Page 18 of Sweet Sin

Until she gets sent away again and then gets out on parole.

Which probably won’t happen. My father allows one fuck up, but never two.

If she ends up behind bars again, she won’t see the light of day ever again.

And I’m not talking about being in solitary.

Someone on the inside will take care of her.

I’ve seen it happen.

And no matter how much I put on an act, pretend it doesn’t matter.

I can’t shake the thought that what I’m doing is wrong.

And I hate it.

A week later…

A little girl is buried. She was four years old, blond with vibrant green eyes. Her mother’s heart, her father’s pride. Her big sister’s baby.

Caught in the crossfire.

The gunman?

Sasha Munoz.

“I’m out,” I say out loud when I hear the news. “I’m so fucking out.”

To my surprise, my mother and father allowed me to leave. I don’t know whatever happened to Sasha. I never looked into it because I don’t care. She may not have meant to kill a small child, but she did.

She fucking did.

If I’d done my job—if I hadn’t looked the other way—Sasha wouldn’t have had access to a firearm. Wouldn’t have been back at work.

And that sweet little girl would be alive today.

In the long run, though, does it matter? The organization found someone to fill my shoes. To let criminals slide through the system.

Before Sasha, I hadn’t received a visit from Gunnar or anyone else for nearly a year. I complained to my parents on more than one occasion, asking them to let me out of it. When so much time went by, I thought maybe they’d finally relented.

Until Gunnar came sauntering in, telling me about Sasha Munoz.

My mind is finally working again.

None of this should’ve surprised me. But it did. I was actually going to try to be happy here in the small town. Although screwing one of my parolees the first week on the job was a big mistake.

But damn. Falcon Bellamy makes me happy. He says he’s innocent, and I believe him.

I should know better.

After what I’ve seen in my lifetime, I know the word innocent has many meanings.

I don’t know what these guys think they’re going to do with me. My grandfather is their boss. Or is he? Surely he can’t be behind this.

He would never let them touch me.

The image of my brother’s body lying in a pool of blood is seared into my head for eternity.

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