Stolen by a Sinner (Sinners 3)

Jesus.

When Emre notices I’ve stopped walking, he turns back and asks, “What’s wrong?”

I shake my head. “Nothing.

I start walking again, my thoughts inundated with Lara.

I’m willing to fight so she can keep smiling. So she’ll remain free.

Again I stop, and this time Emre frowns at me. “Is it the call with Mazur that’s bothering you?”

“Why the hell does he want Lara?” I ask the question for what feels like the millionth time. “She has to be related to him, right?”

“But you said he denied it.”

I level Emre with an impatient look. “Would you admit a person is family if your enemy had them?”

“Right.” He shrugs. “How old is Mazur? Did he have children?”

I lock eyes with my cousin. “She could be his daughter.”

He shrugs again. “But she was a maid.”

“We know Mazur is fucked up, Emre. He’s not the kind of man who cares about family.” I think for a moment. “He just doesn’t want her in his enemy's hands. It’s a matter of wounded pride, not love.”

“That makes sense,” Emre agrees.

I shake my head again. “But he never told Lara he’s her father? It still doesn’t add up. He would’ve used it to keep her in line at the very least.”

“Fuck if I know,” Emre gives up, trying to solve the puzzle.

After getting the shipments on the road, we wait at the back of the club for a client to arrive. I keep going over everything I know about Mazur. I’m sure the man doesn’t have children.

Lara said she came from Poland with her mother. What the hell did she say about her father?

I have to set my thoughts aside when a Mercedes pulls up. A woman in her early fifties gets out, looking like she just stepped out of a fashion magazine.

Carrying a briefcase with cash, Julia Liotta smiles at me as if I’m her next meal. The woman is ruthless. She deals in drug trafficking and sex slavery.

“Gabriel,” she purrs. “It’s been a while.”

Not long enough.

“Julia,” I nod. I gesture for Emre to take the briefcase.

Once he’s checked the contents and indicates it’s all there, Julia hands me a piece of paper with three number plates printed on it.

“I trust my trucks will have safe passage through Seattle?” she asks.

“They have one week,” I warn her. “Only product is allowed to pass through my city.”

The snake gives me a tempting smile before she turns around and casually walks back to her car, her guards flanking her.

When the Mercedes drives away, I mutter, “I hate doing business with that woman.”

“She pays well,” Emre reminds me. “At least we don’t have to deal with her often.”

“Evet.” Turning away from the loading docks, I head back inside so I can go home and ask Lara about her father.

Chapter 23

Lara

My cheeks hurt from all the smiling. Glancing over at Alya Hanim’s knitting needles, I watch as she makes a couple of stitches before I try again.

Mine aren’t as neat as hers, but she told me to be patient. Practice makes perfect.

“Selam,” Gabriel says hi as he walks into the sitting room. He presses a kiss to Alya Hanim’s temple, and it reminds me of when he did the same with me.

Instantly, my cheeks flush, and I quickly lower my eyes to the knitting needles in my hands.

Don’t beat so fast, little heart.

Feeling rattled by the unexpected affection I feel toward Gabriel, I tuck the wool and needles back into the basket and get up.

Before I can dart out of the sitting room, Gabriel says, “I need to speak with you, Lara.”

My feet come to a faltering stop, and just as I glance over my shoulder, he takes hold of my hand and pulls me out of the room.

Having his strong fingers wrapped around mine, attraction hits me hard. As my heart beats faster, I glance up at him.

He doesn’t look angry.

We keep walking until we leave the house via a side door, and only once we’re near the pool does he stop.

Turning toward me, his hand slowly releases mine as he asks, “What can you remember about your father?”

The question is so unexpected that I stare at him for a moment before shaking my head. “Nothing.”

“Didn’t your mother talk about him?”

I search my memory. “She said he died while she was pregnant with me.” I shrug, not able to remember much more. “My mom didn’t talk about him.”

“And your mother worked for Mazur since you were born?”

“Yes. If I remember correctly, she started working for him long before I came along. Ten years, I think?”

Gabriel’s eyes remain on me as he seems to think about something that’s bothering him. “How did Mazur treat your mother?”

Like last night, I’m bombarded with traumatic memories of my mother covering me with her body while Tymon kicked her.

I glance at the swimming pool, the water a refreshing shade of blue. “The same way he treated me.”