DarkestSin (20 page)

“Forever,” he breathed, but she was already asleep.

Who was ringing her doorbell at the butt crack of dawn?
Xan groaned, rolling over to glance at her clock. “Holy shit,” she muttered.
“It’s not even five o’clock.”

She definitely hadn’t had enough sleep. She’d stayed up
until midnight watching Scott play
Battle Warfare
with Brody and Chad
before Scott left to spend the night at Chad’s house.

Over the last few weeks, Brody had been a constant figure in
their lives. He’d taken them both out to baseball games, movies, dinner, and
when they weren’t all going out, he’d come over and have dinner with them and
they’d play board games, watch TV, and hang out like a normal family. It was
nice.

Hell, who was she kidding? It fucking rocked. Okay, it
freaking rocked. She was really trying to do better on the cussing thing, but
she sucked at it. She was woman enough to admit there were some things she
couldn’t change about herself, and that was one of them. Not that Brody tried
to change anything about her. He seemed to love her just the way she was. And
yes, she got a sneaking suspicion that he was in love with her. Thinking that
melted her heart and wetted her panties, and if he was anywhere in sight when
she’d think about his feelings, she’d jump him. Not that he was complaining.
When she’d initiate sex, he’d get so hard and come like a raging beast. It was
hot as hell—heck. Yeah, that just sounded stupid.

Grumbling, she grabbed her robe and stalked toward the door.
Brody was just here a few hours ago, and she missed him like crazy. He normally
stayed the night when Scott stayed over at Chad’s but said he had to get to
work early. As for Scott, he was old enough to understand that Brody was her
boyfriend, so maybe it was time to ask Scott how he felt about Brody staying
over. They’d talked about her relationship with him in general, and Scott loved
Brody. He hadn’t admitted that, but she could tell in the way he talked about
Brody when he wasn’t around and acted around him when he was.

Of course, she’d have to talk to Brody about it too. This
relationship stuff was hard…but worth it.

As she reached the door, she froze. A manila envelope was on
the floor beneath the mail slot. Living a life on the run from people who
wanted to kill her, she knew a thing or two about not accepting things at face
value. This couldn’t be good. Tiptoeing toward the door, but not taking her
eyes off the package, she looked through the peephole anyway. Unable to see
hardly anything, she flipped on the porch light, illuminating half her small
yard.

Still nothing. Whoever had been here only wanted to leave
the envelope. For now anyway.

She leaned down and picked up the thin package before
turning off the porch light and double-checking that the door was still locked.
She walked back to her bedroom because she felt safe there. Maybe it had
something to with being able to hide under the covers. Or maybe it was the gun
she kept in her nightstand. Either reason worked for her. When she reached her
bed, she sat on the edge and opened the package, pulling out what was inside.

Her heart stopped.

She couldn’t breathe, and she felt as if she were going to
pass out from lack of oxygen. Her hands trembled as she held up the lone item
from inside the envelope.

A photograph.

A picture of Marco and Brody…
Brody
…with their arms
slung over each other’s shoulder, smiling and laughing. They looked like the
best of friends.

Her ex-husband who wanted to kill her. And her lover.
Together embraced in shared camaraderie.

No fucking way.

She was going to be sick, so she swallowed convulsively to
stave off the urge, but the lump that quickly worked its way up her throat
turned into a sob instead.

She cried as if she were in mourning. And she was because in
a heartbeat she’d lost the man she loved. The moment she’d opened this package,
her life changed.

As she stared at the photo, her tears dripped on it, and she
hastily wiped them off with shaky fingers. This could be evidence, so she
needed to hand it over to Jack with the FBI in pristine condition.

Jack.
She needed to call him. She didn’t know for
sure what this meant, but she had a damn good idea. Marco wanted her dead, so
he must’ve sent Brody to watch over her, make sure she didn’t run when Marco
got his ass out of prison. She bet the story about Brody’s amnesia was a lie to
draw her in, which wasn’t necessary because she was already in love with him by
then.

