Page 135 of Sixth Sin

“Turns out a couple nights before they were murdered, Nicholas found out what was going on and planned to expose him.” Prying the paper out of my hand, he smooths it out and points to the date again. “Went to the police and filed a report.”

He doesn’t have to tell me the rest. I know how this story ends. “But it was never processed. Because Kramer was on Rosten’s payroll.”

“Sometimes I hate this job,” he says, ending two generations of detective work.

And I finally speak the words that have haunted me for most of my adult life. “Rosten staged a hit on the whole family, making it look like a home invasion, to make sure none of them ever talked.”

Rubio blinks, his jaw stilling. “A tip huh?”

“Yep. A random tip.”

“There’s more to this story, isn’t there McCallum?”

I don’t say anything.

He chuckles on a low exhale. “Am I ever going to hear it?”

“Maybe someday.” And maybe he will. Maybe eventually the story of how Alexandra Romanov and I came to be will come out. But it won’t be from me. I stand, throwing a twenty on the table for another untouched cup of coffee. “You ever going to tell me what my aunt told you?”

“Maybe someday.”

This time, I chuckle. “Good luck, detective.”

As I turn to walk away, leaving Detective Javier Rubio to clean up the mess I’ve made, I hear him mutter under his breath, “Well, I guess my job is done.”

I stop mid-stride and twist back around. “What did you say?”

His brows knit. “I said my job is done.”

“Alexandra’s messes are your responsibility now. My job is done.”

Luciano’s words hurl back and grab me around the throat.

Her messes.

My job is done.

I didn’t think I could be blindsided any more in one day, but I was wrong.

He covered for her.

I love you aren’t words I ever thought I’d know. They were a foreign language spoken by people living in a culture I never understood. I knew possession. I knew want.

Now I know all three, and being a selfish man, I won’t let them go.

Alexandra Romanov or Angel Smith, I don’t care what she calls herself. They both make up the woman who owns my soul. I’ll never be able to reconcile this fierce obsession I have with her, but I also know I can’t fight it. She’s mine, and I’ll ruin anyone who tries to take her from me.

Even if it’s Alexandra Romanov herself.

So, while Hilda and Angel are out putting flowers on the memorial bench she insisted on putting in the far corner of the estate, I park by the gate and walk onto the grounds. I climb up the spiral staircase in the back, ignoring the memories trying to force their way in.

I slide my key in the lock and open the door, keeping my focus as I head to the east wing.

I tear it apart piece by piece, and nothing is standing by the time I’m done.

Even me.

I’m in the bedroom we share when I hear her footsteps. They’re light, unlike the heavy shuffle I’ve heard since everything went to hell.

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