Brooklyn Sinners 3 -A Sinner Born (10 page)

They battled. Mouth, teeth and tongue fighting for dominance as hands and fingers held on for dear life and their bodies jerked closer and closer together. Movements were awkward, uncoordinated, but they worked and never felt hotter.
Sexier.
Then Syren pulled away, releasing Kane’s lips with a
plop
.
What? No. “No.” Kane grabbed his hair, dragged him back. He took those swollen lips again, sucked on them again, made them wetter. Redder.
“Did he kiss you like that?” Syren whispered against his lips. Kane grunted and moved to take his mouth again and Syren dodged him, skating his lips across Kane’s jaw. “Did he make you feel like you feel now?”
Feel like what? Exposed? Naked? Hungry for something he had no name for? “No.” Kane squeezed Syren’s nape. “No.” He mouthed Syren’s throat, flicked his tongue over the pulse hammering for him. “It’s all you. Please, give me—”
“This?” Syren lifted Kane’s chin with a finger until they were eye-to-eye. His eyelids were heavy and drooping, hiding whatever he felt from Kane. He brushed his lips over Kane’s. Once, then twice. “Give you this?”
Kane nodded. “Yes.” The word was a croak. He didn’t care. “And more.” More wet kisses. More fingers in his hair, on his skin. Clawing at him, sinking in, bringing him back to life.
Syren’s lashes lifted. The veil went up and the walls went down and Kane saw it, the same need, the same want. Intense and unreal and so good.
Undeniable.
“I want more.” Somehow when Syren said it the words meant something other than the kisses. The touches.
“Then take more.” They were both aware this went way beyond the kisses. Way beyond the touches and maybe tomorrow Kane would freak out, but right now…
Syren kissed him. Sweeter than the last, softer too. Gentle and deep. This one Kane felt to the soles of his feet. He curled his toes and sighed. Yes.
“This makes sense,” Syren murmured. He tunneled his fingers through Kane’s hair and kissed him again. “We make sense. Like this, in here, we fit.”
Kane moaned his agreement while deepening the kiss. He wanted Syren’s taste and his smell, his feel even, to be imprinted on him. They did make sense even when they shouldn’t. Before he knew who Syren really was he’d been attracted to the other man, he’d felt compelled to be near him. He’d needed Syren even when he’d refused to acknowledge it.
He broke the kiss to whisper, “I want this.” He delved into Syren, plunging deep and shuddering as Syren sucked on him.
“I can give you more.” Syren flicked his tongue over Kane’s teeth and gums. “I can give you all.”
“Yes.” Kane’s eyes burned and he squeezed them shut. He knew what he was saying yes to. The gravity of the situation would hit him later but now, now Syren was in his arms and licking a wet trail across his neck. “God.” He threw his head back and cradled Syren close, fingers trembling.
It was all too much and yet, it wasn’t enough. Not nearly. He tore at Syren’s shirt tails, yanking them from the back of his pants. Syren lifted to help and once he had enough room, Kane dipped his hand inside. His palm slid across soft skin and softer underwear.
Syren lifted his head and froze.
Kane frowned up at him. “What’s wrong?”
“I— Um—” Syren’s phone rang, sending relief chasing the very real fear in his eyes. “Sorry.” He lifted off Kane, his arousal straining against the front of his pants. “I have to get this.” He didn’t look at Kane as he dug into one of his pockets. The movement dragged down the waist of his gray pants and pink lace trim peeked out, finally registering.
Lace.
“Syren.” Kane stared up at him, the flush on his cheeks, the wet, swollen lips and he couldn’t quite form the question.
“Isa?”
Syren spoke into his phone, rapid-fire French Kane had no hope of interpreting. He did catch the worry and another kind of fear the more Syren spoke. The smaller man righted his clothes with fidgety fingers, his words growing more stilted the longer he talked.
Finally he ended the call and stood in the middle of the room, staring at the phone.
“Syren?” Kane called his name twice before Syren raised wet eyes to him. “What is it?” He pushed up from the banquette and grabbed Syren’s arm. “What’s wrong?”
Syren’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “Henri’s on his last few hours. Isa wants me to come say my goodbyes.”
“Go.”
But Syren shook his head. His eyes glittered when he said, “I’m not—I don’t know that I can do it.”
Kane pulled him into his arms. “You can and you will.” He pressed a kiss to Syren’s hair then stepped back. “Power up that private jet I’m sure you have and go say goodbye to him.”
