Sin & Suffer

I chuckled. “Well, you’ve served enough. Time to get you home.” Along with vengeance, our long-term plan would also benefit Wallstreet and every other man and woman who’d made a mistake and paid—the reformed criminals, the forgotten soldiers, the rebels of society, right down to the hardworking poor and middle-class citizens who had no skeletons in their pasts, only the bad luck to be born into a system that sucked them fucking dry.

The way this country—this world—was run made me bloody rage.

That was what his letter was about.

It would be fitting if he was freed in time to help me finish—to stand before everyone and announce that there was another way than the one we’d been spoon-fed by dirty politicians.

“Grasshopper informed me that you have a meeting with Mr. Samson in a few days.”

“Yes.”

“And you’ve dealt with Dagger Rose?”

I rubbed at the slight scruff on my chin. “Not exactly dealt with. But soon. The fuckers ran.”

“I know where they ran to.”

My blood frosted with retribution. “Perfect. Tell me.”

Wallstreet went silent for a moment. “Night Crusader compound. Most of the Club are holed up there, but others have split and gone alone.”

“What?! We paid them off. The whores, the cash. How fucking dare they go back on their word!”

“I know. I expect you to severely discipline them.” Wallstreet’s voice was black.

My fists clenched. Oh, they’d be severely taught—lesson after fucking lesson. Breathing hard, I flinched against the pressure in my head. “Do I need to worry about the others?”

“No.”

I spun to face Cleo, sensing her presence behind me. A hesitant smile flickered across her lips, her eyes full of concern from my outburst.

Looking away, I calmed down. “Look, I’ve got everything under control. I’ll give you an update when I’ve seen Samson.”

“I have no doubt you’ll pull it off effortlessly, Kill. You always do.”

Cleo came closer.

I wrapped my fingers around her wrist, pulling her against me. She snuggled into my chest, her warm body acting like a painkiller for my head, calming my temper at yet another fucking betrayal.

“Grasshopper also told me about the concussion. Has it affected your trades?”

Shit. He always knew. I could never keep anything from him.

Grasshopper’s information highway.

Squeezing my eyes, I mumbled, “It’s getting better. Every day, it’s easing.”

Bullshit.

Cleo squeezed me, her small inhale echoing with relief.

“Well, keep an eye on it. That brain of yours is too precious to risk.”

Temper swarmed and I clutched the phone harder. “Anything else? I have to go.” I released Cleo, moving away. “Club’s having a get-together tonight. We’re late.”

Wallstreet cleared his throat. “Nope, nothing else. I’ll keep you informed if I get the good news I’m hoping for. And I’ll look forward to your call about Samson.”

I nodded. “Will do.”

“Oh, one other thing. Tell Cleo I look forward to meeting her again soon. You’ve chosen a fascinating woman, Kill.”

My spine shot straight. “What do you mean?”

Wallstreet laughed. “Nothing, my boy. Only that I want to get to know her better. After all, she’s now in equal command in my Club. Bring her to see me again soon.”

I gritted my teeth. As much as I loved Wallstreet and as much as I adored Cleo, having them as anything more than long-distance acquaintances wasn’t a good idea.

“Sure, will do.” Before he could say anything else, I hung up.

“Everything okay?” Cleo asked, dragging the tip of her finger along the grooves of the tabletop.

“Yes, fine.”

Her eyes lingered on my phone as I strummed the keypad. A thought shadowed her face like a passing cloud before dispersing with a gust of wind.

“You all right?” I moved forward, pinching her chin with my thumb and forefinger, forcing her to look at me.

She smiled. “Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

The thought might’ve disappeared from her face, but it lingered in her eyes. “What is it?”

She dropped her gaze to the phone again. “It’s nothing … silly really.”

“Nothing you want or need is silly, Buttercup. Tell me and I’ll make sure you get it—whatever it is.”

She sighed. Gathering her hair into a twist, she draped it over her shoulder. The stalling didn’t calm my nerves, but I let her decide when to tell me.

“I miss her,” she suddenly blurted.

“Miss who?”

“Corrine.”

When I stared blankly, her lips quirked. “My foster sister. I didn’t even say goodbye to her properly when I came here. Rubix’s letter sort of wrenched me from my simple world and didn’t give me time to decide if I should cut ties or just treat it as a vacation.”

Without a word, I placed the phone on the table and nudged it toward her. “Call her.”

Her eyes popped wide. “Really?” She looked at me with such gratefulness, such love, that a fucking sledgehammer mangled my heart. Is that how she thought of me? That she was still my captive? Cut off from the people who’d taken her in and kept her safe when I couldn’t?

Taking her hand, I grabbed the phone and placed it into her palm. Curling her fingers over the device, I smiled. “Call her. I’ll be outside with the others.” I kissed the tip of her nose. “Take all the time you need. I’ll be waiting.”