Guilty As Sin (Sin Trilogy#2)

Asa stepped toward him again. “Come back here, and I’ll bury you first.”

Lincoln climbed into his truck and drove away. I sank to the floor, tears I didn’t remember crying tracking down my face.





11





LINCOLN





Present day

“YOU LOOKING TO DIE TODAY, SON?” Magnus Gable calls from the door of his house, shotgun in hand.

What the hell is it with Gables and meeting people with guns? I’ve braved one before to talk to Whitney, and I’ll do it again and again.

“No, sir. I’m here to talk to Whitney. I was on my way to her aunt’s house when Commodore told me I’d find her here instead.”

“Don’t know that she wants to talk to you, boy. She might shoot you, though.”

“That’s a chance I’m willing to take, but before she does, I need to tell her I’m sorry for this morning. I’d really like to apologize face-to-face.”



Commodore told me everything he’d learned about Ricky Rango and his mom from Whitney, but I didn’t need to hear the details to know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she wouldn’t have come back to try to snake a piece of the Riscoff fortune. She could have had it before, but she made it clear that she wanted nothing to do with me or it.

In fact, Whitney’s the only woman I’ve ever met who wanted me despite my last name and our money. But I fucked that up in the end too.

When I called Commodore, he warned me to leave her alone. I don’t give a shit what the old man says or threatens. I’m not letting him manipulate this situation anymore. I’m going to fix what I broke this morning, and pray Whitney will give me a real fresh start, even if I don’t deserve it.

Last night is burned in my mind, and so is the softness in her eyes this morning before I blew it all to pieces.

“Might want to say that a little louder, son. Not sure she can hear you.”

At any other time, this might be embarrassing, but I put aside my pride. “Whitney, I’m sorry.”

“For what?” she yells. “Being an asshole?”

I take a few more steps forward, even though I’m making myself an easier target. “For not waiting to hear what you had to say before I jumped to conclusions.”

“You mean never trusting me?”

I look up at the sky. She had to go straight for the kill.

She’s right. I have trust issues, especially when it comes to women. My father and Commodore instilled them in me from the time I was a kid. They made it clear that every woman would want something from me because of my last name.

But Whitney was never like that.

“Yes. I should’ve trusted you.”

“Why should I believe you now?”

“Oh, that’s a good question, girl. I like it,” Magnus crows from the doorway where he acts as the peanut gallery while blocking Whitney from my view.

I wish I was doing this without an audience, but when you fuck up like I did, clearly you don’t get that luxury. “Because I wouldn’t put myself out like this for anyone else.”

“I don’t think that’s a good enough explanation,” the old man says.

“Please, Blue. You don’t have to believe me yet, but I’m going to prove it to you. I want to protect you and your family from whatever comes out of this mess. I’ve got rooms for all of you at The Gables. The press won’t be able to get to you there. You’ll be safe and have your privacy back.”

I hear a humph from Magnus before he steps to the side and Whitney’s dark head peeks out of the doorway.

“My entire family?”

“I ain’t goin’. I can take care of myself,” Magnus says, gesturing to the sky with the shotgun.

“Everyone you can talk into coming. I already have Hunter and Cricket working on your aunt and your cousin.”

Whitney’s expression is skeptical, and that’s fair. I can work with skepticism—as long as there are no bullets flying in my direction.

She glances at Magnus. “Can you give us a few minutes?”

He eyes me shrewdly. “You try anything shady and I’ll pepper your ass with buckshot, boy.”

“I understand, sir.”

Magnus backs up, and Whitney comes out of the house to meet me in the driveway. It kills me when I see she’s still barefoot.

“I’ve got your shoes in the car. I’m so fucking sorry, Blue.”

“Screw the shoes, Lincoln. What’s the catch?”

“What catch?”

“Riscoffs never do anything without an angle or a motive or strings attached. So, what is it this time?” The woman who trusted me this morning has been replaced with a more cautious and cynical one.

“I deserve that. No angle, except for keeping you away from the press, which is why you left LA to begin with, right?”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “I’m not going to sleep with you.”

I jerk my head back. “Is that what you think of me?”

Her face stays expressionless. “I’m working on not thinking about you at all. I’ve let people hurt me too many times, including you. For years, I thought that’s all I deserved. But you know what? I was wrong. I deserve a hell of a lot better, and I’m not settling for anything less ever again. Based on this morning, and how quick you were to see me as the enemy, I don’t know why I’d give you another chance to get close enough to hurt me ever again.”



Buckshot would have been less painful than Whitney’s swift and efficient delivery of the truth.

She’s right about everything.

I may have aged ten years, but my knee-jerk reaction this morning shows that I haven’t learned a damn thing. I don’t want to be another guy on the list of people who hurt her. I want to be the man to protect her from the world.

“I know I fucked up, Blue. I don’t deserve another chance. I’m not even going to ask for one this time. Right now, all I want is to give you a safe place to go while I try to figure this out.”

She watches me, her somber expression creasing in confusion. “Why even bother then?”

“Because I have something to prove—to you and to myself,” I say, and I’ve never meant anything more.





12





WHITNEY





I DON’T KNOW what Lincoln’s game is, but I straighten my shoulders and meet his gaze dead on. It’s been a long time since I’ve had the courage to stand up for myself, and making that speech, telling him how much he hurt me, gives me confidence I didn’t know I could have.

He may have something to prove, but so do I.

I’m done being the girl who lets the rest of the world dictate her future. It’s time to figure out what matters to me and own it.

Lincoln’s offer is probably the best possible solution for avoiding the media shit storm Ricky’s mom unleashed, but I don’t trust him not to change his mind.

“How do I know you’ll keep your word and won’t turn us all out the second you decide I’m somehow to blame for this?” I pause, deducing how he must have known I was here. “Or did Commodore tell you everything already?”

Lincoln’s gaze narrows. “I knew the second you walked out my door that I made a big fucking mistake. I’m trying to fix it. Please, let me protect you the best way I know how.”

Dealing with the paparazzi in LA was the worst part of my life for the last ten years. And then when they turned feral after Ricky’s death? It was straight out of a nightmare.

While I’m not going to trust Lincoln blindly, the smartest thing I can do right now is take the protection he offers and keep him at a distance. I don’t want to subject Jackie and Cricket or Karma and her kids to the aggression I’ve endured with the media, and this may be the only way to avoid it.

I lift my chin. “Fine, but I’m only doing this for my family.”

He nods. “I understand. Thank you for letting me help.”



IF YOU WOULD HAVE TOLD me two hours ago that I’d be driving through the front gates of The Gables with Lincoln Riscoff to stay for an extended period of time, I would have asked where the crack you were smoking came from. But here I am, and Jackie, Karma, and the twins will be here shortly too.