Forgivable Sins (Bellandi Crime Syndicate 2)

"Are you sure about that?" The giggle that came from my parted lips felt like pure happiness, and I never wanted the moment of bliss to end.

But the ringing of Lino's cellphone in his back pocket drew him away with a squeeze to my hips. "Yeah?" he grunted into the phone. "You're sure?" He sighed. "I'm on my way."

"It's okay," I reassured him, because he looked hesitant to leave me. I knew shit happened; work happened.

"Connor showed back up to discuss terms with the guy we made a deal with. We're going to go grab him." It didn't escape my notice that he avoided names when he talked about these people, only ever giving me vague concepts of what went on in that part of his life. My heart warmed, because I knew without a doubt that it was mostly about protecting me. The less I knew, the better.

"Okay. Just be safe. I can't lose you," I whispered, stepping up to press a kiss to his cheek.

"You'll be okay?" he asked, and the hesitance in his voice made that warm heart swel

l. I wanted to show him just how okay I would be, but there wasn't time.

"It's a beautiful day, so I think I'll do some more yoga outside. I’m so sore from Sadie working me over, the stretching helps. I won't leave the property, of course, but—"

"That's fine," he grunted. "Emilio is on duty. So I'll just let him know on my way out that you'll be outside so he can keep an eye out."

He turned, dashing up the stairs to get dressed. Obviously wearing a suit would be of critical importance when grabbing someone to take to an undisclosed location and kill them. I tried not to think about it.

Tried not to think about what it would be like for Lino to come home and for me to see the blood on his clothes, knowing it was my ex-husband's. Regardless of the way our marriage had ended, I'd shared my bed with him. Given him pieces of myself that I'd never shared with anyone but he and Lino.

It seemed sort of poetic in a really fucked up way that the man who killed him would be the only one who knew me better.

Forty-Nine

Lino

I couldn’t believe it was almost over, that Connor was almost out of our lives and his debt wouldn’t threaten my woman ever again. It felt like we could finally move on with our lives, settle into a real routine.

I hopped out of the car with a smile on my face as soon as I got to the abandoned warehouse where the meet was set. Matteo and the rest of the guys came out of the woodwork, already waiting on me.

Ryker grinned, tossing me a pistol. Like I hadn't brought my own.

He didn't have much use for them, given his preference for torture and bathing in the blood of his enemies, but even he had to admit in situations like this they came in handy. He took one side, Matteo at the other, and with the rest of our guys behind us we shoved open the warehouse doors. Our contact, Gerald of all the fucking names, stood from the table and backed the fuck away as fast as could be.

"He's all yours. This means we're square, right?" The weaselly bastard asked Matteo as he made for the side door. Connor never turned to look at me, his suit clad body and blond hair setting off all the rage inside me.

"Is this some kind of fucking joke?" I asked, stepping forward to spin the bastard in his chair. Brown eyes stared up at me, full of fear and trembling. Brown eyes and about five years too young if I had to guess.

"What do you mean?" The way Gerald's brow furrowed made me hang my head in frustration.

"That isn't Connor Walsh, you fuck. Where is he?" Ryker growled at the loan shark.

I met Matteo's wide eyes when Gerald answered. "That's the man who made the deal with me. If that's not Connor Walsh, then who is he?"

"Fuck!" Ryker grunted, stepping up beside me as I went for the door.

"Samara," I said, and he nodded. There was only one reason someone would pretend to be a man I wanted dead. Fear and fury filled me in equal measure as I stormed outside.

We'd been stupid enough to fall for a fucking diversion and left my wife with only one guard to protect her.

I dug my phone out of my pocket, dialing her number to tell her to get inside.

To get to the panic room.

But it rang and rang and rang.

She was fine; she'd just left her phone in the house.