Page 33 of Sins

“The fifth year I was in Mexico,” I said in a conversational tone as he sat on the ground with a hand pressed against his bloody neck, “I met a man who trained dogs for the Cartel. He had these two little pups who had just been taken from their mother. Their ears were taped, and their tails clipped. I never understood why people did that, but they weren’t mine, so…” I shrugged. I moved around him as I walked the perimeter of the circle created by the guys. “I would sit on the hood of his car and watch him run drills with those pups for hours. He told me you earned their trust first, then they’d earn yours.”

“How much longer is this story gonna take, for fuck’s sake?” He rolled his eyes, but I ignored him.

“For a year, I’d visit him off and on, and he taught me everything he knew about working with those dogs. I learnedwhat commands he used for what, when to let them go, when to pull them in, and I gradually earned their friendship.”

“Touching.” He snickered, and I smiled at him.

“Then one day when I visited him, I found my friend on the ground with a bullet in his head and the pups playing with the killer’s body. They’d ripped him open and torn him limb from limb. That,” I stopped in front of him, “is true loyalty.” Kurt’s eyes went wide. “And they’re here to protect me,” I looked at Kenna, “and her.”

“I didn’t actually hurt them.” He tried to act tough, but I could see the fear was setting in.

“And I’m not actually going to hurt you.” I hauled him to his feet and looked at him dead in his eyes. “Run.”

He didn’t waste a beat; he swiveled and ran flat-out toward the open desert. The dogs growled and whined next to me as they strained against my legs and pawed the ground, but they stayed exactly where they were. Until…

“Comer,” I ordered. The command meanteatin Spanish.

They took off after that son of a bitch.

Simon

“Stop fidgeting,” CM hissed at me from where he sat backward on a chair to one side of the table. Unlike me, who was cuffed and had to sit facing the window. CM, or rather Kurt as I now knew him, had assured me no one watched from behind it. He had hookups everywhere. The guard eyed me from the corner of the room, and I swallowed hard and tried to sit still. I didn’t want to give him a reason to put me in the hole. “Remember,” Kurt leaned forward, “don’t look him in the eye, don’t talk back, and most importantly, if he tells you to bend over, you do it.”

“What?” My head shot back.

“Nah,” he hopped to his feet, “I’m just fucking with you. Hey.” He whistled to the guard and pointed to my cuffs. The guy glared at both of us but stepped over and reluctantly unlocked my handcuffs. “Just relax, and by this time tonight we’ll be having beers out on the Santa Monica pier.”

“Anywhere but Santa Monica,” I muttered, knowing that was neutral ground for biker gangs and that was the last thing I needed. Thanks to Kurt, I’d been able to keep tabs on Allen until he disappeared down in Mexico. He must have paid good money to disappear because he hadn’t been spotted by any of Kurt’s connections for years. The only thing he could dig up on Allen were a couple rumors he’d been posing as a priest, but it had never been confirmed. If it was true, he’d have demons to answer to someday.

“Fine. You name the place, then, and we’ll go there.”

“Deal.” The word faded off my tongue when the door opened and a red-faced, heavyset man dressed in an expensive suit and carrying a briefcase came in followed by another man. The big guy gave a tight nod to Kurt.

“How are ya, Sonny?” Kurt said to the second man, who stood back slightly.

“Been better.” He pointed with his chin at the red-faced guy. “Babysitting our inhouse lawyer, as usual.” The man dropped his briefcase loudly on the table and threw Sonny a nasty look.

“Shitty.” Kurt acted like the lawyer wasn’t even in the room until he looked at him. “I trust you looked over Simon’s case file, Cameron.”

“I did.” The lawyer sat in a chair but wouldn’t look at us as he pulled out a stack of papers and clicked a pen to expose the tip.

“Great. Then do your thing and get him out.”

The lawyer looked up at the camera in the corner and cleared his throat as he opened a file. “Name, age, and birthdate.”

“No, no,” Kurt reached for the file, “and don’t worry about them.” He jerked a thumb at the cameras. “Simon’s getting out. Just do this part since the paperwork’s completed. Oh, and he’ll be your PI.”

“PI?” He looked confused, and my stomach sank as things seemed to go south.

“Yes, Cameron, he’s a PI. He’s like a Russell Crowe inBeautiful Minds, plus, you’ll love this, you share the same distaste for bikers.”

Cameron pulled at his collar and finally looked at me. “Same distaste, how?”

“Allen.” I cleared my throat. “He set me up. It should be in the file.”

“The file’s been altered, my friend.” Kurt shook his head and shrugged. “Allen has people too.”

Great.