You do not want to miss Sin. Special preorder price of .99c because it took me so damn long to write this book. But that price will go up on release day! This book is bringing you ALL. THE. FEELS.
As I pry open my heavy eyelids, I swear I must still be dreaming. Elias cradles a woman, her frame wrapped so tightly into a ball she almost looks like a child. But it’s the paleness of his face that gives it away. He wouldn’t look that way for just anybody. Sure, he’s a decent guy. He cares about his fellow human beings. But this is different. I can feel it.
“Brother,” I choke out, the word rough like the quiet grate of sandpaper along the uneven grain of wood. I slip out of my chair and onto my knees, scrambling in my rush to get to my feet.
His arms tremble as he carries her towards the black leather sofa. When I step forward in approach, he pauses, his eyes lifting to meet mine. “I-I’m not sure. She needs help, but brace, brother.”
My heart thunders against my rib cage as he tenderly lays her down. It’s now that I notice the almost black hair covering her face is matted with dirt and what looks to be blood. A rage so fierce consumes me I almost snap. A blackness coats my veins in the vile oil that’s tainted my blood for so long, I don’t think it’ll ever come out. Hatred and pain.
Elias sweeps her hair from her face, and all the alcohol I’ve consumed today rises up my throat with a vengeance. I howl in fury and fall to my knees, choking on the putrid taste while at the same time trying to contain the urge to crawl to her. As much as she may need me, I need to go after those fuckers. There’s hell to pay, and after all these years, it can’t wait another second.
All thoughts of retribution wipe clean away when she retches violently from the sofa, and I get the first and last glimpse of her face that I ever want to see. Bloody and bruised. Scrapes and cuts covering every single beautiful inch. Dirt smears and fluids crusted.
Time stops as the image of her face tattoos itself into my mind. Each beat of my heart is the pierce of the needle inking her image onto my soul. The battered and broken face of my life’s singular worst failure.
It’s so swollen it’s unrecognizable. Her eyes, two black puffy creases, the lashes are hardly visible. The left cheek is disfigured and misshapen while the right has a long cut from eyebrow to ear. Smears of dried blood and dirt color her otherwise pale skin.
What irony that the day our father takes a bullet to the head my sister’s broken body lands on the doorstep to his bar?
But what do I do about it? Trade one revenge for another? The vengeance I held an eternal flame for passes onto his torch?
Do I let his death go silently now that I have Molly back, or do I avenge my father as tirelessly as I hunted Molly’s kidnappers?
Can’t say I had much respect for the fucker.
“Sin,” Elias calls, and I stop debating shit that doesn’t matter right now. “I need to go down and talk to Richard. See what to do. Stay with her. I’ll be right back.”
I try to speak but there’s a lump in my throat. I clear it and try again.
“Yeah, you go. See what he says. I’ll stay here.” Crawling to the sofa, I turn and sit with my back against the edge. My head is near her stomach where the scent of the leather couch barely masks the putrid odor of an unwashed, soiled body. The vomit I only just choked down comes crawling back up again.
In my peripheral, I can just make out her face. Not that I want to. God, the sight is like a punch to the gut. I deserve it. My mind is screaming stare at her, fucker. Look what you did.
So I look.
Then I look away.
And look again.
How can one person be so close to heavenly while at the same time look like hell?
Forcing myself to breathe deeply through my nose and relax, I drop my head onto the leather seat and close my eyes. She’s here. That’s enough for right now. When Elias gets back, we’ll take her to the hospital. Then home. Clean her up and care for her injuries. I swear on my fucking life I’ll do whatever it takes to heal her.