Mortal Sin (7 page)

“To see Patrick, not you.”

“What’s your problem?”

“I don’t have a problem, Sean, I’m just trying to protect my sister.”

Sean hadn’t heard Lucy walk down the hall, until she said, “Protect me?”

Kate walked over to her. “I am so sorry, Lucy, about everything, but you can’t—”

Lucy was shaking her head the minute Kate started speaking and interrupted her. “Don’t tell me what I can’t do, not now.”

“You’re not speaking to Noah Armstrong without a representative. I’ll go with you—”

“No.” Lucy turned abruptly and stormed back to the family room. Kate followed, Sean right behind her. Lucy stood with her back to them, facing the fireplace.

Kate said to Sean, “Sean, tell her she can’t talk to the FBI without a lawyer or someone to look out for her interests!”

Sean raised an eyebrow. “You just said this wasn’t any of my business.”

“Dammit, this isn’t a joke!”

Lucy turned around and confronted Kate. “Damn straight it isn’t a joke. You lied to me. You had plenty of opportunities to tell me about the plea agreement and you didn’t. You didn’t even tell me Morton was released from prison!”

“I said I’m sorry, and I am, but—”

“But?” Lucy shook her head. “But you were only trying to
protect me
? Ignorance is not protection!”

Morton
. Sean froze, working double time to keep his anger from showing. He knew exactly who Roger Morton was. He knew all about Lucy’s kidnapping and rape the day of her high school graduation.

“He’s out of prison?” Sean asked.

Kate put her hand up to silence him, and he was getting irritated. “Sean—”

“With all due respect, Kate, security is my specialty.”

Lucy said, “Morton is dead. He’s been out of prison
for six months and no one told me!” She pointed a finger at Kate. “I had a right to know. He was
here
!”

Sean had a hundred questions, but now wasn’t the time. He crossed the family room and stood next to Lucy. “Lucy, you can stay here as long as you need.”

Kate said, “That’s not the issue. Sean, you know she can’t talk to the FBI without a lawyer.”

“Why does the FBI want to talk to her?”

“Morton was killed in the marina right across the Potomac,” Kate said. “I had to answer their questions as well, considering my history with that bastard. I drove down with Dillon to Richmond last Friday, then flew back Sunday night, and Dillon has been at Petersburg all week. We’re clear as soon as Noah verifies our alibis.”

Lucy gasped. “They don’t think I killed him!”

“I doubt it, you were pretty convincing that you didn’t know he was out of prison, but Lucy, I know how the system works. Why answer questions you shouldn’t have to answer when it has nothing to do with the murder? They’re just going to pump you for information, and you don’t know anything that can help.”

“Stop,” Lucy said. “Just stop trying to shield me. You know something, Kate? I can see why Dillon would keep the truth from me. And the rest of my family, for that matter. I don’t think any of them have truly, deep down, stopped thinking of me as a victim.”

“That’s not true—”

“But,” Lucy interrupted, “you?” She shook her head. “I expected more from you. Of all people, you didn’t coddle me. You supported my career choices; you took me to the gun range and taught me everything you knew. You’ve always been straight with me. At least, that’s what I thought. Now I don’t know what to think.
How many other times you lied to me. Kept information from me. Justified it … how? All I can come up with is that you thought I would fall apart. When it really mattered, you thought I’d break.”

“No—”

“Then why not tell me?”

Kate didn’t answer. Sean put a hand on Lucy’s back. She was vibrating with her anger.

“Why, dammit?” Lucy demanded.

Kate had tears in her eyes. “I didn’t want you to know how we all fucked up! No one should have agreed to those terms, but we were desperate. We were running out of time, and that bastard knew it. We made a huge mistake, but I don’t know that we could have done it any differently. If we hadn’t gotten the information when we did, Adam Scott might have succeeded in his plan to kill Dillon and grab you again. I don’t know. It’s easy to second-guess, but I’ll tell you something: Dillon didn’t know about the plea agreement until after the fact. Don’t hold it against him. It’ll tear him apart.”

Tears streamed down Lucy’s face, and Sean put his arm around her to steady her. She leaned against him. “But you still told Dillon, right? He knew?”

Kate nodded.

