Sins, Lies & Spies (Black Brothers #2) (14 page)

CHAPTER

TWENTY-FOUR

“Where are you going?” Knox asked, his shoes clipping over the hardwood.

I opened the bathroom door. “I’m getting ready for bed. I’m beat. It’s been a long day.” With trembling hands, I dug through my cosmetic bag, searching for my brush.

He leaned his hip against the doorjamb. “Do you want to talk?”

I scoffed. “No. I think I’ll pass.” I couldn’t have a heart to heart right now. I’d lose my mind.

He sighed. “Let me help you.”

He grabbed the brush from my hand. With slow even strokes, he worked the bristles through my tangled hair. He grabbed an elastic band from the counter and arranged my hair into a ponytail.

“Who taught you how to brush a woman’s hair?” I asked, my gaze meeting his in the mirror.

“I used to do it for my mom when I was a kid.”

I smiled, imagining a miniature Knox combing his mom’s hair. “That was nice.”

“Not really. I had to do it for her when she was too drunk to do it herself.”

“Oh.” I frowned. “She was an alcoholic?”

“That and a lot of other not so good stuff.” He tossed the brush on the top of my bag. “I don’t want to talk about her.”

My heart squeezed. “I know how you feel. I hate talking about my mom. She was a great mom, but then one day she disappeared without a trace, and we never heard anything from her again.” I swallowed. “I don’t even know if she’s alive.”

He spun me around. “I’m sorry, Trinity. It must be hard wondering if she’s out there somewhere—”

I pressed my finger to his lips and shook my head. “I don’t want to talk about that either. Not tonight, anyway.”

He pulled me flush against his body. His warm soothing embrace made me feel like he could keep all the monsters away. “Agreed,” he murmured.

Lifting onto my tiptoes, I closed my arms around his neck. Then he kissed me slowly, seducing me with his mouth, his lips, his teeth, and his tongue. I’d never been kissed with such committed focus. Within seconds, he had me convinced that nothing mattered in the world except that kiss. I gave myself up to it, following his lead and kissing him back with a single-minded intensity that quickly ignited into a frenzy.

I reached for his shirt, my fingers fumbling to shove the tiny buttons through the holes. He clamped his hand around my wrist and I felt his smile against my lips. “It’s not a race. We have all night,” he said, his voice deep and hypnotic.

He lifted me, wrapping my legs around his waist. I closed my eyes, relaxing into him. I pressed my lips to his neck, and he groaned. He shifted me closer to him, eliminating every suggestion of space.

My back hit the mattress, and he moved over me. He caught my hands in one of his, holding them above my head. His tongue glided against mine, tamer now than in the bathroom. My heart knocked against my breastbone, eagerly awaiting his next move.

He reached under the hem of my dress, his warm hands clashing with my icy skin, setting me on fire one brush of his fingers at a time. I was so distracted by his touch, my mind barely registered the moment he slid my dress over my head.

I snuck a hand between our bodies and palmed him through his black pants, needing evidence I affected him as much as he affected me. He groaned as I circled the outline of his erection, his eyes squeezing closed.

“Jesus, Trinity.” His voice was rough and needy, and a shiver rippled through my body.

He ripped his shirt over his head. I worked open his belt, then his button and zipper, needing to touch every inch of him. He pushed my hands away, shoving his pants and boxer briefs down his legs. He certainly wasn’t a stranger to the gym. His chest bulged in all the right places. Unable to stop myself, my fingertips drifted over the silky expanse of his chest. Everything about him was sexy; too sexy. The narrowing of his waist tempted my hands to move lower, but he captured my hands in his again.

“You’re moving too fast again,” he whispered against my neck.

“But I want to touch you.”

He chuckled, his warm breath sending goose bumps spiraling down my arms. “Hold on to the headboard,” he said, curling one of my hands, then the other around the wooden slats above the bed. “I want to touch every part of you.”

His fingers skimmed the column of my throat to my collarbone. He pushed down one bra strap, then the other. He reached behind me and unclasped my bra, unwrapping me like a present on Christmas morning. A low hum of pleasure pulsed through my veins.

