Sin takes his time scanning my face. “I just have.”
We stay like this for a long moment. Our gazes search, steal, and claim an integral part of each other, never to return it.
“We shouldn’t do this,” I murmur.
Dipping his head, Sin sucks my lower lip into his mouth. “Too late.” He takes my hand, leading me from the room. “Come on. Angel will bitch if we’re late.”
“We?” I try to steal my hand back. “I’m only crashing here until Jack has lost interest in me. I don’t need to sit in on your family meeting.”
Sin’s grip tightens. “You’re a part of the plan.”
“What?” I stop. Forcing my mind into overdrive, I consider everything that’s happened since first meeting Sin a couple of weeks ago. Gradually, the pieces start to fall into place. “Oh my God.”
Sin glances over his shoulder, watching me carefully.
“You wanted me to fight Eve,” I say slowly. “No, hang on. You set it up so I’d fight her. You told her to say that stuff about me screwing Professor Nate so she could get a reaction. But why?” Searching the room for answers I don’t have, I think hard. “And there’s more. You asked me on a date because you had to, not because you wanted to. I wondered why the sudden interest, it didn’t make sense at the time. You’re the son of The Collector, for God’s sake. What could you want with the daughter of….” My voice trails away. “Holy shit. You meant for me to overhear your conversation with Saint about Dad’s garage. What went down tonight wasn’t a coincidence, it was planned.”
Sin is silent.
It’s like I’m staring at a stranger. “Which means you also wanted me in The Collector’s office. Saint said it was the second initiation.” I shake my head, needing his answer but not wanting it at the same time. “I don’t understand.”
“Like I said, you were always a part of the plan.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Temple
As Sin and I enter the living room, Saint pulls his cell from his pocket, checking the time. “And with a minute to spare. You work fast, bro.”
“Screw you.” He kicks Saint’s feet off the coffee table before settling into a nearby chair.
“Sorry, dude. You’re not my type. I like to go all night, if you know what I mean.” Saint winks at me.
“Look at her like that again and you’re dead.” Sin glares.
Throwing his head back, Saint laughs. “Fuck, this is brilliant. You’re so far gone, man. I bet you couldn’t find your balls in a nationwide search.”
The thought of Sin falling for anyone, let alone me, is… weird. Especially, when he was never meant to like me in the first place.
Confused, hurt, and wanting to get to the bottom of it all, I perch on the edge of an empty seat. It’s expensive and comfortable, which makes me even more uncomfortable, because I know I won’t let myself get used to staying here.
Acting on instinct, I take in floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking what I’m guessing is the ocean, though it’s too dark to see the water from here. I look at the glass sliding doors, open-plan living area, and stairs leading to the second and third stories.
Two exits.
Both partially blocked by expensive, masculine furniture, and dangerous, handsome men sitting in them.
Tiredness washes over me. “So, what’s this all about?”
The three guys share a look. Unspoken meaning passes between them. It only ends when Sin nods, Saint shrugs, and Angel curses under his breath.
“Fine.” Angel takes the phone that’s resting on the coffee table and throws it to me. “Here, it’s a burner. Read the messages.”
Curious and trying not to show it, I open the message app. The more I read, the more questions I have. Once finished, I drop my hand into my lap. “None of this makes sense.” Glancing between them, I hold up the cell. “You expect me to believe that this is a conversation between you and my dad?”
Legs sprawled wide like a king surveying his court, Sin nods. “Yes.”
I quickly reread the messages. “And he wanted you to torch the garage? He actually asked you to do it?”
“Yep,” Saint confirms.
“As a favor,” I finish flatly.
“That’s right.” Angel rests his chin on his steeped fingers. “Dez asked for our help.”
I put the phone back on the table, then walk toward the windows, my mind traveling a million miles an hour. “That conversation could have been between you and anyone. There are no names and no places mentioned. There’s a vague reference to what I’m guessing is The Dunes, but that’s it.” I glance at Sin over my shoulder. “You honestly expect me to believe it’s Dez when it could just as easily have been one of you?”
Sin rubs his index finger across his full lips. “What other choice do you have?”
My eyes drop to the movement, but I tear them away again. Turning, I stare out the window into the darkness. “Let’s think about this rationally. There are three ways I can interpret this. Option one, I call you guys out as liars and leave. Option two, I call you out as liars and stay. Or, option three, I believe you.”
“And stay.” Sin’s gaze bores into the side of my face. The heat is so intense I falter at the intensity of it.
“Y-yeah.”
“Then, it’s decided. You’re staying.”
“No, nothing is decided. I’m going through options, not committing to them. Jesus. Are you always this….” My hands flail in the air, doing nothing to clarify what I’m referring to.
He smirks. “Always.”
Angel takes the burner, scrolling through the messages. “Would you two hurry up and fuck already? It’s late, and we have shit to do.”
“Told you you’d lose the bet,” Saint mocks.
“Screw you,” his cousin mutters. “The sooner they bone, the quicker we can get work done. We’re on a timeline here.”
“Well?” Sin demands.
Torn between wanting to run and knowing I’ll stay, I pause, eventually admitting, “Fine, I’ll play along for now. But for the record, I’m pissed at you.”
He shrugs. “You’ll get over it.”
“Maybe. But so we’re clear, I won’t get under you again.”
His eyes flare.
Saint laughs, and Angel ignores everyone, too busy rereading messages.
“Okay,” I begin, needing to wrap my head around everything. “Let’s assume Dad contacted you, asking you to burn the garage to the ground.”
“I’m detecting sarcasm,” Saint muses.
“You think?” I mock. “I mean, come on. Why would he want you to do that? Sure, The Collector forced him to use the place as a drug stop, but what good would come from getting rid of the place? That garage was his life.”
“Emphasis on was,” Angle mutters.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Angel looks at Sin.
Irritated, I cross my arms. “Well?”
“Dad wanted to expand the drug stop,” Sin mutters. “He told Dez to start accepting drop-offs of illegal firearms. Knowing Dad, he wouldn’t stop there. He’d keep adding to the fucking list until your garage was a one-stop shop for every shady fucker on the west coast.”