Page 11 of Sinner's Secret

“Families like mine, hold grudges. If you get in their way and don’t incarcerate, or kill, all of them, they’ll come after you, your family, and your friends. Powerful families have one thing in common. They don’t like losing that power once they’ve got it and they keep really good records.” He raised his hands in surrender briefly. “Okay, so two things in common.”

She frowned, her gaze unfocused. “So, you’re saying whoever is doing this, has been doing it for a while.”

“Probably. If they make good money at it and they haven’t gotten caught so far, why mess with a good thing?”

“That makes almost too much sense.”

“Scary, huh?”

“Very.” She cocked her head. “Your mother has a guillotine?”

“She also collects inquisition torture devices and has them on display in her house. My mother is the most terrifying person I know.”

Nika’s eyebrows rose. “Must make family gatherings interesting.”

“You have no idea.”

She sat and thought for several seconds longer, then gave him the kind of assessing look that told him he was about to get voluntold into something else.

“No.” Might as well get it out there from the start.

“No, what?”

“No, to whatever you’re thinking?”

“You read minds now?”

“Nope, I just know trouble when it shows up on a woman’s face and that woman is looking at me.”

Her gaze narrowed. “I think I’m going to need your help.”

“No.”

“Without it, a bunch of assholes are going to continue to kidnap women in your neighborhood and sell them into slavery. You might not be a hero, you might even be the asshole you claim to be, but I don’t think you’re willing to stand idly by and let it happen in front of you.”

He walked right into that one. Fuck. “Lady, you’re squeezing my balls really tight.”

When he looked at her a moment later, her gaze was on his face, but her attention was on whatever was going on outside of the cab.

“Fine,” she suddenly shouted. “Here’s your fucking money you jerk!” She reached into her purse, then threw some bills at him. “I’m sorry I ever told you anything,” she continued to shout as she opened the passenger door and stepped out. She slammed the door and ran into the diner.

Baz picked the cash off his clothes, about eight dollars in ones, and began swearing under his breath. He jammed the cash into his glove box, slammed it shut, then smacked his steering wheel a couple of times. When he backed out and turned his car to head down the street, two men were briefly illuminated standing outside the closed dry cleaner next door to the diner.

Great. He’d finally found an occupation that was actually lower on the scale of respectfulness than a cab driver.

Dinner theater.

Chapter Three

Detective Nika Johansen watched Baz drive off out of the corner of her eye while she complained to another waitress about what had almost happened on her way home from work.

Nearly snatched by some creeps.

Don’t go home alone at night.

Baz, the yellow cab driver, had saved the day, then proved he was a complete jerk by telling her it was her own fault for walking home alone in this neighborhood.

Dana, the only waitress on duty since it was after two in the morning, patted her shoulder and told her jerk or not, the guy likely saved her from a fate worse than death.

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