Sinful Love (Sinful Nights #4)

White Box. Supposedly, according to what Annalise had said, it meant something related to Charlie’s dead brother. Everything Charlie did circled back to his brother.

John stopped in his tracks when he realized what its meaning could be. Because Annalise had told him Charlie’s last words. You know nothing about my brother. Nothing about how he was buried.

John’s blood chilled as he realized Charlie’s brother, at age nine, must have been buried in a white coffin. And so Charlie named his businesses for him, and for the way he left this earth.

It was oddly commemorative and terribly twisted at the same time. Which described the man who’d built, raised, and run the Royal Sinners. Terribly twisted.

The ways in which people remembered the dead could turn them into killers or into lovers.

John chased away the philosophical thoughts, pushing his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose as he refocused on the call. “Crazy to think this all started from a speeding ticket,” he remarked as he paced the other direction.

“Right? But that’s how it goes. Nothing happens for a long time and then one misstep and all the dominoes fall.”

They were falling indeed. In the last few weeks, the most notorious street gang in the city’s history had been effectively dismantled. John would never have been able to do his part without the help of the Sloan family—each of them had played a role.

That was fitting.

As he finished the call, he stared briefly at the sky, the sun poking through clouds.

Today was something like justice, and that was all he could ask for in this line of work.





CHAPTER FORTY-NINE


Gently Annalise pushed open the door to Michael’s room, nerves thrumming through her body. Instantly, his eyes swung to her, the blue irises sparkling as he lay in the hospital bed.

“Hey,” he said, his voice scratchy from the anesthesia.

“Hi,” she said, unable to contain a crazy grin, or the relief that flooded her heart. She crossed the few feet to his bed and drank in the sight of him. An IV drip snaked out of his arm, and his chest was bandaged. His face was tired, but a gorgeous smile tugged at his lips.

“You look beautiful,” she said.

“I’d laugh, but it would hurt too much.”

“Are you okay?” she asked, wonder in her voice, still amazed, still overjoyed that he was here.

“Yes, and that’s what they tell me, too. But I suspect the morphine helps that feeling.”

She smiled once more and raised a hand, wanting to touch his face, his arm…him.

“You can touch me,” he rasped, answering her unspoken question.

She bent forward, touching him first with her lips, brushing them across his cheek. A quiet sigh escaped him. “I thought you were going to die,” she whispered, the words spilling out with a fresh round of tears that fell on his cheek. She’d hoped to be strong. She’d told the other women she would be. But it was hard, so damn hard, and now all the relief and happiness bubbled up and poured out of her in these salty streaks along her face and his.

“Evidently, a lot of people did,” he said wryly, his sense of humor as robust as ever. “The doctor said she wasn’t sure if I was going to make it through, either. Can’t say I’m bummed that I don’t remember a thing that happened after I hit the parking garage floor.”

“Do you want me to tell you?”

He nodded, and she pulled back. He patted the side of the bed that wasn’t tangled up with his IV. “Sit with me, and tell me about the last six hours of my life.”

She didn’t need to be asked twice. She perched on the side of his bed and held his hand in hers. She cleared her throat, took a breath, and met his gaze.

Then she told him everything that had happened.

*

His mouth fell open as he took in the enormity of what happened after Charlie had shot him. But that moment when Charlie’s gun had aimed at Annalise still played before his eyes. He gripped her hand tighter. “He was aiming at you. My only thought was to protect you.”

“I know.” She ran her finger across his hand.

“And then you…you finished it,” he added, wonder in his voice.

She winced, her face squeezing as if in pain.

“Are you okay?”

She nodded. “Yes. Just processing it all still. But I’m more than okay.”

“Wow.” He shook his head, trying to make sense of everything. “You killed the man who tried to rip my family apart.”

She nodded, tears slipping from her eyes. “You’re the first man I loved, and the last man I’ll ever love. I wasn’t going to let anyone take you away from me.”

Even though it hurt, even though he wasn’t supposed to move, he lifted his arms, reached for her face, and held it in his palms. “I’d die to save you,” he whispered softly, reverently.

With fierce eyes and a strong voice, she answered, “I wouldn’t let you. Because I’d kill to protect you, and to protect us. I’ve got plans. I’m planning on loving you for a long, long time.”