Page 13 of Sinning for Santa

I want to point out that lying is a sin, but I suspect Father already knows.

“Do you want to continue the discussion we were having in the confessional while we wait?”

Do I want to discuss how I went back to the sex club tonight? How I was so close to giving in and participating?

“No,” I rush out, remembering how I confessed what I’d done, and the shame that washed through me knowing how disappointed Father Peters would be given I promised him just last week that I wouldn’t return to Cloud 9.

It’s too late for him to save me now, though. Especially after what happened in the booth with that man.

The devil.

My eyes, the traitors that they are, automatically seek out the man that holds my life in his hands. A man fit to be the devil just as Father Peters suggested.

It’s like he knows when I’m looking at him, those dark pools darting to mine and flaring with something sinister.

I’m going to die.

It’s in this moment that more people arrive, bursting through the doors like they own the place, and perhaps they do with the way they wear their expensive suits. Even the female accompanying them oozes power.

Why do I feel like I’m on the movie set for the Godfather?

A couple of them eye me, one of the younger men peruses me playfully as they all walk past, clearly checking me out before the deep gravel of Devon’s voice scolds him.

“Keep your fucking eyes to yourself.”

His glare is fierce as he stares down the newcomers, who don’t seem the least bit worried.

“You call us out so close to Christmas to help your prickly arse, and yet you treat us so disrespectfully?” the peruser says with humour lacing his tone, and the others in his party laugh.

“Don’t pretend like you were busy doing important shit.” Devon rolls his eyes.

“You got that right.” The only other female here giggles, standing next to the peruser. “He was trying to work his charms on a couple of wine stupored women that stumbled into Marick’s from a Christmas party. His charm wasn’t working.”

“Hell, Liam. Fallon knows you too well.” Devon smiles, and wow… that smile.

The way his lips pull wide, his white teeth flash, and dimples sink into the dark facial hair lining his jaw and lower cheeks is a sight to behold. Even his eyes seem to smile,which is such a contradiction to the cruel mask that he’s had on most of the limited time since meeting him.

“Pfft. My sister is just jealous she wasn’t getting any action.” The peruser, whose name is apparently Liam, tries to brush it off, but the fact he leans in to whisper something in his sister's ear a moment later, gives him away.

He’s pissed.

“Conrad.” Devon nods to the oldest guy as they shake hands. “Thanks for dropping by.”

“You need some cars?” Conrad asks and Devon nods before he starts filling them in on what happened.

Well, at least that’s what I think he’s doing since they stroll out of ear shot.

A minute later, another man walks in dressed all in black like he’s some sort of Special Ops guy. Not that I’d know. I’m only jumping to that conclusion from TV shows and movies, but as I eye the gun on his hip and another in a holster on his upper thigh, it really is the only thing I can think of as to why he’s dressed like that.

“Miss Summers.” Father Peters regains my attention, and I peel my eyes from the military looking man. “The Marx family is… Let’s just say, above the law.”

As Father Peters gestures his head to the newcomers, my brows disappear into my hairline at his words.

“No one is above the law,” I whisper and he shrugs.

“Some people are.”

I scan the space again, taking in the many bodies and noting that they all seem to work seamlessly as they clean up the evidence of what happened here.

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