Lucy shook her head and half walked, half ran from the room. Kate brushed her own tears from her eyes and glared at Sean. What had he done to warrant her wrath? He was on Lucy’s side.

“I’ll make sure she gets home safely,” he told Kate.

“I need to explain—”

“Not now. Give her some space, okay?”

Kate rubbed her temples with all her fingers and nodded.

“Tell me what happened.”

“That bastard was supposed to stay in Colorado. He came to D.C. last week and ended up with a bullet in the back of the head.”

“Execution?”

She didn’t comment. “His body was found Saturday morning. The FBI got the case yesterday when the police ID’d the body and noted he was on federal probation.”

Sean’s mind ran through possible scenarios. Kate seemed to know what he was thinking and said, “Stay out of it, Sean.”

He didn’t respond. Of course he wasn’t going to stay out of it. In a roundabout way, Morton’s murder affected his business. Patrick was his partner, and Lucy was Patrick’s sister. That made the entire case his domain, and nothing Kate said was going to deter him. That she even tried proved she didn’t know him.

“I’ll bring Lucy home later tonight,” he said. “But a word of advice—I don’t think she wants to hear any more excuses or explanations. I’d stay out of her way and let her work through it herself, or you’re going to dig yourself into a deeper hole.”

Brad Prenter glanced at his watch. Tanya was late.

He didn’t like that. She’d already pissed him off with her indecisiveness. He had a very busy life and he always arrived on time—why couldn’t his date reciprocate? Strike one.

He glanced around the busy club, anger gnawing in his gut. All these kids, mostly college students, laughing, yakking it up. Flaunting their freedom. He used to be one of them.

When had his life gone to shit? It was that bitch, Sara Tyson. Accusing him of rape. Like he needed to
rape
a woman to get laid. Women wanted him. Always had, always would. He came from a wealthy family; he always paid for dinner, drinks, even concerts and the theater—and not the cheap seats, either. He was attractive, with a good body, and he was great in bed. The women he screwed always told him how good he did them. Even Sara, but then she’d gone and had a mental breakdown when her roommate walked in on them doing it doggy-style. Went all psycho and said the alcohol made her do it. Bull-fucking-shit. If her roommate wasn’t such a fucking interfering prude, he could have talked Sara out of charging him with rape.

It was Sara’s word against his. Everyone had seen her
hanging all over him at the club. The cops hadn’t even been able to prove
he’d
been the one to put the Liquid X in her drink. His attorney said he’d get off, that there was no way the judge would even let it go to trial.

But that damn text message Sara sent to her roommate did him in, and then Maggie came forward and said he’d done the same to her and the old fart of a judge caved.

Lying bitch
.

Two years and four months. In
prison
. He couldn’t finish his last semester and now was back in college to get his degree even though he was twenty-five and should be working for his dad’s brokerage house and making his own money, rather than living off his meager trust. All because little hot Sara thing didn’t want her friends to know she was a slut.

Brad glanced at his watch again. Eight-fifteen. “Shit, where is she?” If she’d gotten cold feet, he’d be livid. She’d already changed the place on him at the last minute, and because he sensed she was a flake, he’d checked his email right before he came and she hadn’t contacted him again to cancel or say she was running late.

Bitch
.

The bartender approached and gestured toward his empty beer mug. Brad nodded and said, “And a shot of JD.” He needed it after being stood up.

“Bad news?”

“The hot chick I’m supposed to meet is late,” Brad complained.

The bartender poured the shot. “The one you met online?”

Brad had forgotten he’d talked to the guy earlier,
when he’d been excited about Tanya—so excited he’d arrived early. “You should have read the messages she sent me. And the photos—if she’s half as horny in person, it’s going to be a wild night.”

Tanya hadn’t sent him photos, except the one head shot. And she wasn’t explicit in her messages, but Brad could read between the lines. Why else would she meet him if she didn’t want to get laid? That’s how these online games were played. Dance around it, but when the girl agreed to meet face-to-face, that meant getting down-and-dirty.

“Hope she makes it, dude.”

She’d better
.

Brad looked around the room. Lots of couples and groups. Groups of guys, groups of girls. He’d just have to wait. The time would come.

