Guilty As Sin (Sin Trilogy#2)

“They’re so cute. Friends of yours?” the woman asks.

“Yes.” I keep my answer short, hoping she’ll take the hint, not that it’s worked so far.

Shockingly, Karma comes over toward me instead of heading to the opposite side of the pool. “Decided to finally risk leaving your room?”

I cringe. Maybe this was like wishing for a life ring and someone throws you one—but it’s on fire.

“Thought I’d get some sun and swim.”

“Hi, I’m Emmy.” The woman beside me stands up and holds out her hand. “We were just chatting.”

Karma eyes the lady and shakes her hand reluctantly. “Hi.”

“Are you from here too? I was just about to ask your friend what I need to make sure I try before I leave town. I hear Gable has some pretty interesting history and infamous residents, past and present.”

“Karma, the girls look excited to get in the pool. Do you want me to go swim with them?”

She shoots me a glare. “I don’t need your help, Whitney.”

The lady’s kind smile turns into a grin. “And here I thought she’d never admit who she was.”

Karma’s eyes light up. “Who? Whitney Gable Rango? Yeah, that’s definitely her.”

I give my cousin the most intense side-eye I can possibly manage. “I think it’s time for me to go now.”

The woman reaches out and puts a hand on my arm as I stand. “Now, don’t go running off just when things are getting interesting.”

“Who are you and what do you want?” I drop any pretense of politeness.

“I could be your new best friend.”

“I don’t need any new friends,” I tell her as I grasp my stationery to my chest.

“You really don’t want to leave until you hear the proposition I’ve got for you.”

“No, actually I do want to leave.”

“I’m interested in what your new friend has to say,” Karma says, and I want to smack the bitchiness right off her face. “Are you a reporter?”

Emmy nods with a smile.

“I don’t know how you got up here, but you need to leave before security comes to show you out. That’s the first call I make as soon as I step inside.”

“Such a buzzkill, Whit.”

“Shut up, Karma.”

Emmy’s eyes practically light up. “You two are just precious. My audience will love hearing about how Whitney Rango gets along with her family.”

“How big of an audience?” Karma takes a step closer to her.

Instead of replying, the woman produces two business cards and hands one to Karma before shoving one at me. “Emmy Richards. Daily Post. I would love to talk to you, Whitney. I think your side of the story would be of great interest—”

“I’m not interested.” I start to turn away, but she slips the card between my hand and the papers.

“You don’t want to set the record straight? Tell everyone how you’ve been crucified in the press for causing Ricky’s suicide when there’s another reason he could’ve done it?”

“What other reason?” Karma asks, fanning the flames of this woman’s ego.

“Don’t you need to go watch your kids?” I ask my cousin, shooting a look toward the girls where they’re both dipping their toes in the water.

“Leave my kids out of it. I want to hear what Emmy has to say.”

“You’re clearly the smart one in the family.” Emmy speaks directly to Karma as if I’m not even here.

“Obviously.”

“Did you know there’s a rumor going around that your cousin’s husband had a mistress and he really killed himself because of her?”

Mistress? I knew Ricky was cheating because of the STD, but I assumed it was some random skank and a backstage hookup . . . not a relationship.

“What the hell are you talking about?” I demand.

Emmy turns her attention back to me. “I’m just saying that it seems like there was a lot more going on with your husband than you thought, Whitney. What if you could redeem yourself? Make his fans hate you a little less? Wouldn’t that make life easier? I can help you do that, if you let me.”

A tiny shred of my soul is tempted by her offer, but I know enough not to trust her or anything she says. “I’m calling security.” I look at Karma. “You might want to take the girls back to the room so they don’t have to see this.”

She says nothing, just fingers Emmy’s card and glances at me. “How much would you pay for a good story?”

“You can’t be serious!” I step toward her and rip the card out of her hand.

“I’m not the one with a billionaire boyfriend. I’ve got two little girls to feed.”

Emmy pulls another card from her purse and hands it to Karma. “Call me. We’ll talk.”

Fuck. Now my cousin is going to sell me out to the press.





33





LINCOLN





The past

THE FUNERAL for Mr. and Mrs. Gable was a fraction of the size of my father’s, even when it should arguably have been double, especially in a town named after their ancestors.

I saw Whitney dressed in black, walking into the church between her brother and her aunt. Even with her summer tan, her face looked pale, standing out against the dark dress.

I hated that I was watching from the other side of the street instead of holding her up and giving her strength to get through this day. That should have been my job, and I’d totally fucked it up.

I sat in a black sedan outside the church for hours, waiting for my chance. Finally, I spotted a girl with brown hair slipping out the side door. Whitney’s cousin.

She was lighting up a joint when I got to her.

“Cricket, right?”

She looked up at me in surprise before giving me a short nod in response.

“Can you do me a massive favor?”

Her gaze narrowed. “What do you want?”

“I need you to give something to Whitney.”

“Oh, really? Like what?” She flicked the ash off the end of the joint as I pulled the letter out of my pocket and held it out.

“Just . . . please give it to her. I need to see her. I have to talk to her. I swear to Christ I’ll leave her alone if she tells me to herself.”

Whitney’s cousin studied me and took a drag before puffing the smoke in my face. A moment later, she reached out and snatched the letter from me. “Fine. But don’t expect her to want to see you. She’s already cozied up to Ricky like they were never apart.”

“He doesn’t fucking deserve her, and you know it.”

Her shoulders dipped in a shrug. “I don’t think you’re the one who gets to make that choice.”

The judgment in her eyes made me want to snatch the letter back, but it was too late. She shoved it in her purse.

“You should get out of here before Asa comes out. From what I heard, he’s not your biggest fan.”

“Just give her the letter.”

She nodded, and I headed back to the car to watch the entire funeral procession leave the church, hoping for one more glimpse of Whitney.





34





LINCOLN





I DIDN’T KNOW if she was coming. My watch showed that it was already fifteen minutes past the time I’d written in the note. I glanced out the window of the cabin again, and headlights cut through the darkness.

Thank fuck. She’s coming.

As tires crunched gravel in the driveway, I hurried toward the door, pulling it open and rushing toward the car. I was two feet away when the driver’s door flew open.

It’s not Whitney.

“I told you to stay the fuck away from my sister.” Asa Gable climbed out, his fists clenched and jaw set. Ricky Rango’s head popped out of the passenger side.

She got my letter and instead of coming herself . . . she told her brother and her boyfriend. All the hope I’d been holding on to shattered. She doesn’t want to see me again.

My teeth clenched and my entire body tensed as I accepted the truth.

“If she didn’t want to come, she could’ve just ignored the letter. She didn’t need to send you in her place. I would’ve gotten the message either way.” I kept my tone flat, even though I felt like I was being shredded from the inside out.

Gable shook his head like he thought I was a dumb motherfucker. “She never got your letter, asshole, and if it’s up to me, she’ll never know about it.”

His admission rocked me back on my heels and my jaw went slack.