Syren still looked undecided.
“Isa will need you, I’m sure.” Kane picked up his jacket and held it out. “You will be needed. Call your pilot. Now.”
Syren narrowed his eyes, but did as told then called the car service that dropped him off earlier. When he finished he shrugged into his jacket. “I’ll have to say goodbye,” he said softly.
“You can use the time to thank him for saving you.” Kane hugged him close with one hand around his shoulder. “Tell him thanks from me.”
“I wish I didn’t have to leave you,” Syren whispered.
“I’ll be here when you get back,” Kane promised. He wasn’t going anywhere. “Call me if you feel like talking. Text me if you don’t.” He smiled. “Either way, stay in touch. Please.”
Syren nodded. He stepped back and gazed up at Kane. “Thank you for this.” He waved at the room at large. “And for the kisses.” He grinned.
Kane feigned nonchalance. “It was purely research, I assure you. Merely seeing who the better kisser was.”
Syren placed both hands in his jacket pockets and raised an eyebrow. “I see.” He nodded solemnly. “And what was your conclusion?”
Kane moved into his space and dipped his head. “I’ll need more kisses before I can determine anything concrete.” He brushed his lips over Syren’s. “From you, I mean.”
“Ah. No more kissing other men?” Syren placed a hand flat on Kane’s chest.
“Definitely not.” He claimed Syren’s lip in another hungry exploration that had them both groaning, but before Kane could sink into it a car honked outside.
“My ride is here.” Syren didn’t move.
“Go.” Kane gave him one last kiss then stepped back. “Take care of what you need to do and I’ll be here.”
Syren traced his knuckles across Kane’s jaw, his eyes deep and haunting. “Thank you.”
Kane acknowledged his words with a nod and took his hand. “I’ll walk you out.” He led the way out the den and down the hallway through the living room, past Bailey’s favorite chair, past the pictures of smiling, happy Bailey and to the front door that he jerked open. A late-model Lincoln Town Car idled at the beginning of the driveway, its windows blacked out.
Syren stepped through the door onto the steps. “I’ll call you.” His eyes caressed Kane’s face.
“Okay.” He nodded. As Syren descended the steps he added, ’‘And when you get back we can talk about what’s under your clothes.”

Syren hid behind dark glasses all through the small ceremony and following trip to lay Henri to rest. The weather was a blatant mockery of his mood, cloudless, brilliant blue topped off with bright and stinging sunlight.

Henri didn’t have many blood relatives to speak of, just cousins scattered far and wide. Five showed up—two older gentlemen and three ladies—informed by Isa, no doubt. They looked familiar, so they’d probably been to the house over the years. Right now, they stood huddled near Henri’s gravesite, casting confused glances between Syren and Isa.

Seemed they never bought the story that Henri had adopted them.
Not much they could do about it now. Not after the news that Henri had left all his worldly possessions to Syren and Isa. She got the house and the chateau, all his collections, the legal ones. Naturally Henri wouldn’t mention the ill-gotten ones in his will, but of course Isa would have those too.
Syren got the rest, which was a lot. Henri was immensely wealthy even before he got into the life of a thief. His parents owned one of the most successful hotel empires in Paris and Henri had inherited everything from them. He’d never needed to work, never needed to go down the path he’d chosen, but he had and Syren couldn’t be more thankful.
He’d gotten the chance to say that, to whisper in the fading Henri’s ear about Kane and what he felt about the man. What he wished they could have. He’d pretended not to notice the tears slide down Henri’s cheek. The old man wanted him to be happy, Syren knew that. Henri wanted to make sure he’d be okay, but that was in doubt.
Gloved fingers curved around his and he looked up into the mirrored sunglasses that took up two-thirds of Isa’s face. She looked stunning, even in her mourning garb— black lace veil covering the hair she’d pulled back into a severe braid, black coat belted around her tiny waist, hiding the modest—for Isa—Chanel number Syren helped pick out.
“Let’s wait until they’re gone before you freak out, okay?” She spoke through clenched teeth, lips pulled back to imitate a smile for the mourners around them.
Syren squeezed her fingers. “I’m okay. I’m not going to freak out.” At least he didn’t think so.
“You have the look of flight written all over you,” she murmured. “I’ve seen it enough to recognize it.”
