Page 34 of Psycho Sinners

“Works for me, Kenny will be missing me,” Julian spoke up from where he was stuffing his face. “He hates when he’s left alone with Imelda cleaning the place.”

“How do you know how he feels about Imelda?” Cristian scoffed.

“Because I know him well,” Julian retorted, and I sipped my whiskey, not bothering to get involved. I wanted away from Taboo Kisses and this mess with Cristian. I had my men keeping an eye on Naomi and Raymond, who was in recovery and would be released tomorrow after his surgery. I’d offered him a nice payment to continue working for us and to keep his mouth shut. Along with threats on his siblings. If money didn’t talk, threats did.

“You chose an interesting one, Cristian,” I noted, my mind still whirring over the files I’d gotten of Scarlet Zimmer.

A part of me wanted nothing to do with her, knowing she was bad news in more ways than one, especially if Cristian was interested in her.

But the other, the other wanted to do dark things to her, to bend her to my will, make her beg, to see just how hot that fire burned in her.

“I know. She’s got fight. I like it.” He smirked as he continued eating. “Did you do some checks?”

“Yes, she’s got a history, petty stuff, definitely not a woman who will lie down and take shit,” I noted, the corner of my mouth quirking. Was she scheming on how to get back at my brothers for their violations? Was she ready to take on that firepower?

“The bitch burned down a bar, I think that says enough about her craziness.” Julian barked out a laugh.

“The crazy ones are the best fucks.” Cristian raised his own glass of vodka before tossing it back.

Julian just shook his head, and I glanced back down the hall.

Maybe she would be a good lay. Perhaps I’d consider blowing off some steam in a different way when the time came.

Maybe.

13

SCARLET

Tyrone returned not long after I’d nestled back in the bed, pondering my very existence. He arched a brow at me under the covers in his bed. I’d assumed this was where I was to hole up and sleep, although, judging by his I-mean-business stance, we were about to move.

“Get up. We’re going,” he commanded, casting a wayward glance out the window over the city.

“Am I just wearing this?” I asked as I slid out from under the sheets in the clothes he’d given me. They weren’t his, the shirt was too small, and I vaguely wondered who they’d been for. Or did he just have spare clothes on hand for any poor guests that wound up here?

“Yes.” He turned away, and I pursed my lips at his attitude. Mr. Big Shot expected me to heel like a loyal dog. Fuck him.

But the image of Ray holding his bloody shoulder made me follow like a puppet.

“Boots,” Tyrone grunted as we headed into the living area, pointing at my boots that had vanished after my night with Cristian. I gritted my teeth at them, but headed over and slipped them on, grateful I’d had the sense to stuff my socks into them. Where had they wound up anyway? Had Cristian hidden them in his room? I wasn’t about to ask as I avoided looking at him and Julian.

The next thing I knew, I was being herded out of the apartment and down the stairs. I eyed the door that led back into Taboo Kisses, but was quickly guided towards a back door instead, the three brothers caging me in with their bodies.

We erupted into an alley, the stench of piss from some drunken customer likely and something foul from the dumpster hitting me hard and making me nearly choke. The brothers seemed unfazed, as if they were accustomed to such smells. Then again, they were stone-cold killers being the mafia, so I imagined they encountered many smells in their line of work.

The thought made me shudder, and Julian’s hand landed on my arm, steering me to an awaiting Merc, the windows tinted out. I was shoved into the backseat, Julian and Cristian squeezing in on either side of me while Tyrone took the passenger seat. I recoiled in disgust as Cristian grinned wickedly and winked, finding myself jammed up against Julian, who didn’t comment.

I glanced at the driver, who paid me no heed. Was it normal for the three of them to prance around with women? Then again, they owned a damn strip club fronting for a brothel. Women attached to their arms was likely normal, although they probably got paid.

Though, just like rockstars, the mafia probably had groupies, too.

We pulled out of the alley, and I focused on the road ahead, doing my best to ignore the two bodies on either side of me.

Twenty-nine days. I could do this.

It could be worse, they could be disgusting homeless men with rotten teeth and obvious genital infections.

I hoped to god they didn’t have any STDs. How would I even ask that?

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