THE FIRST SIN (15 page)

He took another bite, then met my eyes. “Are you okay?” His sudden change in conversation was one hell of an indicator he wasn’t crazy about talking about his past. I could so relate.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“The welts from the whip.” Donovan’s voice was hard, and his gaze even harder when I stared into his blue eyes. “And being forced into that goddamned cage.” A shiver wracked my body at his intriguing yet terrifying gaze. Perhaps terrifying was more appropriate, because he looked like he could snap a man’s neck without an ounce of remorse.

“Yeah.” I nodded despite the burn. Especially in my butt, since I was sitting on it. “You were right. We agreed on it and it was part of the job.”

“I heard you were Special Ops in the Army,” Donovan said.

So we were going to skip to my past. “For a while.”

“Why did you leave?”

Talking about my past ruined my appetite and I couldn’t eat anymore. I set my fork on my plate, two crepes still remaining, and I looked out the window over the kitchen sink.

“Screwed up.” I rubbed my temples. “Made one big mistake.”

He ate his last bite of crepe. “Want to talk about it?”

“As much as you want to talk about your past,” I said. He studied me. “Yours is eating at you enough that your nightmares have you waking up screaming.” I frowned. “How did you know?”

“The walls are thin.” He folded his arms on the table.

“You talk a lot in your sleep.”

“Jeez.” I ruffled my hair.

He studied me. “And you’ve got a thing about bars.”

“Noticed that, too, did you?” I asked, trying to joke.

Nick didn’t say anything, just continued to look at me. I pushed my hand through my hair again. “Okay, fine. I got trapped in a storm drain when I was five.” The memory of that day still threatened to make me shudder. “It had rained earlier in the day and I’d been playing street hockey with my four older brothers and my sister. My little brother wasn’t born yet.” Why it was so hard to talk about something that happened when I was so young—I don’t know. Maybe because bars still bothered me after all of these years.

“While we were playing, the ball had gotten away and rolled into the storm drain.” I should have listened but even then I was stubborn. “My brothers and sister yelled at me not to go after it, and started running after me, but I was so sure I could get the ball and they’d be proud of me.” I closed my eyes as the horrible memories rushed over me.

“And I fell in.”

My throat felt dry as I swallowed and opened my eyes to meet Donovan’s intent blue gaze. “I was trapped. Crying, sobbing, begging my parents to come and get me as I clung to the grate.” I could almost feel the water rising to my throat as I remembered the horrible moment. “I clung to the grate and tried to keep my head above the rushing water.

“Papa had called to me, telling me it would be okay. He sounded like he was trying to keep calm for me, but I knew he wasn’t.” Mammy’s cries still echoed in my ears. “My mother was crying and I still remember the sound echoing inside the drain.”

I think the sirens of the rescue units scared me even more. “The extraction team fought to rip away the grate against the rushing water. It had passed my lips and I’d had to tilt my head back to breathe. My heart had been beating so hard my chest hurt.

Donovan held my gaze as I finished. “Then the men saved me and I was in Mammy and Daddy’s arms.” For a few moments all I heard was the ticking of the kitchen clock as Donovan seemed to think about what I’d just told him. “I can’t imagine what you must have gone through,” he said.

I shrugged. “It happened a long, long time ago.” “You also cry out about things like assassinations, Special Ops, Cubans,” he said and I straightened in my chair. “I didn’t realize I carry on like that in my dreams.” I rubbed my palm on my shorts. “I wake up feeling like I’ve had the crap beaten out of me, but I just had no idea...” ‘Tell me.” The words came out like he was a concerned friend, not like he was demanding that I spill my guts. Maybe I needed to talk about it because it was something I never did—share what I’d been through. I took a deep breath. “In the Army I was a sniper in Special Ops.” I gave a rueful smile. “There was still a stigma about allowing women in Special Forces, and my captain hated me.”

Donovan narrowed his brows.

“We were on location and I had a target to take out” I ground my teeth. “I’d had the perfect shot But orders came through at the last second to abort the op. Too late, because I’d already pulled the trigger without the official goahead.” “Wild guess.” Donovan’s tone was flat. “You were court-martialed.

“Good guess.” I couldn’t look at him anymore. “My asshole captain made sure every bit of blame was on my shoulders. Made a huge deal of it.”

