A Necessary Sin: The Sin Trilogy: Book I

He tosses several photos across his desk in my direction. “Take a look for yourself and you’ll understand why.”


I pick up the stack of photos—all of Bleu dressed in an iconic uniform I recognize. In one, she’s standing next to a sign: FBI Academy. Quantico, VA. The others clearly display her accepting a diploma and then posing with it while giving a thumbs up. “Where did you get these?”

“The home of Harold MacAllister, her father.” He scatters the photos and scours through them. “This is an interesting story. It becomes more and more intriguing the deeper you dig.” He holds up a picture of Bleu with a man, both dressed in FBI uniforms. “You see, it turns out Bleu followed in her father’s footsteps—being a part of the FBI is a family trait.”

I’m numb. It’s a fucking blow to learn Bleu’s been lying to me all this time, but my brain can’t make the connection. The States shouldn’t have any kind of interest in anything we do. “The FBI can’t touch us.”

Abram gets up and goes to his liquor cabinet. He pours two whiskies. “I don’t give two shits about the FBI. However, I care a lot about Bleu claiming to be a photographer from Memphis, Tennessee, when the evidence tells us otherwise.”

There has to be an explanation, one that explains why Abram is wrong and I’m not in love with a woman who has betrayed me. “I don’t know, but I intend to find out.”

“It’s not your job to find out anything. Leith is the one who originally let her slip in when he hired her. That’s a mistake he’ll pay for, but it was you who brought her into your bed and made her part of this family. It’s your responsibility to take her out.”

He isn’t suggesting I safely send her home. “You want me to kill her.”

“I want you to make good on the promise you made.” I know the exact one he’s referring to. I said I would be the one to do it if she turned out to be something different than she claimed to be.

“I remember but …” I love her.

“After the first betrayal, there is no other.” I know the motto well. Many brothers have died for far less. “You know there’s no other way—absolute and unwavering loyalty to you and The Fellowship. You must demand that from any woman in your life.”

I see the evidence but I refuse to accept it. “There has to be an explanation.”

“She has betrayed you and The Fellowship. She can never be trusted now. She must die.”

I can’t do it. “I love her. She’s mine. I’ve claimed her.”

“Do you love her enough to die in her place?” I do but killing me wouldn’t save Bleu and it would never satisfy Abram. He’s thirsty for her blood.

“Listen very carefully, Sinclair. Bleu played the part of the perfect woman for you—because it was her job. That’s why she was so easy for you to love, but none of it is real,” Abram says.

I thumb through piles of photos of Bleu and see a woman I don’t know. “Everything was a lie—a figment—right in front of my face, and I didn’t see it.” What does that say about me?

Abram leans back in his chair, his fingers interlaced, hands clasped. “From the heart’s point of view, this must feel like an immense betrayal. But for Bleu, it was just business. She was here doing a job she was hired to do and she was damn good at it. Don’t knock yourself too badly. Think of it as a lesson well learned.”

“I don’t know how to kill the woman I love.”

“Quickly—it’s the only way. Before your heart, or dick, has time to interfere.”

“I’m losing my lass, the only one I’ve ever loved.”

“Your heart is telling you to mourn the loss, but the truth is that your lass was never real. She didn’t exist.” Try convincing my heart of that.

“I understand she made you fall in love her. That’s why I’ll overlook you killing her quickly and painlessly.”

He’s right. Again. But for the life of me, I have no idea how I’ll kill this woman I love so dearly. I can’t imagine a darker sin.



* * *



I’m sitting on the sofa in the pitch-black dark when Bleu comes through the door. “Sin?”

“In here,” I call out.

“I thought the storm might have knocked out the power.” She walks over to the lamp and switches it on. “Why in the world are you sitting in here with the lights off?”

“I’m listening to the rain.”

She notices the drink in my hand. “And you hear it better in the dark while having whisky?”

“Aye, it clears my mind.” I’m relieved she came back. Although her luggage is sitting by the door, I thought she’d figured out I’m on to her and fled. “You weren’t here when I got home.”

“I left a note telling you the zipper on my suitcase was broken.” She walks over to the coffee table and picks it up, showing me. “I had to run out and get a new one before the store closed.”

She comes to me and sits in my lap. Her hand cradles my face. “You don’t seem your usual self. What’s troubling you?”