The Sinner (The St. Clair Brothers 1)

It took me a bit to calm down enough to speak. When I finally did, my voice was choked up. I was truly scared to tell him. “Y-you’re going to be s-so m-mad at me.”

The feet of Rocco’s chair scraped on the floor as he turned to face me. He reached out and clasped both of my hands and brought them to his chest. “You're family, Ky. I love you. Just tell me who it is. Whatever happens, we can work it out.”

“I—”

The doorbell rang, followed immediately by loud pounding that rattled the front door. I exhaled.

Saved by the bell. Literally.

Perma-scowl in place, Rocco pushed to his feet and huffed. “I’ll be right back.”

I nodded. While Rocco answered the door, I took the opportunity to duck into the nearby half-bath to attempt to clean up and blow my nose. Naturally, because everything in my life seemed to turn to shit lately, I was splashing water on my face when the shouting began.

Towel partially blocking my vision as I dried my face, I hurried toward the commotion. There was a loud crash followed by a dull thud that sounded suspiciously like a body hitting the floor. I dropped the towel and sprinted for the foyer. The sight that greeted me was so shocking, when I skidded to a stop I slipped on the hardwoods. My arms pinwheeled to keep my balance and my fingers scrabbled for purchase. By sheer luck I grabbed hold of a bookcase and kept from wiping out. Barely.

The teeny, tiny amount of energy I expended to get to the foyer in no way accounted for the galloping of my heart. No, that was entirely the fault of Sebastien St. Clair, in the flesh, standing in my home. Scratch the standing part. Seb was on the floor, his limbs sprawled every which way. Blood gushed from a split lip and one of Seb’s eyes was well on its way to swelling shut. Rocco towered over Seb like an avenging angel, arm pulled back, fist balled up, about to land another blow.

“Rocco, no!” Without thinking, I ran and slid between Rocco and the father of my child. Jerk or not, I didn’t want Seb to get hurt. A ham-sized fist flew at my head. Fortunately, Rocco had time to pull his punch. He snarled and gnashed his teeth.

“Kylie, get out of my goddamn way.”

I shivered. Rocco sounded so cruel my pulse skittered. I steeled my nerves and held my ground.

“No.” I hid my trembling hands behind my back.

“Kylie,” Seb said from the floor behind me. “Don’t put yourself in danger. Especially not in your… uh, condition.”

I whipped around to face Seb, whose eyes immediately landed on my midsection. My face and neck burned with shame. I crossed my arms to cover the tiny baby bump and sniffed back a sob.

“What?” I croaked.

“Fuck you, St. Clair!” Rocco bellowed so loud I startled, yet I couldn't tear my gaze from Seb. “She's not the one in danger. I would never hurt my sister! Not like you, you sick son of a bitch!”

The tension grew so thick, I could taste it on my tongue. Rocco was a lit stick of dynamite, fuse shrinking, time to detonation counting down.

Seb growled and used the back of his hand to wipe the blood from his lip, which only served to smear it around. He climbed to his feet and flicked his bright blue eyes over my shoulder to stare daggers at Rocco.

“Fuck you, Sasquatch.” Seb’s lips curled back. Blood filled his mouth, and his sneer looked positively gruesome. “I would never fucking hurt her.”

“You already did, you motherfucker! I'm going to kill you for screwing my sister and leaving her like this.” Rocco let out a dark laugh that sent chills down my arms. I turned to my brother. He was literally shaking with rage. “I should've fucking known it was you, St. Clair. You’re the only one I know who would do anything to get under my skin, even sinking so low as to pull my sister into your twisted mind-fuck games.”

There was a fraction of a second’s warning when Rocco’s muscles tensed, then he lunged. Caught in the middle, I cried out. The rest went down so fast everything blurred together. Seb grabbed my arm and shoved me behind his body. That precious moment he used to get me out of the way cost him dearly. I regained my bearings just in time to see Rocco's huge fist connect with Seb's jaw. Seb’s head snapped back forefully.

“Rocco! Stop.” I tried to get between the two men. They glowered at each other, nostrils flaring like two bulls ready to charge. Seb threw out an arm to block me.

“Kylie, don’t. I’m not going to let you get hurt. Enfant de chienne. If this trou de cul,” Seb growled what I thought were insults in French as he gestured at Rocco, who responded by raising his fists. Rocco’s knuckles were bruised and bloodied. “If he would stop acting like un Néandertal for two fucking seconds so I can explain, instead of attacking me.”

Rocco's gaze went black and, for the first time in my life, I was afraid of my brother. He looked positively murderous.

“It doesn't matter what you have to say, St. Clair. I'm still going to beat the living shit out of you. You'll be lucky if you can walk out of here when I'm done, because I have every intention of breaking both of your legs.” Rocco’s deliberate and chilling delivery didn’t shore up my confidence that he wouldn’t do exactly that.

The amount of testosterone that swirled in the air grew thick so I almost gagged. Their macho posturing and tendency to resolve things with savagery had me stressed out beyond belief. It was overwhelming. I wouldn't stand there and watch my brother, who I loved, fight Seb, who I also loved. Plus, I was furious. With Rocco for acting like I was some frail maiden whose virtue required defending, and with Seb for being kissing that woman in the parking lot. Add in the yelling, the blood, and my whacked-out pregnancy hormones, and I was done. Finished. They could kill each other for all I cared, I just knew I had to get out of there, as far as possible from their hyper-masculine fog. Of course, it was the dead of winter and I wasn't currently wearing shoes or a coat. My initial plan of storming out the front door wouldn’t work. I turned to my only other available option and took off down the hall, locked myself in my room, flung myself on the bed, and burst into tears. Mature, I know, but like I said… pregnancy hormones.

Over my hitched sobs I heard raised voices as the men continued to go back and forth. Idiots. At least there were no sounds of fists landing on bodies or grunts of blows absorbed. The shouts grew louder and louder until I realized those morons were headed for my bedroom, still arguing. I wanted to scream into my pillow. I wasn’t fragile, but I was in no shape to deal with two stubborn alpha males as they butt heads and fought over me like rabid dogs over a lamb shank.

I flipped to my back and winced. My whole body ached, the exhaustion so all-consuming even my toes hurt. Right outside the bedroom door, their squabbling increased in volume and a scuffle broke out. Someone or something slammed into the door hard enough to make the frame shake. More yelling, more scuffling, more thumping against the door, and I snapped. I had reached my limit with them and their tendency to resort to playground rules to resolve their issues. The shroud of misery and despair receded like the outgoing tide, replaced by a tsunami of white-hot anger.

Molars grinding, I launched off the bed and stomped over to the door. My timing couldn't have been worse. I twisted the lock and flung open the door as Rocco threw Sebastien against it. Instead of coming in contact with the slab of wood as expected, Seb met empty space where the door used to be. His eyes bugged out and his arms whirled as he soared through the air and crash-landed in a heap on my bedroom floor. I gaped at Seb. He was bloodied and bruised, but his arms and legs appeared functional.