Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 38307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 192(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 128(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 192(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 128(@300wpm)
My stomach twists. “No body?”
He shakes his head. “None. We were young. We believed what we were told because we had to. Our mother held us together. We moved forward.”
“And now?” I ask softly.
“Now there have been sightings,” he says. “A man who matches him. Same limp. Same scar. Same build. It could be a coincidence. It could be someone who looks like him.” His voice goes slightly quieter, like the words weigh something. “But it could be him. Yet, my mother wants us to stand down.”
A chill moves through me. “That’s… huge.”
“It is,” he says.
“Why wouldn’t your mom want you to look?” I ask, and immediately regret it because it’s personal, and I’m suddenly very aware I’m talking to a man who doesn’t do feelings.
Sin’s jaw flexes. His gaze drops to the counter, then returns to me. “Because she thinks he’s gone,” he says. “Or she wants him to be. Either way, she told us to stop. To let him stay dead.” The phrase hits me like a cold slap.
Let him stay dead.
I swallow. “That’s… brutal.”
“It’s self-preservation,” he says, but it doesn’t sound like he believes it. It sounds like he’s trying to.
I sit back, absorbing it. “And your brothers are looking anyway?”
“Yes.”
“How many brothers?” I ask.
“Six,” he says. “Nash is the oldest. Banks is the tech. Crewe is the strategist. Jace and Colt are the muscle. Mack is…” His mouth tightens slightly. “Mack’s the one who looks calm but feels everything.”
I blink. “And you’re what?”
His eyes meet mine, steady. “The one who does what needs doing.”
That should not make me feel something. But it so does. It makes my chest ache in a way I don’t like. Because I recognize that kind of person. The one who carries weight so no one else has to. I’ve been that person for myself for a long time.
Sin watches me, like he can tell I’m putting pieces together. “This mission matters,” he says, voice firm, as if reminding himself as much as me. “Your case matters. If we can’t figure it out, it could get worse.”
“Worse than attempted vehicular homicide?” I ask weakly.
He doesn’t smile. “Yes.”
A silence settles between us, heavy and intimate in the worst way.
I glance at the window again, at the trees outside, the quiet, the isolation. Safety feels different when you realize how far you are from help. I feel safe with him. But safety is a strange thing. It can make you brave, or it can make you realize how alone you’ve been.
I clear my throat and look down at my coffee. “I haven’t dated in almost a year.”
Sin’s eyes flick to me.
I shrug, forcing a laugh that doesn’t land. “Not that you asked. But it’s relevant. Kind of. Maybe. My brain is… spiraling.”
He stays quiet, so I keep going because silence is my enemy.
“My last boyfriend was a joke,” I say. “Not like funny ha-ha. Like, funny in a tragic way. He called himself an entrepreneur. Turned out he was selling motivational PDFs and using my Netflix account.”
Sin’s mouth twitches.
“Anyway,” I continue, heat rising in my cheeks. “I dumped him, and then I threw myself into work. Investigations, deadlines, digging through financial records at two in the morning. I told myself I didn’t have time to date.” I glance up at him, and my voice goes softer. “The truth is, I didn’t want to risk being distracted.”
His gaze holds mine, intense in that quiet way that makes my skin feel too tight.
“And now,” I add, because my mouth has no self-preservation instinct, “I’m sitting in a safe house with you, and I can’t stop thinking about… things that are very much a distraction.”
His eyes darken slightly. My pulse jumps. I should stop. But I can’t.
I gesture vaguely between us. “This is a terrible time to notice you’re gorgeous.”
Sin’s voice is low. “Rowan.”
There it is. The warning.
I swallow, my heart banging against my ribs. “I know. I know. You’re here to protect me. You don’t do feelings. You probably have a rulebook.”
“I do,” he says.
I nod slowly. “And I’m probably breaking all of it by even saying this.”
“Yes.”
The bluntness should offend me. Instead it makes me laugh, shaky and real. “You’re not exactly reassuring.”
“I’m honest.”
I stare at him. “That’s worse.”
His gaze doesn’t move from my face. “You feel safe with me.” It’s not a question. It’s a statement.
I swallow. “Yes.”
“And that’s making everything else hit you,” he says.
My throat tightens. Because he’s right. I nod once.
Sin’s expression shifts again, the hard edges rearranging. Not soft, exactly. Just… aware. “You’re not alone,” he says. The words land in my chest like warmth.
I blink, suddenly stupidly emotional. “You don’t get to say comforting things like that when you look like you could snap a door in half.”
His mouth curves, barely. “I can do both.”
My heart does a somersault, dramatic and embarrassing. I look away quickly, because if I keep staring at him, I’m going to do something reckless. Like ask him to kiss me. Which is exactly what my brain has been chanting since breakfast.