Syren glanced down at himself. He stood on the balls of his feet, free hand jammed into the pocket of his black pants. He did not look as if he were getting ready to run. He touched the phone in his pocket again. Three days since he’d left Kane’s place. Three days since that parting shot. The fear hadn’t subsided once.
He hadn’t answered any of Kane’s calls or texts.
Maybe Isa was right. He might be running.
He pulled away from her and headed to the limo. “I’m going to Costa Rica.” He didn’t look back to see the expression on Isa’s face, but he heard it in her voice when she grabbed his arm.
“Do you think that’s a good idea?”

She smiled. “I’ve always been strong, you and Henri just haven’t paid much attention.”
Oh man. “Isa.” He cupped her cheek. “I’m sorry.”
She shook her head, the slight tremble in her bottom lip the only evidence of her emotions. “I say that only to remind you I know the burdens you carry, but you can’t bring them to her.”
“I’m not doing that. It’ll make me feel better and she’ll love the surprise.” He smiled at her. “Come with me. You two haven’t seen each other in a while.”
“But—”
“It’s settled.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her into his arms. “You’ll come with me and you’ll get some sun and some rest.” He kissed her forehead. “It’ll be good for you.”
“What will be good for you?” she asked at his ear. “What will make you smile?”
“Isa, we just lost him. I’m entitled to a frown, aren’t I?”
“No.” She pulled away from him and whipped off his sunglasses. “The frown was there before Henri left us.” She took off her sunglasses, the worry in her eyes focused on him. “What happened?”
He sighed. “I’ll tell you on the plane.” She opened her mouth and he pushed on. “Only when we get on the plane.”
“You’re blackmailing me?” She raised a blonde eyebrow in incredulity.
“I am and we both know you’re already intrigued.”
“Well.” She shrugged. “Only a little bit.”
As the plane took them to Syren’s idea of paradise, he told her about Kane and the way they’d left things.
“He knows, Isa.” He curled up beside her on the seat and pulled the cashmere throw over their legs. “I got carried away and he felt it, saw it or both and now I don’t know what his reaction will be if I go back.”
She paused in the midst of undoing her braid. “You mean when not if, right?”
Had he said if? Syren broke eye contact and stared out the window. “I don’t know.”
“My God, you are thinking about running from him, aren’t you?”
“This is the one thing I can’t predict how he’ll react, Is.” Syren tried to make her see his reasoning. “He didn’t freak then because I’d gotten the news that Henri was on his deathbed, but he’s had time to think about it. Time to formulate his rejection so poor messed-up Syren won’t freak.”
Isa slapped him, nice and sharp across the face.
Syren blinked at her, his cheek stinging. “What the fuck, Isa?”
“That poor Syren bullshit doesn’t become you.” Her eyes flashed anger back at him. “Snap out of it. If he doesn’t love you, all of you with your baggage and your quirks and yes, your fetishes, then he’s not worth it.”
Syren pressed his cool palm to his cheek and stared at her. The fire in her eyes wasn’t a surprise. Isa was a force when she needed to be, but her words hit him in the chest, letting him know this wasn’t all about his insecurities with Kane.
“Isa, I’m sorry.” Fuck, what was he doing moaning about Kane when she’d lost Henri? “I’ve been a very bad baby brother, have I not?” He opened his arms. Her face crumpled first, the anger in her eyes draining away, replaced with grief and loss and all the things Syren felt in his chest but refused to acknowledge lest he never recover from the fall. Isa melted into his arms, her tears quickly soaking the front of his shirt. Syren held her tight, combing his fingers through her luxurious hair. He didn’t try to give her empty words, didn’t try for promises he’d never be able to keep.
He held her, showed her his support and his love and gave her space to be human enough to give in to the emotions she labored under. While he comforted her, she comforted him, holding him tighter when his body shook and the tears rolled down his face. He mourned for Henri, the one man he’d trusted and loved who never let him down. He was alive because of Henri, he had Isa because of Henri and he had a chance at a real life because of Henri.
“He wouldn’t want us to be sad,” he whispered to Isa. He swallowed the tears that cleared his throat. “We can’t honor him with sadness.”
She nodded into his chest. “I’m sure he’ll overlook our brief moment of weakness.”
Syren grinned. “I don’t know, Henri never was one for overlooking shit.”
Isa lifted her head with a very unladylike snort. “Yeah.”
