Page 32 of Beautiful Sinners

Hendrix cracks an eye open.

“She wants to go back to Darlington,” I inform him.

He lolls his head to the side to face me, the set of his jaw like stone. “The fuck she is.”

“Why don’t you go tell her that because she’s not listening to me.”

I sweep an arm out to where she has barricaded herself in the restroom. I could easily get in if I wanted to, but I know if I did, it would lead to a fight I would lose. Regardless of what I said, I would give in to what she wanted. I’m pathetically clutched by the balls when it comes to her. Because she owns my ass. I’m so screwed.

Hendrix scoffs. “When has she ever listened to me?”

He has a point.

“She seems to be handling things well, considering everything that’s happened,” I comment.

He glances toward the front of the plane where she’s holed up in the lavatory. “I’m no doctor, so I don’t know what kind of psychological shit she’s dealing with right now. But what happened this morning, what she did. And then her breakdown. And now? She acts like everything is normal.” He drags a weary hand down his face. “Fuck, I don’t know.”

I reach across the aisle and grasp his arm. “I’m worried about her, too.”

I’m at as much of a loss as Hen is on what to do. We’ll need to watch her closely and support her in any way she needs. Make her see a doctor if it comes down to it. Dierdre should have done more to help her, not feed her lies and pretend to be her fucking adoptive mother. My sister has a lot of explaining to do.

“How are you dealing?” he asks.

How am I dealing? Not good. I don’t know up from down right now. And I’m so damn angry.

“I’m going to kill Aleksander.”

“Hate to say I told you so, but we should have done that years ago. And now that he knows she’s alive—”

“I know!” I practically hiss, trying to keep my voice down.

Hendrix sits up, throws his legs into the aisle, and leans over my way. “Then why did you open your big fucking mouth and tell him who she really is?”

I thought it was impossible to get angrier. Hen heard her screams. He knew what Aleksei would do to her. Aleksander was the only person who could stop his brother. I didn’t know she would take everyone out and kill the doppelgänger bastard.

“You would have done the exact same thing, so don’t you dare throw that in my face.”

Con walks out from the back room, scratching his head which makes sections of his hair stand up at odd angles. The swelling on his face has gone down, but the deep purple and blue bruising is more vivid.

He looks around, and I know he’s searching for Aoife. I thumb over my shoulder.

“Need coffee,” he mumbles, but he makes a beeline to the bathroom and parks himself right outside the door, waiting for Aoife to emerge. Even though Con had my back with Cillian, he’s been acting colder than usual with me since we left the estate.

While I was on my knees and cursing the heavens, a startling epiphany smacked me in the face. Dierdre faked her death around the same time my father sent Malin to kill Aoife and her parents. The contemporaneousness of past events is piling up like an overflowing mound of putrid dog shit.

“I need to tell you something.”

My pulse jumps erratically just thinking about how I’m going to make Malin suffer in the most horrific ways imaginable. For every inch of burned skin that mars Aoife’s body and for every slice of the knife that marks her pale skin, Malin will experience them tenfold by my hand.

Hendrix grunts out a complaint of irritation. “Can it wait until after we’ve landed?”

I know the longer I stall, the more enraged he’s going to be at Con and me.

“Fine.”

I easily acquiesce because the discussion about my father’s involvement in what happened to Aoife isn’t something I’m too thrilled to have with him. I don’t even know if my father is alive or where the hell Malin is. Or Mom. I don’t share a lot of love for my mother because she was cold and loved my father more than she ever loved me, but I hope she wasn’t one of Aleksander’s casualties. She also suffered under Francesco’s controlling fist.

Turning his earlier question back onto him, I ask, “How are you doing?”

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