Sinner (The Hades Squad #1) (20 page)

“No, sorry. I have wine, though.” She dropped the brown envelope Mrs. Charles had given her onto a pile of mail.

“That the wine you're talking about?” He pointed at a floor rack against the wall opposite the table. “By the way, I like the art deco look. Reminds me of my grandmother's kitchen. Where'd you find it?”

“Yes, that's the wine. I have mostly red, but there are a couple of pinot grigios.” She had her head in the fridge, and he admired the way the worn denim hugged her ass. “I got the table at a garage sale. And funny you should say that. The guy I bought the table from told me that his grandmother had died and none of the grandkids wanted her old stuff. Can you imagine? It cost me more to get it here than I actually paid for it.”

Linc selected a merlot, remembering her choice in Alaska. He rummaged through the drawer under the microwave and found a slender wine opener with an old-fashioned metal corkscrew.

When he looked up, wine in one hand, screw in the other, she placed a deep, square bowl on the table and sat with one leg curled under the other. She plucked a giant hair clip from a lazy Susan in the middle of the glass-topped surface and set it between her teeth.

“I don't suppose you'd feel comfortable doing that naked.” His foolish blood chased a maze around the veins in his groin.

She grappled the clip into her hair and ordered, voice terse, “Start talking.”

“Are you having any?” He dipped his chin at the bottle.

“Sure. Glasses are in the cabinet above the rack.”

“The fire flared up again after I last saw you in Healy.” He'd decided to avoid the details of their last encounter. “It took three days to finally put the damned thing out.”

He sat opposite her after setting two wineglasses on the table, wedged the bottle between his spread thighs, and cut the metal encasing the cork. “We managed to save Keechum—the cabin Demon loaned you—but there was a lot of smoke and water damage. The squad and I stayed on a couple of days to help restore the damaged houses and the one school in the area. A cold front blew in and dumped six inches of snow the day before we were supposed to fly out.”

In the middle of slicing an onion, she muttered without looking at him, “Six days with a working cell phone.”

“You're right. I could have called you during a break anytime during those six days.” He worked the corkscrew into the spongy cork. “I didn't think a phone call from me would be welcome. Your last words to me—”

“I know what they were,” she snapped. “And you deserved everything I said.”

Pop!

The sound echoed in the momentary silence.

She hacked the end of a mushroom stem with a viciousness that had him stifling a wince. “Continue.”

He touched the bottle lip to one of the crystal goblets and poured a tasting two-fingers. Linc swirled the wine in the goblet, checking color and clarity. He inhaled and then took a small taste. “I don't know if you remember me telling you about the new business—”

“I remember.” She executed a mushroom head with an oriental chopping knife.

Linc almost choked on the wine. “I had to fly back to Ft. Bragg to go through the formal paperwork to make my retirement complete. By the time I wrapped things up, I had to fly to Athens for the meeting Satan had arranged. We were supposed to be there for a week, but the owner of the three shipping lines we're now handling security for wanted to introduce us to an Italian buddy who was also looking for a security firm.”

He finished pouring them wine, stood, carried a glass to her, and set it down to the left of her right hand. Before he straightened, he sucked her plump earlobe.

She shivered. A few flakes of herbs from the bottle she held drifted off target and landed on the table.

Jesus, she smelled good with the hint of sex still on her skin. He tasted the salt from their earlier tussle and couldn't resist another suck. “Hmm. You’re delicious all over.”

“Stop that.” She squeezed shoulder to ear, dislodging his mouth.

“Here, taste.” He brought the goblet to her lips and angled the crystal so she could take a sip.

She swirled the liquid in her mouth and swallowed. “That's the Fry merlot, isn't it? It'll go well with the Boeuf Bourguignon.”

“Destiny.” He nuzzled her neck. “Ever since you made that dish in Alaska, I've been dying to have it again.”

“Go sit down.” Out of the corner of one eye, he caught her lips going crooked as she tried not to smile.

So far, so good.

“Did you land the Greece deal?” She peeled a garlic clove.

“Yeah, we did.” Linc straddled a chair and swilled wine. “Your turn. Why the Adirondacks? Why the seclusion?”

“How'd you know I was in the Adirondacks?”

