Whiskey and Wry (Sinners, #2)

Kane glanced over at the woman who was elbow deep in blood and offal, then wrinkled his nose at his partner. “You are a sick fuck, Kel.”


“I was being serious. Woman’s got some mad smarts. Intelligence is the new nose job, didn’t you know?” Kel tapped at the tablet he’d brought in from their vehicle. “Your brother’s got some brains too. He spotted a bunch of envelopes with the vic’s name on them. Turns out they’re rental payment slips for the property. All the money’s gone….”

“Of course,” Kane drawled.

“Yeah, of course.” Kel shot him a grin. “But your baby brother noticed a couple of them had been taped closed, and whoever opened them, plucked up the tape instead of tearing the envelopes.”

“Chances are, all that’s going to show us is who taped them closed in the first place. So what?”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought too, but hey, you remember what it’s like pulling your first case.” Sanchez poked at Kane’s ribs. “You want to find that one thing that blows everything wide open. So you dust everything, image everything, and then beg, borrow, and steal anyone’s time to do your labs or processing.”

“Oh God, were we ever that young?” Kane rolled his eyes, remember all too well the first time he’d signed his name as primary. “So I guess this is important how?”

“Because your baby brother—”

“Inspector Riley Morgan,” Kane reminded him. “I feel bad enough pissing in his mouth on this one. Let’s at least give him rank, Sanchez.”

“Okay, Inspector Morgan… which is like half of the damned force… pushed the guys down at the lab to run the initial discovery for him. Called in favors, blah blah blah.” He turned the tablet and showed Kane the initial fingerprint rundown the lab sent over for Riley to review. “But you’re not going to fucking believe whose print is on one of those envelopes.”





Chapter 9




You say you’re done with me

But every time I turn around

I see your shadow

Keeping us forever bound

I can feel you near

Haunting a few steps behind

A ghost I cannot shake

A nightmare I cannot find

—Forever Bound




THE man felt right under him. Their legs tangled and his skin hot from Sionn’s hands, Damien fit perfectly into the hollows of his body, hips writhing against his and fingers exploring places left untouched for too long. Even the taste of him was perfect, a hint of icy cool, coffee, and wild.

It was wrong. Sionn knew it. Damien would slip out from between his fingers, an ivory-skinned dream caught only for a moment of craziness.

They hadn’t had enough time to do much more than skim the surface of who they were, but Sionn knew he’d lose Damien, no matter how hard he tried to hold onto him or promised to keep him safe. There was something untamed about the man, and Sionn tried to tell his heart not to get too attached.

His heart had no intention of listening.

“God, please… if you’re a benevolent God”—Sionn’s Gaelic hummed in the hollow of Damien’s throat, leaving a trail of kisses—“help me make this last. Please.”

Sionn was pretty sure if he tried hard enough and focused on it, he could hear God laughing his ass off somewhere above them.

“Tell me you’ve got some stuff,” Damien muttered, arching his back when Sionn’s teeth found his collarbone. “Dude, seriously, I’m about to pop.”

He didn’t want to rush it. Not if there wasn’t a guarantee that the man he held would be back in his bed. Damien’s wicked mouth begged to be kissed, and Sionn was more than willing to do just that, if only to shush the guitarist’s needy mewling. Hearing his name in Damien’s rolling growl was driving him insane, and his cock thickened painfully when he thought about plunging into the man’s body.

“We’ll take our time, Damie.” Sionn toyed with the man’s nipple, flicking its tip with his nails. It pearled, hard and flushed as pink as Damien’s nibble-plumped mouth. His skin tasted of rain, and it prickled where Sionn left it wet and slick. “It’s been a long time for me too.”

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d held a man. Not since before Vienna. He could barely look at his life before then without thinking of that single moment of blood and regret.

Something shifted inside of him, something as wanting as Damien’s fiery lust and long, hot body. Sionn longed to erase that Viennese nightmare. Mute it. Drown it in the quench of Damien’s tightness until he came back up, molten from the need of the man. He would lose himself for a few hours, bathe in Damien’s need and come out of it, cleansed.

If only Sionn wasn’t certain he was going to lose a part of himself to Damien in the process.