Donovan stayed quiet and I brushed a wrinkle out of the cornflower blue tablecloth as I avoided his gaze. “Somehow I ended up in a cell with men I’d never met before. Men who gave me an ultimatum.

‘Two choices.” This time I did look at Donovan. “Either assassinate people for them, never knowing who I was killing or why.”

I swallowed. “Or they would slowly kill me. They would mutilate me, keep me hidden. Then they’d cut off a couple of fingers one day. Maybe chop off a leg the next. An arm the following day. They would stop the blood flow only so that I could live for more mutilation. Until slowly I died.” The sudden look of fury on Donovan’s face almost made me lean back from him in my chair. But I continued. “I was beaten, nearly drowned, electrocuted, whipped, and threatened with rape.”

Shame rolled through me in waves. “They broke me.” “Jesus Christ.” The fury on Nick’s face was enough to send me reeling, and he hit the table hard enough with his hand that it made the plates and the silverware on the table bounce and clatter. “You give me the names and approximate location of those men who gave you that ultimatum and I’ll kill every goddamned one of them.” I sighed before I said quietly, “I already did.”

March 31

Sunday morning

The vibration of my cell phone cut me off from saying anything else. It was my personal line, and Georgina had unblocked her number so that I could see it was her. “Georgina,” I answered before she could respond. “Randolph’s funeral. Did I screw up and miss it?”

“No, honey.” Georgina’s voice was subdued. “The funeral’s at ten and it’s only eight now. Where are you?” “I’ll tell you about it on the way.” I looked at Donovan.

“I’m running home right now.”

“Let me know when you get here.”

“I will.”

The urge to cry was almost overwhelming and I wished I could have. I’d just gotten through telling Donovan how I had killed for others and killed for myself. And now I was going to a funeral for one of my own.

March 31

Sunday late morning

“I can’t look.” I squeezed Georgina’s hand as we stood outside with a group of other mourners and I stared at the open silver casket.

“It will help give you closure.” Georgina squeezed my hand in return.

“I know what will really give me closure.” Yeah. Kill every one of those bastards. That would give me some closure.

“You need to see her.” Georgina drew me toward the casket.

“And say good-bye.”

It was a sunny, beautiful day with a light breeze and birds chirping. It should have been dark, with the wind whipping the trees back and forth and thunder crashing in our ears as rain pummeled our bodies.

It was too bright. Too cheerful a day. Except for the crowds of people in black, many weeping and some openly sobbing, like Randolph’s mother.

Other RED agents had come to see Randolph one last time, and to say good-bye.

If only these people knew what a hero Stacy was. Everything she had done for her country.

It was so unfair.

But so was the fact that she was dead.

I let Georgina draw me toward the casket, and I closed my eyes at first so that I couldn’t see. Then I opened them and there she was.

She could have been sleeping. Her blond curls were soft around her face and they’d put makeup on her that made her look warm and real. She was in a high-necked dress. To hide the slit in her throat.

“Stacy.” I could barely get any words out. There was so much I wanted to say.

“I’m sorry. You don’t know how sorry I am. I’m going to miss you so much.” I wanted to touch her face but I didn’t want to feel cold skin. I wanted her warmth and vitality back. “Good-bye.” I whispered.

And don’t worry, I said to her in my thoughts. I’ll get them all.

March 31

Sunday afternoon

My brother Ryan gave a quick grin to Mammy as he spooned out big helpings from a large stewpot. “You don’t know how much I’ve missed your wicked-good Irish stew.” Our oldest brother, Zane, reached to take the pot from Ryan. “Stop hogging it all to yourself, Marine.”

“There’s plenty for the bunch of you.” Mammy smiled, clearly happy to have all nine of us at the table. “Eat up,” she said, and passed around a huge plate of soda bread. Daddy took two pieces for himself before handing the plate to our younger sister, Rori. “I’m on a diet,” she said as she passed it on to our next oldest brother. “You’re always on a diet and you’re stick-thin.” Troy practically took the rest of the plateful for himself. “As if.” Rori mostly ate the meat out of the stew. “I have to watch what I eat or—“ “Yeah, yeah,”

Evan interrupted as he piled Dublin Coddle on his own plate. “You’re a flight attendant. Gotta watch those carbs.”

