Page 50 of By Sin To Atone

I search her eyes. Why did what she said have such an impact on me? I don’t care about her. She’s no one to me. Is it guilt? Or a twisted chance at redemption? There is no redemption for me. No atonement for my sin, because it cost Zoë her life. So, what is it about Blue that has me unable to look away? To walk away? What is it that holds me here, invested, because I am. And it has nothing to do with what she knows about me.

I study her face, watch the pink creeping up her neck as her eyes dart just beyond my shoulder. We’re at eye-level with her in the high SUV. I touch her jaw, turn her face to mine. She licks her lips yet again. She’s very pretty and when the blue of her eyes deepens, I know it’s her body’s reaction to my touch. She wants me to touch her as much as I want it. I try to read beyond the desire in her eyes, to the darkness just beyond. I want to understand the woman who spoke words of patricide the night before. The woman who is somehow not afraid to be with a man she knows murdered his own father.

I don’t know what it is, why it is that I’ve taken such an interest in Blue Thorne. Maybe it’s because of Zoë. Because I failed her so wholly that I’m hyper aware now, with Blue. I don’t know. I should try to remember why she’s here. Pretty as she is, she’s an extortionist. I should keep it in mind, even though there’s another side to this. Her motivation is not greed. She will do whatever she needs to do to look after her sister. Selfless as her quest may be, though, it should not cloud my judgment. What she wants cannot become my problem.

I don’t know what she sees in my eyes but she’s unable to hold my gaze. She turns her head, pushes her hand through the waves of blue and black hair.

I close her door, glad to have that barrier between us as the thought of her in my bed wakes a thing inside me that should be left to lie. My sister was broken physically, emotionally, mentally, by the end. Me, physically, I am whole. Emotionally, I’m a corpse. And yet, it’s my mind that worries me because it is a twisted, dark thing. And there is a part of me that knows that for Blue to be safe, she needs to stay out of it.

When I came back to New Orleans not forty-eight hours ago, it was with the intention of confronting my blackmailer, taking care of the situation however I needed to take care of it. Now, it’s all changed. Nothing has gone as I expected. I should be on a flight back to Amsterdam. To the half-life I’m living there. But here I am taking my blackmailer to visit her broken sister.

With a shake of my head, I climb into driver’s side and start the engine. Before I’ve put the SUV into drive, my phone alerts me to a message. I glance at the text. It’s from Robbie.

Robbie: Lucky Tommy just made parole. He’ll be out in a week. Someone pulled some strings.

Me: Any idea who?

Robbie: Not yet.

I glance at Blue who is chewing on her lip.

She shifts her gaze to me. “Does this car drive itself? If you’re busy sexting your girlfriend, I can drive.”

“No girlfriend.”

“Shocker.” She turns her attention to peeling the last of the old polish from a fingernail.

I shift my attention to my phone.

Me: Did the hospital run any other tests on Wren or Blue?

Robbie: Be more specific.

Me: Rape

Robbie: I’ll dig to see what I can find. Should be landing in about an hour.

Me: I’ll see you tonight then. I’m dropping off a laptop and a gun at Jericho’s.

He sends an emoji with eyebrows raised high. I ignore it. I slip the phone into my pocket and drive. When I should turn right onto the road that will take us to Blue’s apartment, though, I turn left.

“It’s the other way,” Blue says.

“I know.”

She watches me, distrustful, as we drive down the short street that leads to the tall gates that open at our approach. I pull through, very aware of how rigid Blue’s spine is, how she’s watching, one eye on those gates in the mirror as they close behind us. I could ease her mind. If I were good, maybe I would, but I don’t say a word.

Once we get to the entrance of the St. James house, the front door opens, and my brother steps out.

Blue glances at me. “Stay,” I tell her, killing the engine and pocketing the key before I reach back for the laptop and Ziploc. I don’t close the driver’s side door and Jericho peers into the vehicle as I approach.

“What’s this?” he asks, gesturing toward Blue.

I hand him the things. “It’s her sister’s birthday.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “What the fuck are you doing, Zeke?” he asks after a beat.

“Leverage. That’s all.”

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