Page 34 of Sinner's Secret

“Are people going to die?”

Baz sighed and shrugged. “It’s possible, but usually my cousin is more circumspect. He sees himself as educated, urbane, and sophisticated. Going on a murderous rampage is what people without imagination do.”

“Good God, do I want to know all the creative ways he might punish someone caught betraying him?”

“Probably not.” Baz glanced at her. “He also has an extensive collection of Inquisition torture devices.”

Nika rubbed the back of her neck with one hand. “It sounds like we could be caught in the middle of a turf war between criminal organizations.”

“That is possible. Not a fun thing to contemplate, but possible.” He glanced at her again. “You do realize that there’s a good chance that someone in the police command structure is complicit in this human trafficking mess?”

“What? No.”

“How else did your man get discovered and nearly murdered? Why else did they try to grab you, not once, not twice, but three times? Someone is giving them information.”

“But not the latest information,” she argued. “They didn’t count on you showing up to drive me home after my shift at the diner or arguing with that other driver. They assumed that the only reason you’d go into the police station was because you’d been arrested. Is it known that you and your cousin are on speaking terms?”

“I haven’t seen him in person in a while, but when I do see him, we usually trade insults while he berates me about my lack of personal hygiene.”

She glanced at him with a frown. “You’re a little on the scruffy side, but that’s kind of the style these days.”

Wait, she liked how he looked? Shit, he couldn’t ask her that. Just act normal, moron.

What was normal? This uncomfortable silence that made him want to babble?

“Yeah,” he drawled instead while waving one hand vaguely at his head. “I spent an hour getting my hair just right.”

She laughed and the moment of awkwardness passed. Mostly.

Nika lived in a pretty, little brick house on Lyon Ave, next to a hair salon. Baz managed to find a parking spot in front of the hair salon and pulled in.

“Is your cousin going to start a war?” Nika asked, making no move to open the car door.

Baz sighed. “I doubt it. That’s not really what I’m worried about.”

“Oh?” She studied him with her head tilted to one side.

He knew she wasn’t offering herself to him, knew she had no idea how tempting the line of her neck looked with her hair up in that braid. Knew he had to keep his hands, and mouth, to himself or he would destroy them both.

“Yeah,” Baz croaked out through a dry mouth. “He won’t start one, but he might finish it.”

“That’s what I was afraid you’d say.” She shook her head. “Because someone did try to start a fight between your family and the NYPD, and they would have succeeded if it weren’t for you.”

“I’m not sure about that,” Baz said. He was only one man, and he really didn’t want her to think of him as superhuman. “And there are some other things I don’t know.”

She gave him a half-smile. “Like, why?”

“Yeah, that one. As well as who is doing it and what they hope to gain.”

“Those are good questions, but right now, I need to know what your cousin is going to do. Should the NYPD be prepared for a turf war? Is there any way to avoid one? The collateral damage would be significant.”

“No argument here,” Baz grunted. “This isn’t the wild west. No one benefits from too much violence in the streets.”

Nika grinned suddenly. “You’re starting to sound like a cop.”

“Hey,” Baz protested. “No insults while riding in my cab.”

Nika put her hand on the door handle.

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