“Bangers.” Sean bounced up and down in his chair at the huge table. “I want some sausages, and Ryan’s going to eat them all.” Sean was a late-in-life surprise and was only twelve, where the other six of us ranged from twenty-nine to thirty-six years old. But as hyper as Sean was, Mammy might as well have had three kids his age. “Calm down, Sean.” Daddy made a motion with his hand indicating that our little brother needed to glue his butt to his seat.

“Heaven help us all when that kid hits puberty,” Evan said.

Sean glared at Evan. “Shut up.”

“We’ll have none of that at the table, Sean.” Mammy gave him a stern look.

“Now eat your stew.” “What’s up in the world of translations, Lex?” Ryan asked in between healthy bites of stew.

If they only knew. I shrugged and the movement caused the welts on ray body to burn. “Not much. I might be going to Italy in a couple of weeks. It’s not definite.” “Zane just returned from DC.” Mammy was so proud of him, too, believing he was still in the Secret Service and having no idea he was a RED agent now. She was thrilled with all of us, including the bouncing twelve-year-old next to her. Evan stopped eating his soda bread long enough to look at Ryan. “How long are you shored up for?” “We’re shipping out next Wednesday.” Ryan glanced at Mammy and smiled. “So I’ll be home a few more days.”

“Damned good to have us all together again” Daddy said, and we all grinned.

“Been a hell of a long time.” “At least a year.” Troy jabbed his fork into his potatoes. He was a firefighter in Roxbury. “Where you flying to next, Rori?”

“I’ve been mostly on the Phoenix and LA route.” Rori grimaced. “I am so ready for a change. I might start traveling to Paris and back.”

I would have said I loved Paris if I hadn’t had to assassinate someone there.

My mind wandered, the thought reminding me of how I’d spilled my guts to Donovan this morning. And that thought took me to last night and being naked—

“Lex.” I jerked my attention to Evan, who’d said it loud enough that everyone was looking at me. “I was just trying to catch your attention. You seemed like you were in outer space or something.”

“Or something.” I forced a smile. “Just thinking of the creative ways I’m going to kick major butt later when we play some three on three.”

Evan snorted. ‘This time you won’t get so lucky.”

March 31

Sunday late afternoon

The rain-scented wind pressed my clothes against my body while Zane and I walked down the street in our parents’ neighborhood of Cedar Grove.

Now the rain was coming that should have been here this morning.

Even the feel of material against my skin made my eyes threaten to water, and I ground my teeth. I should have worn something looser than the jeans I changed into after the funeral.

As we walked, Zane’s hair ruffled and looked messy from the harsh breeze.

But with the black hair and green eyes he’d inherited from our father, and Zane’s quarterback build, he still looked damn good.

He was the only other member of the family who knew I worked for RED, because he worked for the same agency.

Zane’s cover was that he still worked for the Secret Service. He’d been Secret Service for eleven years before being recruited into RED, but he couldn’t tell anyone the true story, same as me. So he just let everyone continue to think he was with the SS.

“Now that we’ve ditched everyone, what’s up in HQ?”

Zane looked down at me. “I hear you have a new partner.” A wince followed the memory of the whip, and the burning stripes all over my body that my

“wonderful” new partner had been forced to inflict on me.

I clasped my hands behind my back. “How did that news get down to weapons trafficking?”

“You’re my kid sister.” Zane shrugged and smiled. “Everyone knows better than to keep me out of the loop when it comes to any big news that has to do with you.” “Georgina, wasn’t it?” My scowl only made him give me a more amused expression. “I’ll have a talk with that girl.” “His names Donovan, right?”

I nodded.

‘Think he’ll make a decent partner?” Zane asked.

“Depends on what you mean by decent,” I grumbled. Zane frowned. “You know I’ll tear him apart if he gets out of line.”

I thought about the club, Donovan taking care of me last night and listening to my story. And I thought of his sister and what he was going through.

“Yeah, Donovan’s a good guy.” Despite the burn of every lash on my body the words came easily. He’d had to do it or we’d never had made it into that BDSM fold. Maybe I shouldn’t have kneed him in the groin.

But it had made me feel so much better.

“You know I’m here for you.” Zane’s tone was serious.