Owned by a Sinner (Sinners 2)

When Finn pulls his right arm back, I know the next blow might knock me out completely. It’s only seconds, but I struggle with everything I have and let out a scream right before his fist slams into my ear.

Instantly the world spins, nausea whirls in my stomach, but somehow I cling to consciousness, my arms numbly slapping at his chest.

He kicks my legs open.

Closing my eyes, I beg the darkness skirting around my mind to take me.

Fight.

I have to fight.

The palm of his hand smacks me between my legs. “That’s … like it. Spread …. open … me.”

I keep slipping in and out of hell, my head rolling to the side, my ear still ringing and aching… everything’s aching.

Chapter 17

Liam

Stepping out of the elevator, I glance at Devon’s desk, only to frown at the sight of Kiara’s handbag.

I can swear I remember her taking it.

Moving closer, I pick the black handbag up, glancing over it while I bring up the memory of her clearly walking out of here with it.

Lifting my head, I glance up and down the hallways.

Did she forget something?

A terrified woman’s cry has my head snapping to the right, and dropping the bag, I break out into a run. I shove Finn’s door open, and the sight greeting me sends shockwaves pulsing through my body.

Finn on top of Kiara.

The blood.

Her naked.

It’s only a second, and as Finn’s head snaps up toward me, I lunge forward, kicking him so fucking hard he flies off of her.

Rage fills my vision with a hazy red as I step over Kiara while pulling my gun from behind my back where the vest was covering it.

Finn shakes his head, climbs to his feet, and as I train the barrel on him, he dives for me. The shot vibrates in the air, his shoulder hits my chest, his hand grabbing hold of my right wrist.

I keep my footing, the fucker not able to take me down because I’m bigger than him.

Straining against his hold, I turn the barrel on him again. Pulling the trigger, the bullet clips the fucker’s leg, earning me a painful groan.

Finn lets go, and darting around me, the bastard almost trips over Kiara before running out the door. My arms fly up, and I take the shot, this time hitting his right shoulder before he flees down the emergency stairs.

I’m just about to go after the fucker when a broken sound from Kiara has my eyes snapping down to where she’s lying on the floor.

Right by my feet.

Jesus Christ.

Crouching down by her, I tuck the weapon away and pull my phone from my pocket to dial Will’s number.

“You coming or what?”

“Finn fucking attacked Kiara. Get the doctor. Bring him to my office.”

“Jesus. On my way.”

I end the call, and after shoving the device back in my pocket, I carefully push my arms beneath Kiara’s body and lift her to my chest.

She groans, her head slumping against my shoulder, then her eyes flutter open. “Liam?” Her voice sounds fragile, and it grates against my heart.

“I’ve got you,” I murmur softly. Carrying Kiara to my office, I lay her down on the couch, then quickly grab my jacket to cover her. Leaning over her, my eyes lock with hers. “Do I need to take you to the hospital?”

She shakes her head, a tear rolling down her temple. “No. D-Dad can’t k-know.”

She starts to sit up. “Don’t move,” I say, not even thinking when I press my hand to her shoulder. “I have a doctor coming.” When she relaxes back on the couch, I straighten up. “I’m just going to get a first aid kit.”

Rushing out of the office, I jog to Devon’s desk and pull the first aid kid from beneath it. When I get back to my office, Kiara’s sitting up, busy pushing her arm through the jacket's sleeve.

Noticing the bitemarks the fucker left on her delivers another gut punch before she covers herself.

When I set the first aid kit down on the floor by her feet, Kiara covers her face, her shoulders shuddering beneath the trauma she just suffered at the hands of that fucker.

I should’ve killed him before this happened.

Fuck.

I should’ve killed him.

Suddenly Kiara’s head snaps up, and she looks at me with so much fucking fear it hits me square in the chest. “My mom!” She begins to get up, but my hand darts out to her shoulder, stopping her. “He’s going to kill my mother,” she cries.

Years of living on the edge of a knife keep me calm as I say, “Give me her address.” I pull my phone out and dial Will’s number again.

“We’re five minutes away,” he answers.

“Address,” I repeat to Kiara, and once she’s stammered through it, I ask Will, “Did you get that?”

“Yes.”

“Have men guard that apartment. It’s Kiara’s mother’s place.”

“Done.”

I end the call, and moving my hand up to the side of her neck, I lock eyes with her. “Nothing will happen to your mother. Are you okay with me cleaning you up?”