“I like this one. Red looks good against your skin, but I like them better on the floor.” He dangled it from his finger and flung it across the room. We watched it fall to the ground. “The same goes for these,” he whispered, sliding off the matching panties.

He kissed his way down my body, exploring every curve and indentation with his mouth and his hands. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t talk. I was his willing prisoner.

Parting my knees, he kneeled between them. “You know what my first thought was when you stormed into Lang’s study with your gun drawn?”

“No.” My voice was raspy. Needy. I thought I was going to spontaneously combust if he didn’t move this forward.

He ducked his head, pressing his lips to the inside of my thigh while his fingers slid against my sex. Wet sounds mingled with my panting breaths. My world narrowed to those to two points of contact, my body vibrating and my teeth chattering.

“I thought you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.” He lifted his head, his gaze searing into me. “And I still think you are.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but the words got caught in my throat when his finger circled my clit.

“I wanted to throw you over my shoulder and carry you out of there,” he said, his lips painting a line from my leg to my core.

“Knox,” I mumbled, but it sounded more like a whimper than a word.

“Would you have let me?” he asked.

“God, yes.” My hips bowed and my sex clenched greedily for more.

He ran his tongue along my entrance in one decadent lick that made my head spin. Then he pulled my clit into his mouth, sucking tenderly. My head rolled to the side accompanied by a long drawn out moan. Lacking the strength to keep my eyes open, they fluttered closed, the muscles in my thighs trembling. Meaningless syllables spilled from my lips. I buried my hands in his hair, moving against him as my insides coiled tighter and tighter with every swipe of his tongue. Then he added a finger. Maybe two. I didn’t know. I was beyond caring. One delicious swirl, and I shattered into a thousand tiny pieces.

Instead of rolling off me, his mouth explored his way up my body, showering me with hot and wet kisses.

My navel.

My breasts.

My neck.

Behind my ear.

By the time he reached my mouth, he had somehow put on a condom. He clamped his hands around the bottom of my ribcage and pinned my hips against the mattress. In one skilled thrust, he pushed a few inches inside of me, his eyes never leaving mine. I rocked my hips, but he held me steady, refusing to move until he was ready.

Dipping his head, he pulled my nipple into his mouth, caressing the aching bud, and a little mewl of surprise slipped from my parted lips. My heart pounded so hard it felt as if it would fly out of my chest any second. I rubbed my hands up and down the backs of his legs, feeling his solid, ropey muscles beneath the coarseness of his hair.

I arched, pushing him deeper inside of me. I couldn’t get enough. He moved with controlled little thrusts that ignited spasms of devastatingly intense pleasure. My body stiffened, already straining for a second release.

Sweat beaded on his brow. “So good, Trinity. So good. You’re perfect for me.” His voice was lazy with desire.

My heart squeezed both in pleasure and terror because his words echoed the ones bouncing around in my head. “I know. I know.”

He slid in and out, hitting the perfect spot, coaxing a shuddering moan from my lips. I dug my fingernails into his hips, urging him without words to move faster. Harder. He did exactly that.

Our skin slapping.

Our moans tangling.

Our hands exploring.

Our mouths colliding.

It shouldn’t have been so easy to bring me back to the brink again, but within seconds, ecstasy washed over me. I cried out with the force of my release, my body arching and trembling beneath his. My entire body tingled, my nerves fizzing. My lips were numb, and all of it went on and on.

My spasms were still rippling through me when his started. He bucked into me, his head thrown back and his neck corded as he shook and pulsed. A low groan rumbled up from his chest, punctuated with one fierce pump of his pelvis. He collapsed on me, unmoving, his heart thundering against mine. Good God, I was officially addicted to him.

Finally, he raised his head, his hands bracketing the sides of my head, and he stared at me with lucid, thoughtful eyes. “You okay? Was that okay?” he asked, his voice earthy and full of gravel.

“Better than okay,” I whispered, uncertainty lacing my words.

Knox’s lips glided across mine, and our sweaty skin suctioned together. “I meant what I said.”