Syren cupped her cheek, brushing a tear away with his thumb as he dropped a kiss on her forehead. “We’ll be okay, Isa.” He’d make sure of it. This life Henri gave them would not be wasted. His sacrifice would not be in vain.
She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and moved away. “You want to be okay? Stop running.” She licked her lips and closed her eyes briefly before gazing back at him with red-rimmed eyes. “I know about insecurities,” she confessed. “I loved him when I knew how he felt about you.”
Syren’s heart raced up into his throat. “Isa don’t.” He didn’t want to discuss it. He didn’t want to know.
“You have to know.” She took his hand in hers. “I wasn’t angry, only…sad. He couldn’t have who he wanted so he settled, but I never felt it. Except on the days you came home.”
Syren couldn’t look at her, but he also couldn’t escape the pain in her words. She may say she didn’t care, but her tone proved otherwise and he didn’t know how to heal what he’d broken. He stared down at their fingers, entwined. Like their lives.
“Whenever you came to Paris I’d see the difference in his eyes, in his posture, I’d hear it in his voice and I’d know I was second choice. I’d know there was something I wasn’t getting from him and something he sure as hell wasn’t getting from me.” She shook her head with a small smile. “Then you’d leave and it’d be all about me and I’d have to question if what I’d seen even happened.”
Then he was all the more glad to have left Paris.
“I say all that to say don’t be afraid to take that chance, despite the fear and the questions.” She brought their joined hands to her chest and pressed it over her left breast. Her heart beat steadily under the touch. “If I’d let my past and you stand in the way I’d have never known happiness with him. And trust me when I tell you, I was happy.”
“That’s all that really matters,” Syren spoke to himself. “Happiness.”
“Yes.” Isa tugged on his hand. “Your Kane makes you happy. Call him, tell him you’re okay.”
Syren bit his lip. He did want to call Kane back, but he didn’t want to hear the rejection in his voice. “I’ll text him.”
Isa curled her lip at that. “Call him already, quit stalling.” She grabbed his phone from the seat opposite them and began scrolling. “There you go.” She pushed a button. “Call connected.”
“Fuck, Isa. I’m not ready.” He groaned and tugged on his hair. He doubted he’d ever be ready, but he took the phone with trembling hands when Isa handed it over. “You’re evil,” he mouthed.
She grinned.
Goddamn it.
The phone rang and rang and he kept his fingers crossed, hoping Kane answered, praying he didn’t.
“Hello?”
His heart jerked. “Marshal.”
A pause had him fidgeting before Kane spoke. “I believe you made me a promise.”
Syren swallowed at the grave tone. He met Isa’s questioning gaze as he asked, “Uh, what promise?”
“You promised to keep in touch,” Kane reminded him.
“Isn’t this what I’m doing?”
Another pause. “After almost three days of radio silence you’re keeping in touch now?” There was a dangerous growl to that question Syren chose not to acknowledge.
“I was busy,” Syren hedged. “Let’s— Can we discuss this some other time?” He couldn’t talk to Kane with Isa right there, blatantly eavesdropping.
“Like when, the next three days?”
“Of course not!” Syren dragged frustrated fingers through his hair. “I’m not—wait, are we fighting?” Damn, why did that make him smile?
“This isn’t a fight and I can hear you smiling,” Kane grumbled. “I expect when you say you’ll check in that you check in.”
Something in those words made Syren nod. “Yes, I understand.” He raised his eyes to Isa’s. “You were worried.”
The rush of air Kane exhaled let him know he’d hit the nail on the head.
“I was…worried. Yes.” Kane’s voice dropped considerably. “How are you? How is Isa? Don’t disappear like that on me again, got it?”
Syren’s cheeks hurt from smiling. “Yes, I got it. I am fine, so is Isa.” At her name Isa blushed, a quite becoming shade of pink he didn’t think her capable of.
Kane grunted. “No, you’re not, but I’ll accept it for now. When do I see you?”
“Not for a few days. I’ve got business, but I’ll check in. I will,” he promised before Kane could take him to task again.
“See that you do.”
Syren laughed. “
À bientôt
, Marshal.”
“Syren, thanks for checking in.”
“Anytime.” He ended the call and promptly collapsed onto the plane seat, eyes closed, palms sweaty and pulse racing.
“You’ve got it bad,
chéri
.”
Syren made a sound but didn’t correct her. What could he say anyway? He did have it bad and only a face-to-face would help him decide if he was doing the right thing. Only after Kane saw him, all of him, could he know.