Brooklyn Sinners 3 -A Sinner Born (27 page)

that went down, wouldn’t he? And Syren would tell him, so no. He shook his head.
“No.”
“Thiago did it. He poisoned his father because he wanted Syren to himself,” Rafe
said softly. “But when he saw you and Syren together, he knew he couldn’t have him so
he shot you.”
“What?” Kane jumped to his feet. The chair flew backward. “What?” Bile clawed at
Kane’s throat. “Raped?” he whispered. “Syren was raped?”
“Syren told us last night, after you guys met on the beach,” Gabe said. “I thought
he’d told you.”
“He didn’t give any indication either way if he’d told you or not, but I figured he
had.” Rafe shook his head with a sigh. “I thought he’d told you and you turned him
down anyway.”
“Thiago’s dead,” Gabe said. “Syren dealt with him that same night.” “I didn’t know.” Kane grabbed his middle and doubled over. “I didn’t know. Why
didn’t he tell me?” His head spun. Syren had been violated and Kane blamed him. He
accused him of cheating.
“What happened last night?” Rafe asked.
Kane wiped his eyes. “I called him a liar and a cheat. Damn near called him a slut. I
told him—” He swallowed. “He said he loved me and I told him I loved Vince.” A blow
he’d launched knowing he’d hurt Syren.
“Well fuck,” Rafe swore.
“He tried to tell me.” Kane’s throat hurt. “He tried and I wouldn’t listen.” Oh God.
“Where is he? I need to find him. I need—”
“Calm down,” Gabe said sharply. “Rafe stays in contact with him, but I don’t think
any of his information has changed. He lives in Costa Rica.”
“Costa—why?” Kane breathed.
“He has a house there and some other obligations,” Rafe said. “Handle your
business with Vince before you go to him. Be sure you want him, otherwise brother-inlaw or no, I’ll fuck you up if you hurt him again.”

“I’m sorry.” Kane looked on helplessly as Vince put on his jacket. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, I swear.”
“Cold comfort.” Vince jerked his overnight bag closed. “I thought we were building something here. Was I wrong?”
“We—there was nothing to build,” Kane said softly. “I was never free and I shouldn’t have started this thing with you. I knew better.”
“You’re not making sense.” Vince stared at him. “What does that mean?”
“I wasn’t fair,” Kane told him. “I wasn’t fair to either of us. I had no business starting something with you when I’m not free, when I’m still in love with him.”
Vince frowned. “This is about Bailey? I don’t get it. We can deal with you still caring for your dead partner.” He reached for Kane who backed away.
“No.” Kane shook his head. “This isn’t about Bailey. This is about Syren, the man I love.”
“The guy who hurt you? The criminal?”
“He’s no criminal and he didn’t hurt me.” Kane shook his head. “That was me. I hurt him. I hurt us.”
He was drained by the time Vince drove off, but Kane took the time to send Syren a three-word text.
We broke up.
He waited a week and when he got no response, he got Syren’s address in Costa Rica from Rafe and boarded a flight.
The Spanish-styled house was painted a bright yellow with chocolate-brown trimmings, homey and cute. A pink tricycle leaned against a wooden fence along with a pair of pink slippers and a red ball. A child lived there. Kane’s heart beat out of his chest as he knocked on the door.
A woman opened. A gorgeous young woman with dark curls down to her shoulders, dark eyes and olive skin. Her colorful sundress didn’t quite hide the curves, or the breasts on her.
“Yes?” A hint of fear darkened her eyes further.
“I’m looking for Syren.” Kane looked around. “Does he live here?”
She nodded slowly, not bothering to hide the curiosity. “He’s not home. Do you want to wait for him?”
Home. Oh Kane definitely wanted to wait for him.

Syren sat on a wooden bench in the shade of Derek and Casper’s surf shop as he watched Càtia and her friend from school play in the surf feet away. This was his life now—taking her to school in the mornings, picking her up in the evenings. Homework and cookies and everything else he’d missed while out there searching for vengeance.

