“I learned from the best, old man.”
Confused, I silently beg Sin to tell me what’s going on, because this no longer feels like a simple crash and grab job. It’s darker, more treacherous.
He doesn’t look at me.
The Collector does though. Turning from Sin, his gaze skims my body with detached interest. “You’re not his usual type. You’re smaller, more…” He waves one hand in the air, as though searching for words. “Tits and ass.”
When he sees Sin’s reaction, he grins, his white, wolfish teeth a slash across his face. “A lesser man would commit murder for a woman like you.” He gives Sin an impenetrable stare. “Wouldn’t he?”
“Careful. I’ve got a headstone with your name on it,” Sin warns.
“See?” The Collector glances at me like we’re sharing a private joke. “You’ve known Sin for a couple of months, and he’s already willing to die for you.” His tone turns biting. “Pathetic. What about you, Temple? Would you die for him?”
Sin blocks my view of The Collector. “Your issue is with me. Leave her out of it.”
“Don’t threaten me, boy. The fact you’re still alive is a mistake I’m willing to fix. Temple knows what I’m talking about. She’s done it before.”
No.
Please, no.
Don’t bring that up now.
The Collector maneuvers himself until he’s facing me. “Haven’t you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie, while the world threatens to crash around me.
The Collector’s eyes bore into mine, stealing my darkest secrets. “Yes, you do. You almost killed your father.”
My blood runs cold. “No, I—”
“Tried to strangle him with a cell phone cord, if I remember correctly.” He smirks, as though recounting a funny memory. “Ingenious use of leverage. I laughed when I heard about it.”
My tongue feels like sandpaper scraping against the roof of my mouth. “How did you—”
“How did I know? It’s my job to know. And if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s getting information.” Like the past is written in my features, he lists the atrocities against me. “Rape, abuse, neglect, psychological manipulation. Your father racked up debts along the West Coast with his gambling, prostitutes, and drugs. He was foolish enough to steal from me, if you can believe it. Me.” He plants a hand on his chest, like the notion is ridiculous. “Fucker deserved to die. Pity the police got to him before you finished the job.”
Agreed.
Dad was a useless junkie whose only thought was how to get his next fix. It didn’t matter what he had to do or who he had to hurt. If it promised a high, he’d do it.
Even hurt his only daughter.
Fear, fury, disgust, and helplessness swirl inside me. The combination makes me sick. But I won’t react. Not here, and not in front of a man like The Collector. He can go screw himself.
I’d done the right thing. I protected myself when no one else did. Forced into a life of misery, I did what I had to, to survive. And I don’t regret my actions. I’d kill my father every day of the week if it meant I could escape the nightmare he created.
After the court hearing, I stayed busy. With my file locked, I was free to make a new life for myself. I kept to myself, worked hard, and studied harder. I did everything I could to craft the future I wanted. And no one, not even The goddamn Collector, is going to take that from me.
“You did me a favor, Temple,” the mob boss continues. “But I’m not the kind of man to return it.”
And I’m not the kind of woman who expects it. “My dad was a certified asshole. I wished him dead a million times and in a million different ways. Over the years, I saw and did stuff no kid should have to. If there’s one positive to come from all of it, it’s this: I learned to fight. I’ve got him to thank for that, and you to thank for reminding me.”
Shifting past Sin, I stand before the man who haunts Bayside’s nightmares. “Hurry up with whatever it is we’re doing here. I’ve got better things to do than listen to you talk all night.”
Dark pools of animosity shimmer across his chiseled features like water reflecting off stone.
Sin takes my hand, pulling me beside him once more.
Heartbeat erratic, I wait for The Collector’s next move.
“Very well.” He takes the remote from his pocket and presses a different button, opening the trapdoor.
From it saunters Snow White, her expression bored. “He’s coming,” she tells The Collector in a detached tone. Moving to the window, she leans against it and inspects her nails. She might as well be waiting for a damn bus.
I glance at Sin, wondering what the hell is going on.
He doesn’t pay me any attention, because his stare is fixed on two massive dudes, one covered in tattoos. They’re dragging something behind them, the heavy bulk thumping against each step.
When I realize who it is, I instinctively step forward. “Saint.”
“Don’t,” Sin orders.
Covering my mouth with my free hand, I choke back a scream. “Oh my God! What’s happened to you?”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Temple
Saint’s face is barely distinguishable. Bruises paint his cheekbones, and one eye is swollen shut. Blood seeps from a deep cut on his lip, and his clothes are filthy and torn.
“What did you do to him?” I scream. Mob boss or not, the sight of Saint hurt is enough to make me want vengeance.
Over the past few weeks, Saint and I have found an easy comradery. He dishes shit out, and I dish it back. He’s made me smile more times than I’d care to admit. Which is why seeing him like this hurts.
Sin glares at his father. “You sick fuck. You think you can put your hands on my brother and get away with it?”
“Stupid boy. I own this town and everyone in it.” The Collector strolls toward Saint. Grabbing him by the hair, he yanks Saint’s head back, peering closely at his face. “My men have been busy. I like what they’ve done. It makes looking at my spawn bearable. I can barely recognize him now.”
“But you’re their father,” I exclaim, shocked at the hatred in his tone.
“It’s a curse I’m happy to break.”
Desperate to understand yet not wanting to know, I ask, “Why would you do this to your own family?”
“You already know why,” The Collector returns. “You were willing to kill your father.”
“In self-defense,” I throw back at him. “The guy screwed up my life from the moment I was born. What have Sin and Saint ever done to you?”
“They breathed.” It’s the viciousness of his declaration that shocks me most. There’s no deliberation or weighing up the consequences of his words. He spits them out like a venom that’s been polluting him for decades.
Rage rolls off Sin in waves.
“You had a choice, Temple. To let your father continue his life, or end it. You chose to put him in the ground. The fact you didn’t manage to is irrelevant, because the intention was there.” He glares at Sin. “And now it’s time for my son to make a similar choice.”