Sinful Desire

The game moved too quickly for Ryan to talk to Marshall about anything more than their strategy on the ice. The opposing team demolished them for the first two periods, rattling his teammates with penalty after penalty. The last period wasn’t much better, and Ryan had to hold one of his guys back from starting yet another fight.

“Cool off, man. It’s just a game,” he told him before the ref threw the guy in the penalty box.

The game ended with a loss for his team, and his guys cursing up a storm, frustrated by their own poor play.

Ryan hardly cared today. Marshall had texted him earlier that he had an update, so when the other men headed to the showers, Marshall pulled him aside. They took off their skates, and then trudged up a few rows, removing bulky gloves before parking themselves on blue plastic seats.

The ice rink was mercifully empty.

“Got some news for you. You told me your brother-in-law had gotten a tip that Stefano wasn’t as active in the Sinners at the time of the murder, right?”

Ryan nodded. Brent had shared that detail during the pool game at his house, something he’d heard from Mindy. But everything was hearsay still, and Ryan was hoping that could change soon.

“I think I know why.”

“Tell me,” Ryan said, and a mix of both desperation and anticipation gripped him. He wanted a fact. He prayed Marshall was dealing in that currency.

“Seems like Stefano had a broker,” he began, and Ryan furrowed his brow in a question. Marshall made a rolling gesture with his hand to explain. “Like his guy who set up his hits.”

The ice in the rink had nothing on Ryan right now. He was chilled to the bone. His body turned subzero just hearing how that killer operated. “This guy set up murders for hire?”

Marshall nodded. “He brokered them. The Sinners were all about drugs then, and stealing. Fencing stolen goods, some territory battles—the usual gang stuff, to be honest. But, sadly, there’s money in murder, too, so the broker started working that angle for his boy Stefano.” Marshall shook his head in disgust. Ryan gritted his teeth, trying to tamp down the treacherous ball of rage that lived inside of him at times like this. “Sounds like he’s one of the guys the detectives are looking for.”

“T.J. and K.,” Ryan said in a hiss, the initials slithering out of his mouth. “That has to be them. His friends. His fucking accomplices. Who the hell are they? Do you know their names?”

“That’s the problem. They’re slippery. They’re smarter than you’d expect a bunch of street thugs to be. The Sinners were quiet for awhile, sort of fell apart, but are now rising up again, and the word is this guy has played a role in some serious shit that went down. But we don’t have a name yet. Not a real one, at least. Detective would probably sell an arm for a name.”

Ryan probably would, too.

*

The week flew forward, hurtling toward the benefit in a heady blur of emails and texts, of days and nights, of sex and sleepovers, of dinners and drinks, and time…so much time together and so much desire for more time.

Tonight was the next big step.

from: [email protected]

to: [email protected]

date: July 25, 4:58 PM

subject: I’m so not nervous at all.

You swear they don’t bite? I ask because, well, you bite.

from: [email protected]

to: [email protected]

date: July 25, 5:05 PM

subject: You have nothing to be nervous about.

My brothers better not bite you. As for Shannon, I make no promises.

from: [email protected]

to: [email protected]

date: July 25, 5:17 PM

subject: Dress code?

What are you wearing?

from: [email protected]

to: [email protected]

date: July 25, 5:22 PM

subject: The usual.

Pants, shirt, tie.

from: [email protected]

to: [email protected]

date: July 25, 5:35 PM

subject: Now you’re turning me on.

I’ll wear a dress. You’re shocked, I know.

from: [email protected]

to: [email protected]

date: July 25, 5:37 PM

subject: On a scale of 1–10…

How turned on?

from: [email protected]

to: [email protected]

date: July 25, 5:41 PM

subject: Zero.

Now I’m nervous again. I need to go get ready. Jumping in the shower. See you soon.

from: [email protected]

to: [email protected]

date: July 25, 5:42 PM

subject: Breathe easy, beautiful.

They will adore you.

*

She was ready.

After her pulse had slowed to a normal level, and her rapid breathing settled. After she gave herself more pep talks than she had ever needed when pitching to investors or proposing media companies use her compression services. And after taking more deep breaths than she’d ever required before walking into a billionaire’s office with her head held high and asking him or her to generously support a cause.