Seven years of only weekend visits was all his daughter knew from him. All he’d ever given her. The surprise in her eyes every time he woke her for school in the mornings, the glee when she set eyes on him outside the school at the end of the day broke his heart. All that he’d missed and for what?

The media now knew of Ricardo Delatorre’s death and subsequent demise of the business he ran, but there’d been no mention of his son. Dutch hadn’t disclosed what he’d done with Thiago’s body and Syren didn’t ask. He did learn the contents of the drug Thiago had used to dose him; a potent mix of GHB, succinylcholine or “succs” as hospitals referred to it and other shit the chemists couldn’t name. If Syren wanted he could follow up on that, have Billy dig deep enough to find who gave Thiago those drugs. Billy would find them, but Syren wasn’t interested.

Not now. He’d been to hell and he’d come out on the other side. Not unscathed, not by a long shot, but he was alive. He had his daughter. No Kane, but at least he knew what that felt like. Right? At least he’d had his marshal, even if it was for a short time. Now all he had to do was forget. He didn’t regret it. Sometimes when he woke at night reaching out for Kane, he cursed the other man, but he wasn’t sorry he fell for Kane Ashby. He couldn’t undo what he’d done, all the things he did to get where he was, all the pain he caused and lies he’d told. He wanted to forget and yet he didn’t.

What would he have when the memories of their time together faded away? “Daydreaming?” Someone sat next to him and Syren turned slowly. “I don’t dream, not anymore.” He looked Donovan Cintron up and down. “You

Donovan’s right arm was in a sling, bruises marred his tanned skin from face to throat and a butterfly bandage covered his left brow. A heavy black coat hung over his shoulders, hiding his dark suit.

“Didn’t get the temperature memo?” Syren lifted a brow.
Donovan grimaced. “It’s ten degrees in New York right now.”
“Sucks.” Syren grinned at him.
They sat in silence, staring at the girls playing.
“Which one is yours?” Donovan asked.
Syren jerked his chin in Càtia’s direction. “The one in yellow.” Syren had

“She’s beautiful.”
“Yep.” She’d break hearts and Syren would break heads.
“Is this your life now?” Donovan shifted on the bench. “Is Faro dead?” The million-dollar question, wasn’t it? A lot of people out there knew his face. He’d

been the front for Delatorre, the one conducting business. He couldn’t very well kill off every single person who knew him as Faro. One day that identity, that life would come knocking, but for today… “Faro is retired.”