I smiled as he peeled his body off me, tucking his head next to my neck. Clinging to the moment, I hooked my arm around his body, listening to the tangled thuds of our hearts and the soft whispers of our exhalations.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-FIVE

Knox

“Where are you headed?” Trinity asked as she poured water into my coffee maker.

“For a run. Do you want to join me?” The minute the words escaped my mouth, I regretted them. After last night, I needed space and time to clear my head so I could concentrate on my work instead of all the conflicted feelings for Trinity vying for attention inside my head.

Just thinking about it, forced the remnants of panic to the surface.

“Sure.” She pressed the on button for the coffee maker and gurgling noises floated through the kitchen. “But we need to stop at my house first. I don’t have sneakers here.”

My gaze swept down her gray t-shirt and black yoga pants, drinking her in. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah.” She rolled a rubber band off her wrist and pulled her hair into a messy ponytail on top of her head. “I’ll drink my coffee in the car.” She pointed to the twin blue mugs on the white quartz countertop. “Do you want some?”

I crouched down to tie my shoes. “Nah. I’m good.”

The minute I stepped over the threshold of Trinity’s townhome, I took a reluctant, tentative sniff of the air. Dryness, dust, and the lingering odor of burnt coffee curled into my nose. I flipped on the light, and a pained hiss escaped Trinity’s mouth.

My feet were rooted to the floor as I surveyed the scene in front of me. “Fuck. Wait right here,” I ordered, without bothering to turn around to see if she listened.

The soles of my shoes crushed over broken glass, coating the floor like confetti. Deep gashes marred every cushion of her once sleek gray sofa. The kitchen chairs were turned upside down creating an unintentional obstacle course. Light spilled from the open refrigerator door. Food was strewn all over the floor.

I picked up a knife and made my way to her bedroom. It wasn’t my weapon of choice. If the person who did this were lurking somewhere in the shadows with a gun, I’d be fucked. I couldn’t count the number of times I had chastised Archer for failing to carry a gun at all times, and now I was guilty of the same damn mistake.

The bedroom and bathroom didn’t fair any better than the rest of her house. The drawers were ripped out of the dresser. Clothes tangled with the bedding on the floor, covering the hardwood with splashes of color. The mattress rested on its side against the white bed frame.

“Oh my God,” Trinity whispered behind me.

I spun around. “I told you to stay put.”

Tears streamed from her red-rimmed eyes. Her hands trembled as she pulled at the hem of her shirt, stretching it to the middle of her thighs. “I know, but I couldn’t just stand there. I had to see the damage for myself.”

“Come here, Trinity,” I whispered, pulling her into my arms.

“Why? I don’t get it. I haven’t done anything to deserve this. First my cat and now this,” she murmured into the crook of my neck, her hands curling like claws into my shirt. “But you know what?” She pulled away from me, her eyes slanted into angry slits. “I’m fucking sick of this. I’ve worked hard to get where I am. Sure, Derrick helped me out here and there, but I’ve made it where I am by working hard and not giving up. If whoever did this thinks I’m going to roll over and play dead because they trashed my apartment and killed my cat, they’re wrong. Because now I’m pissed. Really pissed.”

She stomped across the room, kicking shoes and clothing out of her path. “I didn’t care about any of this shit anyway. I can get new clothes and furniture.” She flung open her closet door. Standing on her tiptoes, she reached onto the top shelf and retrieved a round white and gold music box with a delicate ballerina in a sea green tutu on the top.

A sigh slipped from her lips, and she swiped the back of her hand underneath her eyes, erasing all the evidence of her tears.

“Is that yours?”

“My mom gave it to me the last time I saw her,” she answered, cranking the dial on the bottom. A playful melody floated through the air.

“What’s that song?” I asked, taking a few tentative steps closer to her.

“It’s the Sugar Plum Fairy by
Tchaikovsky.”

“The Nutcracker?” I said, absently.

“Yeah.” She sniffed.

I moved even closer to her. “Was it a birthday present?”

