Page 40 of Sinner's Malice

Montana smirked. The next thing I knew, Montana shoved Pippen toward his brother as the large man grinned and grabbed Pippen by the back of the neck. Montana then turned to Mr. Sinclair.

“Where the fuck is my brother?”

Mr. Sinclair simply said, “Which brother do you mean? Kansas and Arizona are in Lawton, Oklahoma with your mother,Virginia and her partner, Happy. As for Dakota, he’s taken a government contract and is out of the country.”

Montana growled and took a step closer.

Reaching for Montana’s arm, I stepped in front of him and pleaded, “Please don’t.”

“I’d listen to her,” Mr. Sinclair advised.

Looking at the man, I carefully worded what needed to be said. “This is my family, Mr. Sinclair. I care for them very much. Please. As a favor to me, just answer Montana’s question. If you know where Malice is, please tell us.”

The man looked at me and I watched his face soften. Taking a step closer to me, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a card, handing it to me, clearly stating, “I’m sorry, Little One. I would very much like to help you with this, but this is Malice’s journey. He needs time to understand everything and accept who he is. Until that happens, my hands are tied. However, if you ever have need of me, I will make myself available.”

Taking the card, I looked at it and nodded.

“Thank you, Mr. Sinclair.”

“You may call me Sin, Little One.”

“Silver, sweetheart, you have to tell us how you know that man?” Mercy asked, leaning forward in his chair as Montana paced the boardroom like a caged animal.

After Mr. Sinclair gave me his card, he and his two men left without any more fanfare, taking Pippen with them. While I wasn’t positive that Pippen went willingly, something in my gut told me that the young intern would be back sooner rather than later.

The second they were gone, Montana rounded on me and escorted me into the boardroom, where he insisted I sit in his seat while the rest of the board filtered in. Everyone was in attendance, minus Malice, whose chair sat empty.

Looking at the man next to me, I whispered, “I can’t tell you. Malice made me promise.”

Mercy sighed, then leaned back in his chair as he looked toward Montana.

“Silver,” Montana said, taking a deep breath, trying to calm the fury building inside of him. “I love you, girl. Will kill the world for you, but you have to give us something here. Anything.”

“I want so much to tell you what I know, but I can’t. You’ve always told me that when a brother confides in me, I should lock it away and never speak of it again. That my word is paramount. Unbreakable. Don’t make me go back on my word. Please.”

Fury chuckled, shaking his head. “She’s got a point, Montana. You did say that.”

“I know!” Montana huffed, raking his hands through his hair. “Just never thought she’d use my own words against me. Mercy, you said you’ve met the man. Tell us what you know?”

“Like I said before, Crispin Ulysses Sinclair isn’t a man you ever want to fucking cross. You think Maxim is fucking dangerous? Crispin makes Max look like a fucking Boy Scout. He’s got his hands in everything, and I mean everything. He is a self-made billionaire who doesn’t give two fucks about anything or anyone. If he wants something, nothing will stop him from achieving his goal. The man is singular, and extremely fucking dangerous.”

“How did you meet him?”

“We met at the Den. An exclusive BDSM club in Seattle. He was there on business. And before you even ask, Montana, no, Inever found out why he was there. But someone else was there. Someone that might know.”

“Who?”

Mercy smirked and said, “Popeye.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Montana roared. “Our Popeye? The same fucker who is in the fucking wind!”

“You asked.” Mercy chuckled.

“I’d suggest calling Sypher, but Montana severed that option the last time the kid was here.” Payne frowned, stating the obvious.

“Don’t need that little shit,” Montana groaned.

“Well, you just handed over our little shit to his brother. Not a fucking good move, all things considered,” Payne clipped back.

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