I see.”
“The bruises look worse than they are.” His lips twisted when he met Syren’s gaze.
“Your boy Castillo isn’t who I thought he’d be.”
“I would have warned you about that, but I doubt you’d have listened.” Syren
sighed. “He saved your life with that bullet.”
Donovan turned back to watching the sea. “Not much of a life. I’ve got no job and
my family’s pretty much disowned me.”
Syren stared at the ex-agent’s profile. “You wanted to be on your own, remember?
No rules and all that.”
A long time ago, Donovan used to be in the same unit at the FBI that Syren worked
with, alongside Dutch and the rest, but he’d broken the rules one too many times and
gotten slapped down. Hard. Donovan also had the honor of coming from a military
family where everyone played by the rules and did as told without question. That
couldn’t have been a happy environment for someone like Donovan who questioned
everything he was told.
“I don’t mind following rules,” Donovan told him. “They just have to make sense.
They can’t hurt the people I—” He took a deep breath. “Did you get it?” Before Syren answered Donovan’s question, he had one of his own. “When did you
realize who he was?”
Donovan scratched the small scar on the left side of his face. “York had me follow
Castillo to get the identity of the woman he had in Philly. I watched him.” He shook his
head. Agony bled from him, from his voice when he said, “There was no woman.” Cast out of the FBI, Donovan had insinuated himself within the folds of one of the
Nieto Brothers’ associates, Jeffrey York out of Staten Island, New York. Syren didn’t
know all the facts, but he knew Donovan worked his ass off to bring the Nietos down.
And he knew the ex-agent had a personal agenda. He’d recently found someone he’d
loved, someone he thought had died and Syren was about to reunite them. At least put them in the same vicinity.
He reached down below the bench and picked up the folder he handed over to
Donovan. They both ignored the man’s trembling fingers when he snatched the file and
opened it.
“Christ!” Donovan sniffed.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked. “It’s been years. He might not be as
welcoming as you hope.”
“Too fucking bad,” Donovan ground out. “He’s still my husband.” He got to his
feet and gave Syren a nod. “I’ll keep in touch.”
“Do that.” Syren watched the man walk away and he really hoped Donovan got
what he wanted.
He gathered his and Càtia’s things and called her out of the water. “Time to go.” She pouted but didn’t argue and after waving goodbye to her school friend and her
mother, they walked the short distance home.
He spotted the figure seating on the front steps and slowed up, pulling Càtia
behind him.
“What’s wrong, Papa?”
What was with kids and their sixth sense? “Nothing’s wrong, baby.” He held out a
hand and she took it, wide eyes so trusting when she glanced up at him. Syren gave her
a smile. “See? Nothing’s wrong.”
She smiled back, the dimples in her cheeks flashing. “Okay.” She nodded at him
and they walked on.
He’d dropped his phone on his bed while getting dressed earlier and forgot about
it. He kept no weapons, not around his daughter so right now, they were vulnerable. Only if he allowed them to be.
He quickened his steps only to stop short a couple feet away. Kane was on his
doorstep. Panic wasn’t the word for the racing of his heart. His throat went dry and his
limbs refused to move. Kane stood and turned to face him. Syren remained rooted to
the spot.
“Papa? Papa, can I go inside? I’m cold.” Càtia moved forward and Kane’s gaze
dropped to her. “Papa?” She squinted up at Syren.
“Shh. Hush, baby.” Syren took her hand again. “Come on.” He closed the
remaining space between him and Kane, keeping his gaze on his face. Kane looked lost,
as if he suddenly didn’t know where he was or why. “Kane.”
His ex-lover stared at him, lips parted then glanced down at Càtia.
Càtia jerked on Syren’s hand, excitedly jumping up and down. “Papa, it’s him. It’s
him.” She pointed at Kane. “It’s the man from the picture. The other half of your heart.” Well crap. Shouldn’t have shown her the picture of Kane on his phone. Syren
looked down at his daughter. “Càtia, please introduce yourself to our visitor.” Her bright eyes dulled and she tugged on her bottom lip with her teeth. “Yes,
Papa.” She stepped out from beside Syren and held out a hand. “Hi. I’m Càtia Maria
Rua.”
She got it just right and in English too. Syren couldn’t be prouder.
Càtia brushed her bangs from her eyes then asked Kane, “What’s your name?” Kane dropped to one knee and took her hand. “I’m Kane Ashby.” He kissed her
fingers. “It’s my pleasure to meet you.”
She nodded at him, speculation in her eyes. “Will you leave enough room for me in