“Oh God,” she cried, throwing herself into another round of
weeping sobs. She was in love with one of her ex-husband’s cronies. He’d played
her for a fool, and she was too stupid to see it coming. Twelve years since
Marco tried to kill her and she hadn’t trusted another man. When she finally
opened her heart to one, it was to one who’d had no intention of protecting it.

She reached for her cell phone as she continued to sob. Jack
answered on the first ring, and she was shocked he was able to understand the
story as she relayed it to him because it barely made sense to her. It still
didn’t. She didn’t want to believe it.

“Fax me a copy of that photo. And you stay put. Leave Scott
at the neighbor’s. I’m contacting the closest team to you. They’ll be there in
five.”

Xan mumbled her agreement and listened again while he barked
orders and repeated himself twice as she turned on the fax machine and sent him
the photo. He really did worry for her well-being. But once the call was over,
she was all alone again with just her thoughts, and as the seconds ticked by,
she felt the walls closing in.

She had to get out of here, find a new place to hide. Maybe
that would cure her anxious feeling. She could call Jack once she picked up
Scott and got them to a secure location. But as she jumped from the bed and
threw on a ratty old pair of jeans and flip-flops, all she could think about
was confronting her lover. Did Marco tell him to fuck her, or had Brody
ventured down that path all on his own? Her emotions were all over the place.
First she was shocked, then devastated, now pissed all within minutes of each
other. She figured she’d cycle through them over and over because her heart was
breaking, and she didn’t know how to deal with that, but right now rage was
taking over.

She’d run with that.

Before grabbing her keys, she took her gun and shoved it in
her purse. She was too emotional to think straight right now, but she’d be
damned if she allowed herself to walk right into the lion’s den without
protection. She stomped outside and into her piece-of-shit car. After several
tries, she finally got it to start, then peeled out of her driveway—well as
much as this old four-banger would. Her breath hitched from her crying fit, and
the action caused her to inhale a concentrated scent of Brody’s masculine
aroma. She looked down at the culprit and moaned. She’d slept in one of his t-shirts
and still had it on. Her lip started trembling, but she couldn’t start crying
again, so she punched the gas. She had to confront him now, or she’d lose her
nerve and never do it.

She was at Brody’s house in record time. As she stalked up
to his door with the picture in hand, she remembered the last time she’d
surprised him at his door, which he’d returned the favor by shoving a gun in
her face. And why did he have a gun if he was just a mechanic? God, the signs
were just adding up. She wished she could attribute her gullibility to her
inexperience with men, but the truth was she’d lived a very cautious life.

There was no excuse.

She knocked on the door and braced herself with a steadying
breath and a mental pep talk. She soon realized neither worked when she heard
his heavy footfalls inside the house.

The door swung open, and Brody’s sleep-tussled hair caressed
his face like a lover. His drowsy eyes became alert as he took her in. Then he
reached for her.

“Baby? Is everything all right? Where’s Scott?” The concern
in his voice did her in, and the momentary anger she was clinging to dissolved
into another sob. “Sweetheart, you’re scaring me.” He pulled her into his house
and shut the door, not letting her go.

But she pushed him away. Startled, he eased away from her.

“Xan?” His tone was reproachful, and that was just what she
needed to cut through her devastation and grasp on to a spark of anger.

She pulled the picture up with both hands, showing him.
“Care to explain this?” He gasped, stepping closer, but she backed away. “Stay
where you are.” She shoved her hand in her purse and pulled out her gun. Brody
was as big as a fucking house. There was no way she could get away from him if
he restrained her, so she had to protect herself as best she could. But as he
stared wide-eyed at her, she was beginning to realize how incredibly stupid she
was being. She’d been given direct orders to stay and here she was standing in
front of the enemy. Really, what was she thinking? When she got a taste of
stupidity she really lapped that shit up.

The look in Brody’s eyes went from concern to his own form
of devastation. But why? More games? She didn’t know, but she wasn’t leaving
here until she got some answers.

No matter how much they were going to hurt her.

