Forgivable Sins (Bellandi Crime Syndicate 2)

"My friend over there says he heard you sing once. Said your voice is as pretty as you are. I told him that wasn't possible. How about you prove me wrong?" he pushed, his hand coming so close to mine that it almost touched my beer bottle.

"I'm not interested in proving anything to anyone," I hissed. "I sing when I want to. Not on command."

"Aw, don't be like that, baby," he murmured, reaching toward me until his finger skimmed against my forearm. I flinched back, standing from my stool quickly and gathering up my guitar. "Hey, where are you going?" He was to his feet before I could make my retreat, blocking my path to the door. I knew it was ridiculous. He couldn't hurt me in a room full of witnesses, but the inability to escape, being trapped, was too familiar to the way Connor had cornered me all those months ago.

"Let me leave." My voice shook with the words, and I knew a crowd was forming, to my horror.

His hand touched my arm again, successfully gripping lightly. There was a genuine apology on his face, seeming to realize he'd frightened me somehow. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"Let go of me, please."

"Sweetheart," he whispered, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"I believe she said to let her go. Given she's Bellandi property, you might want to listen," a male voice interjected, and I turned to find Rex staring him down from the bar. "You alright, Samara?"

The offending man dropped my arm quickly at the mention of the Bellandi's, and I turned to give Rex a grateful smile. "I'm good, honey," I whispered, ignoring the pointed look he gave me as he studied the way I rubbed at my arm as if I could wash the other man's touch off me. "I best be getting home. I'll see you."

And like the coward I was, I adjusted my grip on my guitar and bolted out the door. "Mike will walk you to your car!" Rex called, and I didn't bother to argue. Mike took up his place at my side as we made our way outside, a silent sentry that I appreciated in the face of the realistically minor altercation inside.

"You okay?" he asked when we reached my car.

"Yeah, just ju

mpy. One of those days, you know? Got a bad feeling," I lied, giving him a self-deprecating shake of my head. He slipped his card into my hand.

"You call me if you need anything, Samara. My sister," he paused, seeming to consider if he should voice whatever thoughts coursed through his head. "She was jumpy like that after a bad breakup. He out of the picture?" he asked.

"I'm working on it," I admitted, not even bothering to deny the silent accusation behind the weight of his comparison to his sister.

"You call me if he gives you a hard time again. A man like that deserves to know what it is to be a punching bag for someone bigger than him." I huffed a laugh, because bigger was an understatement. Mike was a massive mountain of a man who made even Matteo seem small, when you considered pure size, anyway.

"Yeah, Mike. I'll call you," I agreed, hefting the car door open.

"Liar," he accused. "You'll take a beating before you call me. Ain't no shame in asking for help when you need it."

I turned wide eyes his way, having never heard the normally calm, mellow man sound even remotely annoyed. The snap to his voice seemed uncharacteristic of him, totally at odds with the man I'd known casually for over five years. "You don't know a damn thing about my situation. He's out of the house, doesn't touch me. I got myself into this without help, and I'll do this without help too."

"Bellandi claims you as family. Why isn't it already taken care of?"

"Because I'm not actually family. I take care of my own problems, and I don't need a man to fix my problems for me." I dropped into the seat, looking back up at Mike through the open door. "I'd appreciate your discretion. This is something I just need to take care of on my own. Can you respect that?"

"Of course. Not gonna take your choice away from you."

"Thank you, Mike," I whispered in relief.

"Don't thank me," he grunted, tapping on the roof of the car before backing away. "Just use my number."

Six

Lino

I sat behind my desk, staring at the screen as if it would manifest a report from Campbell. It hadn't even been ten hours since I'd set him on Connor Walsh, so expecting him to have found something groundbreaking in that time was ridiculous and impatient. Even for me.

It was late, another late night at Indulgence, although it was a Tuesday and not as busy as Thursday through Saturday. The window at my back showed the club floor, the door to my office closed to keep the music out.

I didn't want to deal with anyone's shit.

I didn't want to be there at all, but I'd been putting in extra hours so I could step back and let the managers step up more and hire a new one to oversee. With Matteo's permission, we'd decided that Indulgence was ready for me to be less involved with the day-to-day operations and add it into my more passive business interests where I acted as the distant owner, even though Matteo was technically the owner of all the Bellandi properties.