Papa’s heart?” Turning to Syren she said, “I don’t think he can fit, Papa, he’s too big.” “I can fit,” Kane spoke up. “We both can fit.”
She squealed and clapped her hands. “Can we, Papa? Can we?”
Jesus. Syren really wanted to cry. “Nina!” He called for Càtia’s aunt and when she
appeared he asked, “Nina, can you get Càtia out of the wet clothes and give her some
cookies and milk? She’s been asking for that.”
“No problem.” Nina nodded at his request, but kept her gaze on Kane. “Come on,
querida
.”
“Can I wear the dress Aunty Isa bought for me, Papa? The red one with the
butterflies on it?”
Syren sighed. “Nina will dress you, baby. She decides what you wear, not you.
Understand?”
“Yes, Papa.” She pouted all the way into the house.
“You have a daughter.” Kane spoke into the silence.
Syren nodded. “Yes.”
“How old is she?”
“Seven in a couple months.” Syren turned away with his arms folded. “Why are
you here?”
“Why didn’t you tell me about her?” Kane fired back.
They fell into a tense quiet where the only sounds were the ones that drifted up to
them from the people on the beach below.
Kane deserved an answer so Syren provided one. “I didn’t know if you were the
kid type. I wanted to make sure we’d built something permanent before I introduced
you two.”
“You’re a selfish son of a bitch, you now that?”
Syren jerked his gaze to Kane’s, but the other man stared off into the distance, his
face hard and blank.
“I know that.”
“I sent you a text about a week ago and I’ve been waiting for your response.” Syren could ask what text, but he knew the one. “What should my response be,
Kane?”
“We broke up!” Kane swung to face him, anguish in his eyes. “Don’t you care?” “Should I? That has nothing to do with me.” He turned and Kane grabbed his
shoulder.
“It has everything to do with you.” He pressed Syren into the side of the house.
“Why did you let me think you cheated on me when Thiago raped you?” Pain filled his
eyes as he rasped, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Why didn’t I—” A dry chuckle rose in Syren’s throat. “I tried to tell you, only you
were too busy believing every bad thing about me. I tried for weeks to get you to talk to
me and what did you do? You chose Vince!”
“I’m sorry.” Kane clutched his face. “I’m so sorry, I wish I could take it back.” Syren’s throat clogged and he lifted his gaze from Kane’s mournful eyes. “You
can’t. It’s too late now anyway.”
“No.” Kane’s nostrils flared. “It’s not too late. It’s never too late if we love each
other.”
Syren laughed in his face. “Love, huh? The love you turned your back on when the
first signs of trouble hit? The love you dropkicked when you took that smug bastard
Vince to your bed?” That shit hurt to think, to say. He couldn’t hide the pain, his body
shook with it.
“Please.” Kane pressed their foreheads together. “I didn’t sleep with him. Let me
make it up to you. I’ll spend my life making it up to you.”
“Yeah?” Syren felt around in the pockets of his shorts, but came up dry, no fucking
cigarettes. “That easy? I thought you loved old boy.” Oh that’s right, he’d quit the damn
things. Shit. His palm itched.
“I didn’t. I don’t.” Kane touched Syren’s bottom lip. “I’ve loved you from the
moment those men delivered
Sunset
to my house. I’ve loved you even more when you
told me who you were and what you’d been through.” He kissed Syren softly then
spoke against his lips. “I loved you then. I love you now.”
Syren moved away from him, from the pull of his warm body enticing him to
remember how good they were. “And Vince?” Knowing Kane had turned to someone
else, to Vince, was the hardest part. Imagining Kane touching someone, kissing
someone, the same way he’d done those things to Syren ate away at him day in and day
out.
“Vince was beside me when I fell apart, when I turned back to the booze and
sleepless nights.” Kane inhaled sharply. “He sat with me without judgment and one
day I got too lonely to ignore what he’d been offering.”
“Just like that, without strings?”
Kane’s face twisted. “My strings are already tied up. With you. Around you.” He
took Syren’s hand in his. “He was my distraction or he was supposed to be, but that
didn’t work because I’d still wake in the middle of the night reaching for you.” Syren looked away. ”The thought of you touching him in any way, that’s what I
hate most.”
“He was a substitute for who I really wanted, but I swear I didn’t sleep with him.”
Kane’s eyes begged Syren to believe him and he wanted to.
Syren bit his lip. “It hurts,” he admitted. “Not your rejection so much as the
appearance of you moving on. With him.”
Kane made a comforting sound low in his throat.
“You sliced me open,” Syren whispered. “New Year’s Eve when you said you
