Page 34 of Born Sinner
I glare up at him, his smug accusation as cold as my brother’s soul. “What the hell did you hear?”
My date leans in, his breath hot on my cheek. “Everybody’s saying you fucked Troy Davis at Sam Colton’s party.”
Emotion clouds judgment, and I don’t think; I swing, a damn impressive right hook catching him across the chin.
“Son of a bitch!” he yells, releasing my hair to cover his face. “What the fuck?”
Holy shit, I have no idea what the hell just happened. It’s as if the brand on my hip has infected my blood with venom. I’m drunk with power and feeding off the poison coursing through my veins.
Maybe I’m not as innocent as everyone thinks.
“I’m getting out now.” I smile sweetly, the glassy confusion in his eyes fueling my sadistic enjoyment. “And if I hear a word around campus that anything happened between you and me other than a kiss goodnight, your football career will be over faster than Troy’s.”And if Troy’s unfortunate warehouse destination is any indication, his life as well.“Are we clear?”
Alex’s face blanches. “Get out of my car, you crazy bitch.”
Opening the passenger’s side door, I blow him a kiss and make my way toward my apartment, a strange smile on my face.
Maybe I didn’t catch a butterfly tonight, but I caught the scent of something way more potent.
My own darkness.
Chapter Thirteen
Sam
Edier is watchingme closely again.
He’s had me locked in a cage of scrutiny ever since I returned to New York. He knows I’m distracted, but he’s choosing his moment to question me about it.
He’s so much like his father in that respect. Patience is a virtue in the Grayson family. The senator once told me how he’d tortured a man for five days before he finally broke him. Slow and steady... An extracted tooth here. A slipped confession there.
Edier has been taking notes.
“Finish him,” he orders, turning away from the bruised and bloodied man hanging by his wrists from the meat hook—suspended between life and death.
I take out my gun and pull the trigger, making the Russian my fourth kill in as many days. Murdering the last of my boyhood along with Savio the snitch.
People try to take advantage during a power change. It’s like they think the incoming king has cracks of stupidity in his crown. The moment Edier stepped foot in New York, the Russians started flexing their muscles. A couple of trusted Santiago dealers ended up with their throats slit, so retribution was demanded.
After this week, no one will be questioning Edier’s authority in this town again.
Twenty-six dead.
A Bratva cell in flames.
Even the Italians down on Canal Street have stopped strutting their shit like peacocks on a day outing.
It scares me how easily I’ve slipped into this new life. It’s like a designer suit with bloodstains that’s been tailored just for me.
I find Edier waiting outside the meat warehouse.
“Tell Reece to get rid of the bodies.” His face is still as fuck, no flickers of emotion, but you know what they say about those kinds of waters... “You did well.”
“Do I get a glitter sticker and a lollipop?”
Edier stares at me for a beat before his lips start twitching. “There he is.... Sam the sarcastic pain-in-the-ass. I was beginning to think you’d undergone a personality transplant at that fancy college of yours.”
“Ex-college,” I correct, as he folds a piece of gum into his mouth and pockets the wrapper. He chews slowly. Methodically. A twenty-five-year-old cartel prince with the habits of a high school chick.
