Page 40 of Sixth Sin

“What’s that?” I blurt out, pointing at the tattoo on top of his hand.

“Nothing.” But the sharp catch in his voice says otherwise.

Ignoring him, I tug on his wrist. “Let me see it.” Cradling his palm in mine, I run a finger across faded lines and foreign script. A jolt of electricity sizzles through me as grainy images flash through my mind. I trace the inked cross, swirling the tip of my finger around the words I don’t understand. “What does this mean?”

“Nothing anymore.”

He doesn’t offer any further explanation, and I don’t ask. Maybe Violet was right. Dominic has made a living out of playing people. Why would I be any different? Ever since he blew into my life, my brain feels like a giant puzzle with missing pieces.

“Angel, you okay?”

On edge, I drop his hand. “I’m fine.” We’ve gone around in circles since I walked out here, so I pull the trigger and go for a direct hit. “Why do you know so much about the Romanov murders?”

His face hardens. “Why do you ask so many questions?”

“Why do you keep deflecting?”

“I’m in the business of uncovering hidden truths, aren’t I?” he slurs, the whiskey hitting him harder. “What’s more hidden than an unsolved murder and a missing kid? Besides, detective work is a hobby of mine.”

I give him a side-eyed glance. “You carry around a picture of her. I’d say that’s more than a hobby.”

“Angel, I—” Dominic flinches as another quick succession of flashes goes off just over the green wall. His jaw clenches, his anger palpable. “Fucking parasites,” he grumbles under his breath while rising to his feet. He’s still drunk, but the sudden rush of adrenaline pumping through his veins dilutes the alcohol, making him more coherent.

Paparazzi.

I arch an eyebrow. “Aren’t you one of those fucking parasites?”

Grumbling out an unintelligible response, he wraps a hand around my upper arm and drags me to my feet. “Inside, now.”

I want to protest, but his voice takes on that commanding tone that causes me to lose control of my common sense. As soon as we’re back inside, Dominic slams the glass door and closes the vertical blinds, the scowl sinking deeper into his chiseled features.

“I forgot how relentless those assholes can be.”

For the first time since putting this whole ruse in motion, he looks exhausted. There are dark circles under his eyes and days-worth of stubble surround the lines around his mouth. And it’s not just the alcohol; it’s as if he hasn’t rested in months.

“Are you okay?”

He nods, barely saying two words to me as he shows me to the guest room. I risk a quick glance up at him, noticing some of the earlier tension has faded from his face. I shouldn’t say anything. I promised myself I wouldn’t. But this is eating away at me.

“Dominic, what happened out there—”

“Can’t happen again.”

I blink. “What?”

He leans against the door frame, folding his arms across his chest, a distant look in his eyes. “Until that million-dollar check is cashed and cleared, we can’t give anyone a reason to question you. Besides, this is a temporary business arrangement, nothing more.”

There.

Right there is the man I built Dominic McCallum up to be in my head. The asshole behind the computer. The monster wielding a pen in one hand and a sword in the other, but at the end of the day, they’re both the same.

“Right,” I say flatly. “Nothing more.”

He nods, his dark hair falling over his forehead. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of your life, Alexandra Romanov.”

My stomach roils at the way that sounds.

Dominic slips away without another word, which is just as well. My mind is already preoccupied with what tomorrow will bring.

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