didn’t love me, that you loved him. You sliced me open.” His voice roughened at that
remembered blow. “I’m still raw from that cut.”
Kane grabbed him then, held him tight in his arms and Syren didn’t cry, but he
came damn close. The familiar embrace, the smell of his lover. He’d missed them so
much.
“I was lying,” Kane said fiercely in his ear. “I wanted to hurt you, wanted to shake
you up. You looked so untouchable. I wanted to hurt you and I reached for the sharpest
tool in my arsenal. I’m sorry.”
“Mission accomplished.”
“Please.” Kane held the back of his head and leaned away, peering down at Syren.
“I fucked up. I know. Let me make it right.”
“There’s nothing to make right.”
Kane held up Syren’s left hand and smoothed his palm open. Syren knew what he’d
find, but he didn’t squirm.
“You’ve been hurting yourself.” Not a question, but not an accusation either. Syren explained, “The last time was that day, the day after, when I came to
explain.”
“Jesus.” Kane closed his eyes, his throat working. “Jesus Christ.”
“It’s no big deal now.” Syren touched his jaw. “I’ve been seeing someone.” Kane’s eyes snapped open. “Who?”
“A psychiatrist.” Syren smiled for the first time. “For my demons.” “Okay.” Kane nodded. “Is it helping?”
Syren shrugged. “Who the fuck knows? I’ve given up the smoking and I haven’t
hurt myself in months, long before New Year’s Eve, so I’d say yes.”
“Good.” Kane hugged him close. “Good. I want to help.”
Syren ducked out of his hold and turned his gaze to the view of the beach below
them. “I was yours before I knew the sound of your voice, the feel of your touch. I’ve
been yours, only yours from our first conversation. Our first kiss cemented that fact in
my bones. I’ve wanted no other options beside you and when you turned me away I— I
accepted that I’d be alone, raising my daughter.”
“What about Nina?” Kane asked. “Who is she to you?”
“Nina is Càtia’s mother’s sister. I rescued them from one of Delatorre’s brothels.
Yolande was pregnant and Delatorre wanted her dead.” He sniffed. “She wanted out of
the business to raise her child in peace, but he wasn’t having it. I walked in on him whipping her bloody.” He shook his head at the memory. “She was nine months
pregnant.”
Kane touched him at the small of his back.
“I asked him to stop, offered myself in her place.” He looked at Kane. “That’s how
my beatings began. I bartered my body for Yolande’s and Nina’s freedom.” It was the
easiest thing he’d ever done, saving those women. He’d do it all over again if Càtia was
the outcome. “Yolande went into labor right there on the cold floor where Delatorre had
dropped her, but he made both her and her sister watch me take their punishment and
when he was finished ordered me to sell both women off to anyone willing to buy
them. Oh and I was to get extra for the kid.”
“Sick fuck,” Kane muttered. He stroked Syren’s back and Syren leaned into his
touch, so good and familiar, as if he hadn’t gone months without.
“After the beating, I took the women and the child with me. Yolande was in a bad
way and I knew she wouldn’t survive it. She knew too, I think.” Syren stared down at
his hands. “Nina and I did our best, but we couldn’t save her.” He choked up. “Before
she slipped away she told me to protect them. Protect them from him. I worked for him.
I don’t know how she looked at me and I knew I would. I said yes, but inside I’m
asking myself, how do I do that?”
“How did you?” Kane asked.
Syren shrugged. “Money. We buried Yolande and I hid Nina and Càtia away until I
got them passports and out of the country to England. Isa and Henry did the rest, held
them in Paris for a while until I got the house in Costa Rica ready and they’ve been here
ever since.” He met Kane’s gaze. “I officially adopted her, illegally of course, so Càtia is
mine. She’s the reason I approached the FBI. Nina stays because she wants to, but she
has her own life and nothing sexual has ever occurred between us. I consider her a
surrogate sister.”
Kane seemed to get that. “With your life as Faro when did you get to see Càtia?” “Every weekend.” Syren smiled. “That’s why I got my own plane, so Delatorre
couldn’t watch my comings and goings. He tried to dig for information, but I took the
beatings instead.”
“And now you’re a full-time father.” Kane moved in close, gaze searching. “Is there
room in this life,” he waved at the house, “for me?”
“I don’t want to hope that you’ll be in my life then have you disappoint me again,”
Syren told him. “I’m a father. Faro is retired, but that life can come knocking on my
door at any time. You live in the States and I—”
Kane kissed him, swallowing his words. Syren hesitated only a moment before he
opened for his lover, sighing when their tongues touched. Bliss. He felt that all the way