Sexy as Sin

Ignoring Kat, I count the seats and then glance up at my uncle to say, “How many are coming to dinner?”

“Cill–” Kat starts, raising a hand but Reed stops her, murmuring softly, “It’s okay.” I don’t have time to react to them as my uncle answers, “The same as always. Ten.”

“We’ll need to make that eleven,” I state and then stalk to the back where two armchairs with old rubbed leather are seated under the windows.

Snatching one of them, I drag it across the room to make eleven chairs around the table. “I hadn’t realized Kat stopped coming, but that mistake has been rectified,” I call out across the empty room. It’s maybe fifty feet from my uncle to me, but there’s not a damn thing that separates the tension.

In only hours all the patched men will be upstairs in the office for church and after that, it’s Sunday dinner with all our families. Or that’s how it used to be.

Ten.

The number is so damn low.

When did the club dwindle to that? It’s not until the legs of the chair are under the table that it hits me. There used to be nine in church alone.

What the fuck happened?

“I can go,” Kat speaks and Reed silently watches her.

“You’re not going.”

As she stares back at me wide eyed and Reed glances between the two of us, the only thing that races through my mind is that I should be the one leading church. I was lined up to be president.

“We need to talk,” I announce to my uncle and he’s silent, his deep brown eyes boring into mine. I add, “When are we talking?”

“With her here?” the prick dares to question.

Agitation wars with my common sense and anger bristles within me.

“Cillian, calm down.” Kat’s voice is meek, so unlike her.

“Calm down, man. Let’s talk,” Reed adds. All the while, my uncle only watches. Finn does the same although it’s different. Finn has the decency to look confused and lost. His hands raise and he asks what’s going on. He doesn’t know what’s wrong and that’s obvious.

My uncle does, though.

“I left and you turned your back on her,” I say, then look my best friend in the eye and he stares back at me like I’ve sucker punched him.

“It’s not like that, and you know it.”

Just as I make my move toward Reed there’s a crash downstairs, the door being thrown wide open and a deep voice I don’t recognize bellows, “We have a warrant to search the premises!” The stairwell of this old place is narrow and the four cops who climb the stairs show one by one, guns pulled and at the ready. Three men, one woman, and none of them look friendly to me.

My heart pounds as I take them in, knowing full damn well I’m on probation and that there’s a gun in the waistline of my pants.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“What the fuck?” Finn roars from behind me, and Reed takes Kat by the shoulders, pulling her back as the cops enter. Two continue up the stairs and two stand in the doorway as we each raise our hands in the air.

“We’re unarmed,” Finn tells the two male officers at the same time the pres questions, “Warrant for what, exactly?”

I can’t stop staring at Kat. I’m about to lose her again. In the same goddamn place I did years ago, and she didn’t want to come in here. She didn’t want to do it.

Fuck, I fucking hate myself. Heat flows over my skin. Reed’s look of shock must match my own.

Poor Kat stares up at me as I walk quietly to her with eyes full of terror that dart to my waistline. She knows all too well I never leave unarmed. You never know, in this life, when you might need it. Especially when you’re fresh out of prison with blood on your hands.

After a round of clears the officers lower their weapons. The two upstairs slowly make their way down.

Uncle Eamon holds an expression of near annoyance. “The fuck is this?” he asks and snatches the warrant from the tallest of officers who holds it out. They’re all dressed in their blues and make their way in just as Kat backs up and presses her back into my chest, like she can hide me from them.

My poor hellcat. Regret won’t let go of me as it continues to bury itself deep down.

With both of my hands steadying her shoulders, I’m prepared to tell her I love her and I’m sorry. To whisper it into her ear as the officers ask for identification for each of us and Finn argues that we don’t have to give them that.

Instead I’m met with her hand, reaching up my back and then into my waistband. I struggle to keep a straight face as she takes the gun.