Owned by a Sinner (Sinners 2)

Her features are drawn tight with worry, her arms wrapped around her waist. “Can I look at your arm? Please.”

I glance down at the bloodstain, then nod.

She gets the first aid kit, then points to the couch. “Will you come sit down?”

I unbutton the vest, and pulling it off, I drop it on the floor before taking a seat. I take off the shirt as well, then stare out the windows at the city lights.

I could’ve lost her.

Kiara sits down next to me, takes out an antiseptic wipe, and gently cleans the flesh wound. “Tell me if it hurts,” she whispers.

I glance down at her, taking in her pale face. “Rule number one; never trust anyone.”

She nods.

“Everything can be a trap. You have to be on guard at all times.”

“Okay.”

“You never fucking run toward the gunfire. You get your ass as far away from it as possible.”

She lifts her head, her eyes locking with mine. “You can’t expect me to leave you behind?”

“I lost five men tonight, and it fucking hurts, Kiara. If I had lost you?” I shake my head. “You fucking listen to Declan and run. I can’t do my job and worry about you.”

I can see she disagrees, but at least she nods.

“Right now, we’re fighting the Sicilians. Finn’s gathered the remaining men after we wiped out most in Toronto a couple of months back.”

She keeps cleaning the wound as she listens to me giving her a crash course in all things mafia.

“I’m sorry about your men,” she whispers. She swallows hard, and meeting my eyes, continues, “I know it’s no excuse for the loss you’ve suffered, but I didn’t know that would happen.”

“Of course, baby. This is all on me.” I nod at the box. “Show me what’s in the box.”

“Just a minute.” She wraps a bandage around my bicep, then gets up and gets the box from where she left it in the foyer. She comes to sit down again and takes the lid off.

I look inside, seeing a deflated balloon, a photo of a much younger Jimmy laughing with Kiara. She can’t be much older than four in the picture, chocolate ice cream covering her mouth. There’s a little crown, two bottle caps, and various other things.

“It’s all my memories. Every time I got to see Dad.”

To me, it’s nothing but random stuff, but to her, it’s every moment she spent with Jimmy. It’s her entire past.

Sorrow hangs heavy over our heads.

I lean back against the couch, letting out a sigh. “Tell me the story behind the deflated balloon.”

Tell me something happy.

“It was my birthday. I was five. Dad blew this one up.” Her lips curve up in a sad smile. “He almost hacked up a lung because he was still smoking back then.” She looks at me. “He never missed a birthday.”

She sets the box down on the coffee table, then turns to face me. “I’m so sorry about your men.”

I shake my head. “It’s the life we live.”

“The reason Dad didn’t want me near the mafia.”

I nod, now understanding why Jimmy kept her hidden.

“But you protected me.”

I nod. “And Chicago. Finn wants to take over.”

She scrunches her nose in disgust.

But he won’t.

I’ll never let him get his hands on my city and woman.

Lifting my arm, I wrap it around Kiara’s shoulders and pull her against my side. I press a kiss to her hair. “How are you holding up with everything that happened?”

She wraps her arm around my waist, pressing closer to my body. “My head is spinning.”

I’d think so. Today’s been one hell of a fucking day.

The video alone traumatized her, never mind the fucking gunfight. I tug her closer, so she straddles me, then let her rest against my chest.

Rubbing my hand up and down her back, I keep pressing kisses on her hair, temple, and cheek. “As soon as we're done with all this shit, I’m taking you away for a weekend.”

She wraps her arms around my neck and presses her face against me. “I just want to hide in your arms.”

“Hide all you want, baby,” I murmur. Closing my eyes, I hold her as tight as I can.

Time slips away as we comfort each other, only our whispers disturbing the silence.

Chapter 40

Liam

After we’ve showered, Kiara climbs into bed.

I sit down on the side, calling Will.

“Warehouse is clean, and we barbequed the Sicilians,” he answers.

“Good. Our men?”

“Taken to the morgue. The families will be notified, and I’ll make the payments tomorrow.”

Rubbing tiredly over my forehead, I say, “I want to know when the funerals are.”

“I’ll find out.”

“Thanks for everything.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

Ending the call, I set the device down on the bedside table. I pick up my Glock, and turning so Kiara can see, I say, “This is how you change a clip.” I go through the procedure, then hand the gun to her. “You do it.”