Sins & Needles (The Artists Trilogy #1)

We didn’t speak much to each other during the drive, as the rolling green hillsides dissolved into the craggy desert. The moment we hit the I-10, it felt like we were coming home. I felt like I finally had a home. It’s too bad home had never felt so frightening.

I felt so bad for Camden, my heart more occupied with his than with my own. It was easier that way. I didn’t want to think about what I was going to do or what was going to happen to me afterward. I just wanted Camden to be okay, for his family to be back together with him. I hoped Sophia wouldn’t hold it against him, I hoped, even though it hurt my heart to think this way, that she’d forgive him. After all, they had a son together. If anything, their relationship desperately needed to be repaired, more than ours had.

I couldn’t believe how easily her brothers had handed her over to Javier, their own sister and nephew. I supposed there was a chance that Javier lied—that he never paid them off with the money we stole, that he kidnapped Sophia and Ben in the night. But here’s the funny thing about Javier. As much as I despised him, as immoral of a human being that he was, he rarely lied. And he was right, he always kept his promises. I didn’t have to admire him for it, but it was the truth.

That was the only reason I felt a bit of peace as I sat back in the passenger seat of Jose. The only reason why I had some hope for them. I knew Camden, Sophia, and Ben would walk away from this and with the fifty thousand dollars. Camden had the chance to really start over, to become Connor Malloy for good. And, after the way her family had treated her, I wouldn’t be surprised if Sophia and Ben would join him.

Which reminded me. I brought out my notebook and tore a piece of paper out.

“Camden,” I said, trying to write on the dash as he took the exit for Palm Valley. “I’m writing down all of Gus’s contact info. You’ll need him for your IDs and if you ever get into any trouble.”

“What are you talking about, Ellie?” he asked, voice shaking. “If there’s any trouble, you’re the one calling Gus because you’ll be with me.”

“You know we have to be ready for any situation,” I said, avoiding his eyes. I folded the piece of paper, leaned over, and stuck it in the pocket of his cargo shorts. “If you want to be a good con artist, you’re going to have to start thinking that way too.”

“Ellie,” he warned.

“He’s an ex-LAPD officer and he lives close by,” I went on. “He knows people, he knows everything, and he’s always on my side, you got that? He’ll be on your side, too.”

He gripped the wheel. “I don’t like this,” he said, shaking his head, his jaw tense.

“I don’t think we’re supposed to like this,” I told him. “That’s the point.”

“If you try anything stupid…” he said.

“Me?” I asked, managing a smile. “You’re the one I’ll have to keep an eye on so you don’t go all Dirty Harry on him.”

“Some guys deserve the Dirty Harry,” he muttered.

Together we took in a deep breath as the car sped on. The tattoo on my leg was feeling tight, but somehow, the one on my arm was itching more.

Thirty minutes later we were in Palm Valley. My nerves were returning, misfiring. When we passed the road where my uncle’s house still was, I nearly choked on my tears. I thought they’d all disappeared but I didn’t think I’d ever stop feeling this way. The pain ran far too deep. It was in the ground, seeping up into me wherever I stood.

“Pull over,” I told Camden when we were about two minutes away from Sins & Needles. He did and stopped in front of a For Lease office building.

“You’re not going to make me promise you something,” he said. “Because that’s what they say in the movies, the person who never comes back.”

I reached over and grabbed his head with my hands, kissing him thoroughly. When we broke apart, my skin was tingling, my lungs breathless.

“That,” he managed to say, sneaking in another kiss, his eyes exploring mine, “is pretty much the same as a promise. The kiss goodbye.” He could barely get out the last words. My heart heaved.

“No,” I told him, tracing my fingers along his jaw, “it’s not a goodbye kiss. It’s just a kiss. I love you, Camden McQueen.”

My lip began to tremble, eyes stinging with fire. He looked stunned. I felt stunned. I couldn’t help how I felt. I couldn’t help the way I was telling him. That I was telling him before it was all too late. It was time for me to make amends, and I’d do so loving him, come what may.

He kissed me so hard I thought I might break. Somewhere in there a sob escaped his lips, or maybe it escaped mine. It didn’t matter—we were only one, we’d always been, always been the same. Our lips were wet, the salt of tears hitting our tongue. It wasn’t a goodbye kiss, it was the opposite. It was the start of something that would last forever.

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