He reached into his pocket and fingered the plastic vial with his special homemade Liquid X. Just to loosen her up. Girls liked to play this coy game. Two dates, three dates, leading him on, jerking him around. Get hot and heavy, then say no when he slipped his hand down her pants. They always said yes by the third date, but why should he have to wait that long? He was so tired of it, and after prison he was through with playing stupid games.

Brad drained the shot of JD, savoring the burn as the whiskey slid down his throat. He watched the crowd. A couple was bickering near the door. As he watched, the guy yelled at his date—Brad couldn’t make out what they were saying—then left. The girl—a blonde, possibly twenty-one or she had a fake ID—stared after her boyfriend in shock. As Brad watched, she drained the drink in her hand, turned on her glittery heels, and
strode purposefully over to the bar, standing next to Brad. She smiled at the bartender and put the glass down. “Another, pretty please?”

Brad might not even need the Liquid X to loosed up this babe. “Hey,” he said.

She glanced at him in blatant appraisal, but acted nonchalant. “Hi.” She scanned the crowd and sighed.

“Your boyfriend leave?”

“He’s
not
my boyfriend. Not anymore.”

“His loss.”

“
Exactly.
” She nodded her head to emphasize the point.

Her name was Ashley; she went to GWU, majoring in public administration.
Boring
. They chatted a bit, and Brad sensed immediately she wanted to fuck him. He saw it in her dark eyes, the way her tongue licked her lips, the way her nipples felt when he brushed against her thin black sweater.

Someone bumped Ashley from behind and she pressed her full body against Brad. She smiled, a bit nervous. Brad was experienced enough to know that she’d have to be real drunk to come home with him without a little urging. College girls thought they appeared less slutty if they had to be talked into spreading their legs.
I never do this. I never sleep with a guy on the first date. I never …

It was all bullshit.

Brad would simply speed up the inevitable. He’d paid a hooker the day after he got out of prison, but he wasn’t doing that again. He’d been counting on Tanya to show, and he would have his turn with her soon. She’d regret standing him up.

He’d had a lot of experience slipping drugs into his
dates’ drinks. It had become harder as some bartenders watched with eagle eyes, but in a bar this crowded he could manage, no problem.

She said something, and he pretended he couldn’t hear over the noise. She leaned closer. “Are you at GWU, too?”

He shook his head. “American U.”

“Grad school?”

He
should
be in grad school by now. All because of those lying bitches, he’d had two years of his life stolen. He lied and said, “Law school.”

She was impressed. “Wow. I’m only third year. Still don’t know what I want to do, but there are a lot of options in D.C. with a public admin degree, don’t you think?”

While she was talking, he brought his own drink to his lips, sipped, then as he brought it down he used a finger to squeeze the teeny vial of Liquid X that he’d pressed against the side of his glass. Several drops fell into her margarita, which she held at chest level. Even if she was watching his hand, she wouldn’t have been able to see anything. If she saw the drops hit her drink, she might assume it was condensation from his glass.

“You have plenty of time,” he said. “You should have fun. It’s college.”

She smiled and took a long swallow of margarita. “You’re absolutely right.”

“Do you want to go outside?”

“It’s freezing.”

“They have heaters on the back patio. It’s hot in here.”

“Sure,” she said and smiled brightly, sipping her drink.

“Want another?” Brad asked.

“I’m good—I don’t want to get
too
drunk!” she giggled.

Too late for that
.

Brad led her out back, his hand rubbing her shoulder.

It was fucking cold outside, but the snow had stopped and the heat lamps took the chill off. Ashley slipped on her coat, however, and said, “Are you sure you’re not cold?”

“Naw,” he lied. He wasn’t planning on staying here long.

There were a few other people outside, but not many—mostly people coming out for a quick smoke before heading right back in. Brad watched the blonde finish her drink, hiding his smile. She staggered a bit, and he put his arm around her waist.

“Whoopsie,” she said and giggled.

He kissed her hard on the lips, and she froze. He didn’t let her first reaction stop him, because he knew women. They always played these fucking games. He reached up her shirt and squeezed her breast—dear God, it felt incredible. He wanted her, he wanted her now, but he’d get her back to his apartment. Or at least to his car. No, dammit, he had the Porsche tonight. She could give him a blow job, then he’d take her home for a good fuck.