Page 13 of Born Sinner
I glare at him, refusing his request, when his words blaze through my mind, leaving a scorched trail of deceit. “Wait, awhatparty?”
“Exactly,” he scolds, folding his arms, his biceps straining beneath his white button-up shirt. “You have no idea the danger you’ve put yourself and this family in.”
His accusation is like a punch to the chest. “I don’t understand. How?”
Of course, he doesn’t answer my question. He never does. This is Santi Carrera’s world; we just live in it.
“Show me,” he repeats, his jaw clenched.
Cursing under my breath, I tap the camera icon on my phone with more force than necessary.
“What are you doing?”
“Giving you what you asked for.” As discreetly as possible, I lift the hem of my shirt and lower the elastic waistband on my shorts, quickly snapping a picture. Gritting my teeth, I shove my hand across the table. “They say a picture’s worth a thousand words… Well, how about a letter?” I snort at my own joke as he takes my phone. “The bastard gave me a scarlet one. He carved an S for slut right next to my hip.”
My heart stutters as fire sweeps up my brother’s neck, igniting an all too familiar bloodlust in his eyes.
“It’s not that bad,” I whisper, shrinking into my seat. “Once it heals, I’ll get a tattoo over it. It won’t even show.”
“The S is not for slut,” he says in a clipped tone.
A few precious beats pass...
And then all hell breaks loose.
Santi stands, his expensive Santoni dress shoes hitting the tiles seconds before a roar rips from his chest. Flipping the table, he sends it flying across the restaurant and then storms out the door.
What the hell just happened?
I glance toward RJ, who simply shrugs and pulls a wad of bills from his pocket.
Oh, for fuck’s sake...
It’s not smart or rational, but I follow after my brother. It only takes a couple of steps to spot him leaning against the side of a building, a newly lit cigarette hanging from his lips.
By the time I reach him, I’m more than a little pissed off myself. “What the hell is wrong with you? And since when do you smoke?”
A little hypocritical, but whatever.
“Since about thirty seconds ago—right about the time I realized my sister started the next phase of this war.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Leaving the burning embers tucked between his lips, he pulls his phone from his pocket and scrolls until he finds what he’s looking for. Taking a long drag, he pulls the cigarette out of his mouth and holds up a picture. “Look familiar?”
My knees nearly buckle.No.That can’t be right.
“Who’s that?”
“Nora, my dock hand, who I compensated very well to clear all my shipments. She was on my payroll.” He taps his middle finger against the rectangular thing lying beneath her. “Now she’s on a metal slab at the medical examiner’s office. A Carrera associate was about to perform her autopsy when he sent me this photo.” He jabs the same finger toward the center of the screen, “And that, dear sister, is the same scarlet letter carved into herchest.”
I can’t breathe.
“S isn’t for slut, Lola. It’s for Santiago.”
Breathe. Just breathe.
Dropping the barely-smoked cigarette onto the pavement, Santi stomps it out with the heel of his shoe while shoving his phone back into his pocket. “I told you to stay the fuck away from Colton.”
