Page 35 of Reckless Sinner

“How about this. I’ll get you the information that you want, no immediate deal needed.”

“Are you seriously talking to me like I’m some two-bit low-level family who’s asking you for protection?” I demanded, buying myself time. I was a lawyer, and more than that I was someone who knew my father well. Whatever this was, there was going to be a pretty big catch to it.

But if I played my cards right, I could find the loophole and slip free. Just like I’d always found the loopholes in the laws.

“Don’t scoff at me, boy,” my father said irritably. “I’ll get you your information. And you will keep your ear to the ground about what the D.A. is planning now that we’ve cut off their balls. Then, once you have all the information… we will decide together what is to be done about Alan Weston. Does that sound fair? You still have to be involved, but a little more agency, I think that is fair. You are my son after all, and very capable.”

If anyone else had told me I was ‘very capable’ I would’ve assumed they were talking about my skills as a lawyer. When my father said it, I felt like he was telling me I was capable of things I didn’t even know I was capable of yet, things I wasn’t sure I wanted to be capable of doing.

I examined his words from back to front, upside down, and inside out. I couldn’t see the catch—because the catch hadn’t come yet. My father obviously thought that whatever I would discover, or whatever he would share with me about Alan Weston, would be enough for him to hook me. That would be the catch. Whatever was coming in the future.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything I could do about the future right now. Not when I had no idea what kind of information would be turning up. My hands were tied—I had to take the deal, it was better than the original offer, and Dad knew it.

I wondered if this had been his plan all along and he’d made the first offer only so that I would take the second, knowing how much worse it could be, what sort of gun could really metaphorically be held to my head.

I really didn’t have a choice. It was accept the deal and my father’s help, or try and go it completely alone.

“All right,” I said.

With a man like my father, you didn’t need contracts or even a witnessed handshake. Lawyers, it was paperwork up the wazoo. My father? Your word was all he needed. He knew what you’d agreed to, and you knew what you’d agreed to. It was all bound by honor. Without honor, without the weight behind your words, you had nothing.

My word was my bond. I was in it now.

“Good, good.” I could tell that he was nodding. “All right then. I’ll keep you informed. And check in with Vincent, he’s running himself ragged.”

I bit my tongue against the smart remark I wanted to make. Pointing out that I wasn’t suddenly going to follow my father’s every order wasn’t going to help the situation. And this was my brother we were talking about. I did care about Vincent. I’d check up on him.

“Of course,” I replied. “I’ll be in touch.”

I quickly hung up before either one of us could say anything to start up an argument again.

This was possibly going to be the ruin of me.

CHAPTER16

Delaney

Idefinitely hadn’t intended on staying the night. Definitely not without sex involved in some capacity. But crying and all of the emotions that had come with it just wore me out completely. I could barely remember the end of the movie and I definitely didn’t remember being tucked in bed, although I was sure that I’d technically been awake for both of those things.

Waking up in Dante’s large, warm bed, though… I couldn’t regret getting the chance to do that, even if I hadn’t planned on it.

Dante was next to me, still asleep, his arm haphazardly thrown over me as if he’d wanted to make sure I didn’t go wandering off in the night. I rolled over and propped myself up to look at him.

The idea of people’s faces transforming when they slept wasn’t really an idea that I’d ever bought into. Dante still looked like Dante. There was no hidden vulnerability that I could only now see.

But he did look less stressed. He was asleep. He didn’t have to think about his family or any of the problems that came with them. He didn’t have to worry about a case or the tightrope he walked daily. He could just rest.

I wished that he lived a life where he could be like that all the time. Where he didn’t have to deal with all of his stress, stress he had inherited or had been thrust on him, not stress he’d chosen to carry.

“Y’know,” Dante grumbled quietly, “watching someone sleep is what serial killers do.”

“You’ve found me out,” I replied. “I’m the famous New York Ripper, I hunt down rich men and kill them in bed and steal their fancy overpriced watches.”

Dante snorted with humor and opened his eyes. I smiled sheepishly at him, feeling my cheeks heat up. “Thank you for letting me sleep over.”

“You say that like it was an imposition,” Dante replied. He sat up, and I found my gaze tracking the play of muscles on his chest and stomach—he was shirtless.

My throat went dry. “Well. I don’t know. You seem like someone who’s very protective of his private space.”

---