“I have my sources. So, why there?”

She canted her chin. “I haven't taken a vacation this year. I was burned out. It’s a scenic area with charming villages. And the last thing I needed was having to be polite to strangers. I don't know anyone there.”

Why are you lying? I know you never even went into any village for supplies. So what were you doing?

“You picked a great spot. That's always been one of my favorite retreats.” Lincoln studied her bent head, the wayward curls teasing her nape.

“It
is
beautiful and very peaceful.” She kept her eyes on the chopping board and the garlic, her deft fingers working the papery skin. “I didn't turn on the TV and left my cell in the rental car. I read and cooked and went for long walks.”

“I wish I'd been there with you.” Linc waited for the penny to drop.

“And there was no Nadine to deal with.” She met his gaze directly.

Aha, the crux of the matter. Nadine. That ass and pussy comment. He downed the rest of his wine and poured more into the glass.

“Did you and Satan”—Destiny spat Lorcan's nickname, her nostrils flaring one, one-two—“fuck Nadine at the same time?”

Destiny hadn't wanted to ask the question, didn't know if she could live with his answer, and hadn't meant to be so crude. But she felt crude, felt like she'd skidded on gravel at full speed and her skin had been scraped raw and blood oozed from each broken capillary.

“When Satan retired, his head was in a really bad place. He took a position as a park ranger for Denali National Park.” Linc sipped his wine.

She concentrated on slipping the parboiled pearl onions out of their thin covering, her fingers suddenly too clumsy for such a delicate operation, Destiny ground her teeth so hard, she figured he must have heard her ivories squeak.

Why didn't he just say yes or no?

She waited for him to continue and peeked at him when he moved and shifted in his seat, his thumbs twiddling fast, tight circles.

“We were all worried about him and took turns visiting him. We especially didn't want him on his own during the dead of winter.”

Had they feared he'd commit suicide?

Destiny tried to picture the laughing, always irreverent Satan as depressed and suicidal. She shook her head. Satan and suicide didn't jive; she'd never met anyone so full of joie de vivre.

“Satan picked me up at the airport. Nadine happened to be on the same flight.”

Two years ago. In the past. Stop picturing them naked. Together. Stop.

“Destiny, are you with me?”

“Go on.” She stood, collected the stainless steel bowl filled with onion skins, mushroom ends, and other peelings and went to the sink.

“She asked for a ride to her place. Neither of us wanted to drive her. She'd been coming on to me for the entire plane ride. And though I didn't know then, she'd virtually jumped Satan at De Bar one night.”

“Sounds just like her.” Destiny’s jaw clenched so hard, the insides of her cheeks ached.

“Yeah. Anyway, long story short, by the time we got her up the mountain, we were in the middle of a blizzard, which lasted two days.” He fell silent.

Destiny pivoted to face him and blinked.

Lincoln stared at a spot to the right of the fridge, his mouth downturned, his eyes squeezed shut, white-knuckled hands gripping the table edge. Fine lines bracketed his lips; he lifted his lids and inclined his gaze in her direction.

Something clawed her insides when his eyes met hers.

He swallowed. His Adam's apple bobbed once, twice. “The last thing in the world Satan needed right then was Nadine screwing with his brain or his body. I decided to take the pressure off him, so I fucked her.”

Her knees collapsed, and she dug her elbows into the sink's ridge.

“Satan did screw her toward the end, but we never had her at the same time. Nadine, Satan, and I did not have a ménage à trois.” He downed the rest of the wine in his goblet. “You want the details?”

“The three of you didn't…?” Her mind had gone number than gums Novocaine frozen. “She lied?”

“About that part, yeah.” He bounded to his feet and stood tall and taut, the muscles in his shoulder bunching and twitching.

The brain freeze drained her thoughts, sucking a vacuum inside her brain. She licked her lips. “Two days?”

Oh my God.
“How many times? How many positions? Oh why does it matter? Why do I feel like leftovers all over again?”

Strong, warm arms crisscrossed her back and pulled her tight against his hardness.

“Shush, shush. Jesus, Destiny. I'm the scumbag here, not you.” He stroked her spine, massaged her scalp. “How many times? I honestly don't know. Those two days are a blur. I blanked them out of my mind. Up until that time, I had never slept with a woman I didn't want. But I couldn't risk her getting to Satan while he was still in a fragile place.”

