Page 14 of Buried Beneath Sin

Sagan raises a brow and I can almost hear him replyI wouldn’t have wasted the words if I had any doubts.

I look back down at the page, taking in this new information. It’s not every day you run into another killer. This is a new experience, an exciting one at that. Another person whose soul is as black as ours? How wonderfully horrific. I study the handwriting and imagine what Beatrix must’ve been feeling at that moment.

Scared? Relieved? Hopeful?

“Resigned.”

I jerk my head up at Sagan’s answer, only mildly surprised he’d known my train of thoughts. Of course he would know. Was he here, lurking in the shadows while she wrote it? I wouldn’t be surprised. Killer or not, it doesn’t matter to him, he adores our stepsister. His constant disappearances for days at a time to come here and watch her are a testament to his obsession. It’s been a strange shift to see Sagan go from indifferent to obsessed. Henevergets attached to anyone or anything. For our stepsister to unknowingly have her claws deep into my brother is amusing.

Up until this point, I’ve dismissed any notion of changing my mind on our well thought out plan. But maybe Beatrix deserves more of my attention.

As I tease the edges of the page, the sound of soft, hurried footsteps captures both of our attention. For half a second, Sagan and I go utterly still with surprise. Then we’re bursting into action. I grab the door of the wardrobe and yank it open. To my relief, there’s nothing inside. I step in and pull the door closed, not shutting it completely so that I can see out. Sagan slides behind the door to the conservatory just as it flings open.

A curvy young woman storms in a half-second later. The cardigan she wears billows behind her as she enters, and the sound of her slippers slapping against the dirty tiles follows herin. She doesn’t go very far, instead stopping abruptly in the middle of the room. At this angle, I can barely make out her profile but I can see her left hand. It trembles while it curls into a tight fist at her side. Tilting her head back, she sucks in a deep, steadying breath.

“Beatrix Rosemary Starr!”

My stepsister flinches at the sound of her name on her mother’s lips. It’s her only reaction. She doesn’t turn around nor does she reply. Beatrix simply stands there, breathing evenly. A thundering of angry footsteps starts up and draws near.

“You are a rotten, worthless child! I should’ve aborted you. For the moment you came into my life, it’s been miserable, and now look. I didn’t think it could get worse, but here I amsufferingfrom my affliction because my daughter hates me!” The screaming draws closer.

Still Beatrix doesn’t respond.

“That man in there loves me. He understands my illness andhelpsme. All you do isruinme!” The shrill voice is nearly at the door. A second later, a frail, angry woman flies into the room with her fists raised. “I’mtalkingto you, Trixie!”

Beatrix whirls around at the last minute, her hands coming up and catching her mother’s wrists before they can strike her. I choke on my gasp. As Beatrix stares coldly into her mother’s face while the woman screeches and howls like a wounded cat, I get a full view of my stepsister.

I’ve seen pictures of her from afar and while she sleeps, thanks to Sagan. I’ve even seen pictures of her when she was much younger—in her early teens. None of them do Beatrix any justice. My sister is beautiful. Her brown skin is flawless, her nose is small and pointed, and her lips are full and tempting. Her oval-shaped face gives her a natural look of innocence but the arched brows, flashing eyes, and the way she tilts her chinin a challenge give Beatrix a slight edge. The fresh split lip and bruised right eye add to her darker side.

My cock stirs.

A potential killerandshe’s striking? I know what this combination can do. We have Knox as proof that the two can go hand in hand quite well. As I stare into Beatrix’s lovely face, I watch as she shutters her expression until her face becomes unreadable.

“I’m sorry I’m such a disappointment,” she replies.

Oh my… Beatrix’s voice is deep and smooth. Like a radio host, seducing their listeners to stay tuned for the latest R&B tune. A shiver works its way down my spine at the sound.

“And I’m sorry I haven’t been able to turn a blind eye to yourafflictionsor to how abusive your husband is to you. It pains me to watch you suffer, Mom. I just want it to stop. I wish you wanted that for yourself.”

“Then fucking kill yourself already, or at the very least, get the hell out of my house!” Lauren Starr screeches.

Beatrix sighs, her shoulders sagging while her face hardens. “The minute I try to leave, you always call me back.”

“I won’t, not this time!” her mother vows before spitting at her daughter. The wad of spit falls to the ground before it can hit my stepsister. “Patrick might not be perfect, but at least he’s notyou! Better yet, he sees the real you! Don’t think the two of us are stupid. He tells me how you bat your eyes at him, that you spread your legs and beg for his attention. You’re trying to steal the best thing that’s ever happened to me! I won’t let you, you filthy whore!”

My stepsister stiffens at the same time a sizzling heat ripples through the connection with my brother.

“I wouldnevercome on to Patrick,” Beatrix promises darkly.

“Liar! I’ve seen it for myself—the way you flirt with him when you think I’m not looking,” Lauren hisses.

“Your happy life, the love you have for that man—those are the only lies in this room,” Beatrix says, her voice void of any emotion. “I told you what he did to me. What he’sbeendoing to me, Mom. He’s a horrible human being who doesn’t care about the business or?—”

Lauren yanks a wrist free only to backhand her daughter. Beatrix’s face jerks to the side. Then, to my surprise, Lauren Starr throws back her head and laughs. My stepsister turns her head to face her mother once again. The blank expression on her face hides any of her true emotional responses to her mother’s words and actions.

“You really think herapedyou? In what world do you think you’re worth the trouble? You’re pathetic, trying to get me to hate a man who only wants to see me happy. Well it’s not going to work, Trixie.”

If I thought Sagan’s reaction earlier was heated, the blaze of his fury now is hotter than I’ve ever felt before. Goosebumps trail down my arms as I try to let his intense, unexpected, murderous rage wash over me while staying unaffected.

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