovery is going to take a little longer than expected.”

“I shouldn’t worry?” he asks.

“Not at all.”

“Okay. When you’re in the clear, call me ASAP so we can make revisions.”

“Absolutely. I’ll give Sin your best.”

I dread making that call. I don’t want to lie to Harry but there’s no way I can tell him I couldn’t go through with killing Thane because I’m in love with his son. He’d never understand that.

Sinclair is simultaneously all I could want in a man while I despise everything that makes him the person he is. I’m straddling two worlds. Love versus hate—and I’m not sure which is stronger.

Despite his dirty deeds, I think Sin is it for me—the one and only love of my life. My heart tells me so every time I look at him. The feelings I experience when we’re together are everything I’ve always imagined when I pictured myself in love, minus the part where my beloved will be the next leader of an organized crime empire.

I did not see this perfect storm coming.