“I didn't mean to say that aloud.” She buried her nose in his chest hair, comforted by his spicy smell. “You're right. I can't hold your sexual past against you.”

“Look at me,” he coaxed, one finger lifting her chin. “Active sex, two, maybe four times. Sex where she used her toys and made use of my fingers, five, six. Positions, as few as possible. The whole experience left me feeling dirty and filled with self-disgust. I almost admitted it during confession at Church.”

“Really?” The darkness at the edges of her vision lifted.

“In a way I'm grateful for our time in Keechum. It's kinda cathartic, know what I mean? Like a magical cleansing. You wiped away my sins, Destiny Driven, with your grace and your sweetness and your innate goodness. Not to mention your luscious bod.” He winked.

She gave in to a smile. “It wouldn't matter so much if I didn't have to face her for work. I really, really don't want to edit her next book.”

“You have to edit her next book?” His ferocious frown and snarl did wonders to alleviate the bitter taste of Linc and Nadine dredging her mouth.

She shrugged. “Murphy's Law, huh? Of all the places, all the people in the world, I had to run into her.”

“This may sound crazy, but I'm actually grateful to her. She
did
bring us together. And I wouldn't have missed out on you for all the stars in the universe.”

The brawling gnats in her stomach declared a truce. A low, pitted uneasiness ceased snaking and slithering over each vertebra. But his careful enunciation and wording when he replied to her question about Nadine lying lingered in the corners of her brain.

You didn't have a ménage with Nadine and Satan, but you've shared women with him before, haven't you?

Stop, Destiny. The past is the past.

Lit building windows of a starless New York night twinkled through the glass door leading to her tiny balcony.

“Was that your tummy?” she asked, eyes dropping to his flat belly after a low rumble roared through the quiet of the kitchen.

“Belly, woman. SEALs have bellies. You, on the other hand, have a delicious tummy.” Warm palms lifted her shirt and glided across her stomach, a finger dipping and circling her navel.

“Uh-uh, Lincoln Abraham Chapman. Food first. I won't have you accusing me of starving you to death.” She smacked his hand, and all at once the easy camaraderie of the Alaskan cabin enveloped them.

“Why did you ask your friend to run background checks on me and my parents? And Juanita and Kenny?”

He gave a little double shake, and his mouth quirked. “You're such a stubborn wench. On you, in case I could find out more about your real mother. The others—I told you in Alaska, I protect what's mine. That bitch hurt you, and I want to be armed and ready in case.”

Only Jess had ever looked out for her before. Warm fuzzies settled in her brain. He wanted to protect her.

You are too good to be true, Linc Chapman.

“Can I help?” Hands shoved into his pockets, he rocked on his bare heels.

“The bowls and plates are to the right of the fridge. Get the extra-large bowls. I remember how much you eat.” She craned her neck to flash him a grin and tapped a path to his collarbone, twirling a patch of hair, flicking his left nipple. She tiptoed and mock ordered, “Bend down, soldier.”

When he complied, she bussed him full on the lips, cupped his cheek, and then turned back to the sink. “Cutlery’s in the drawer next to the dishwasher.”

“Aye, aye, ma'am.” He saluted her and pivoted.

She heard the cabinet door open. “Did you get the other contract, the Italian one?”

“Yeah, we did. We're now looking after five shipping lines and a total of a hundred and fifty individual ships.” Plates clunked as he continued. “It's a bigger start than we expected, so we'll be scrambling for a while.”

“Are you going to be traveling a lot?”

“Yeah. For the first year, I reckon.”

Arms enfolded her waist. Tanned fingers linked across her stomach. A hot mouth sucked her ear. “I promise to be home as often as I can. I told Satan on the way here that I won't be away from you for more than five days at a time.”

Where would he live? Here? Long Island?

“This place is minuscule, Destiny. Cute, but what—maybe six hundred square feet?”

She snorted. “This place is a palace by New York standards. And it's rent-controlled. D'you know how lucky I was to find it?”

He licked a sensitive whorl and blew on the wet spot.