“No.” She ran the tip of her finger down the side of the ballerina. “She gave it to me to celebrate a better future. She claimed our lives were going to change after that day. Unfortunately, they did, but they changed for the worse. She never came home from work. My uncle was left to raise us. He wasn’t an awful person, but was caught up in his own life and he didn’t pay much attention to us. We ran free.”

My brows knitted together. “You never found out what happened to her?”

“No. My uncle filed a missing person’s report, or at least he said he did, but nothing ever came of it. I tried to find her using some of Miles’s resources, but every lead has been a dead end.”

She stuffed the music box into her oversized black tote bag. “I should probably throw it away. It’s kind of childish, and it holds more ugly than good memories.” She bowed her head, a sad smile on her face. “I had this silly dream that I’d grow up to be a prima ballerina. When my mom disappeared, so did my dreams. My uncle refused to enroll me in another ballet class. He didn’t continue my mom’s tradition of taking us to The Nutcracker every Christmas. Basically, my life was never the same.” She closed her eyes. “It’s like she left this giant gaping wound in my chest and it’s never gone away. Not completely. Sometimes it fades. Then something reminds me of her and the pain is fresh again, just like it happened yesterday instead of over a decade ago.”

“I know.” I brushed my fingers along her cheek. “Archer and I couldn’t run away from our mom fast enough. We lost touch with her for a while. I was in the military. Archer was busy taking over the world one investment at a time, and she was doing God knows what. I always thought I’d get a call that she drank herself to death, but it didn’t happen that way.”

She tilted her head to the side. “How did she die?”

I shifted on my feet. “A few months before she died, she called me to tell me she was sober and had a job. She wanted us to visit her. Archer went. I didn’t.”

She pursed her lips. “Why not?”

“I can’t really explain it. It was more of a gut reaction. I had mentally written her off from the time I graduated from high school. I considered her part of my past, and I wanted to keep her there.”

“Do you regret not seeing her?”

“Yeah.” I rolled my shoulders back. “More often than not, she was checked out and unable to see the horror of what she was doing to her kids. On occasion, I’ll have a good memory of her when she wasn’t drunk or stoned, but then I remember all the crap she put us through on a daily basis, and the hate takes over again.”

“I feel the same tug of war with my mom.”

I cleared my throat. “The police thought she had committed suicide.”

She frowned. “She didn’t?”

“No.” I swallowed. I hated talking about this. “Senator Wharton paid someone to kill her. I’m sure you heard about it in the news.”

Her eyebrows darted up her forehead. “Wow. And Archer and Langley…”

I shook my head. “What he did doesn’t have anything to do with them. Besides, he’s in jail. They’re satisfied with the way things turned out.”

“Are you?”

I shoved my hands deep into my pockets and tipped my head to the ceiling. “Yeah. I wished I would’ve made that trip with Archer to see my mom, but I wasn’t ready. She caused a lot of damage—” Trinity opened her mouth to interrupt and I held up my hand. “I’m not saying she deserved what he did. She didn’t, but she wasn’t a good person. Sure, she had demons. We all do, but she never faced them. Instead, she used them as an excuse to justify her bad behavior.”

I flexed my jaw. “She left us home alone for days without food or money. She’d come home drunk, and I’d hold her hair while she vomited.” My gut churned, the long-buried memories torturing me with razor-like claws. I closed my eyes briefly, forcing them away. “There’s more. Worse stuff. But I think you get the gist of it.”

She averted her eyes. “Yeah. My uncle drank too much sometimes and pretty much ignored my sister and me. He left us alone a lot, but I was already ten when my mom disappeared.”

I rubbed my hands together. “Did you find your sneakers?”

She pointed to the gray sneakers on the closet floor. “They’re right there, but I can’t go. I need to figure out what to do with this mess.”

“Nope.” I grabbed her sneakers. “We’re going to take that run we talked about. Then we’re going to stop by my office. After that, we’ll talk about what we’re going to do.”

Her gaze drifted over the mess. “You’re right.” She tugged the shoes out of my hand. “Let’s blow off some steam.”