Shit, shit, shit, shit! This was bad. When Hunter had called
him to say Xan had left her house and was headed in his direction, he had no
idea it was going to be about this. He should’ve told Xan about his past and
the possibility of his involvement with Marco when he’d had the chance. But
he’d hoped to gain irrefutable evidence that either pinned him to Tessie’s
murder or proof that it wasn’t him. Yeah, he could’ve just told Xan about
everything and let her judge for herself, but he was just too chicken-shit to
do it. And now here she was standing in his living room with wet, swollen eyes,
tear streaks down her face, clutching a pretty damning photo with a piece aimed
at his chest.

For weeks he’d hoped what Colonel told him about killing
Xan’s daughter was a lie, and he, Gage and Blade had investigated other
possible scenarios, hoping that some other thug had done the deed. And here she
was holding the fucking smoking gun. Now there was no mistaking his connection
to Marco. He’d be sick if he wasn’t standing before the woman he loved,
watching her heart break, knowing it was all his fault.

Fuck.

He slowly dropped his outreached hands and backed away,
taking a seat on the couch. He propped his elbows on his knees and buried his
face in his hands.

How the hell was he supposed to start explaining? Jesus,
this hurt. “Why don’t you sit down? This could take a while.”

“I’d rather stand.”

His head popped up at her shaky voice. She sounded as if she
were about to collapse, but she was putting on a brave front, standing with her
feet apart, weapon trained on him with one hand and clutching that picture with
the other. “Please,” he begged, looking into her eyes with what he hoped was a
nonthreatening look while motioning for her to sit. “I’m not going to hurt you.
I won’t even touch you. I lo—I, um,” he cleared his throat, “it’s a long story,
baby. I promise to tell you everything.”

She looked as if she didn’t trust him as far as she could
throw him, and that fucking hurt too. But he waited patiently. He wanted to
find out where she got that picture, but he knew he had no right to demand
anything from her. She needed answers first and he had to find the words to
give them to her.

Slowly, as if she were afraid she’d spook him, she crept
over to the opposite end of the couch and perched on the edge. Her poor little
knuckles were white from fisting the objects she held, and he had to fight the
urge to grab her hands and massage the tension away. She was keeping her
distance and using a weapon to protect herself. The last thing he wanted to do
was make her feel any more threatened than she already did.

“What I told you about my amnesia is true. But what I didn’t
tell you is that I’d remembered you from somewhere. I have these little
glimpses of memories, flashes of you I couldn’t explain. You see, Colonel did
some digging into my past and found some things out that I’m not very proud
of.”

“Like what?”

He sighed, rubbed his hands over his face and leaned back
into the sofa. “Like I was a contract killer.”

She stiffened, but thankfully didn’t bolt. Brody didn’t want
to have to stop her if she tried leaving, but he needed to tell her everything.
He couldn’t afford for her to leave without telling her what he could.

“I don’t know much about that. Like I said, I have no
memories of that life, so I’ve been living my life like that never happened.
But those ingrained skills do come in handy with my work.”

“Your work? You’re a mechanic,
Brutus
. You don’t need
to know how to kill someone.

“Please don’t call me that. I—”

“I’ll call you whatever the hell I want,” she gritted out.
“Now explain what you mean.”

“Fair enough,” he sighed. “I mean, we do side projects. I
led you to believe those projects were related to the garage, but they’re not,
not usually anyway. We take on missions from private and government clients,
doin’ jobs they either don’t want to do themselves or can’t. I’m not allowed to
tell you anything specific, but I will tell you that you were an assignment. At
first. That and the fact that I had memories of you were the reasons why I
tried to avoid you in the beginning. We were hired to protect you since Marco
was up for parole.”

The color drained out of her face. “The FBI hired you?”

“Shit, Xan, I’m not allowed to talk about this.” If Colonel
knew Brody was spilling their secrets he’d have his ass. But this was Xan, and
he’d answer whatever he could. “But yeah, we have contacts with the FBI.”

“So you knew about my husband coming after me?”

“
Ex
-husband. And we don’t know that. It was my
understanding we were hired just to watch over you. I don’t think the FBI knew
for a fact Collins was coming for you. But why wouldn’t he? I guess they didn’t
have concrete proof at the time, so they did what they could to keep you safe.
But I don’t know. I didn’t ask questions. Just did what I was told.”