Owned By A Sinner (The Sinners Series)
Owned By A Sinner: Chapter 39

Every body that drops next to me takes a swing at my heart.

It’s a fucking blood bath, but we fight back, killing the twelve Sicilians who came after us.

That’s twelve fewer fuckers to worry about.

Kiara.

When Collin takes out the last man, my arm slowly lowers to my side, extreme exhaustion warring with the adrenaline flooding my veins.

My eyes scan over the bodies of my enemies, then I look around me at my fallen men.

Aaron. Sebastian. Nolan. Silas. Gavin.

My brothers.

The intense loss shudders through my body like a tidal wave.

“You’re bleeding,” Collin says. He takes hold of my arm, but I can’t tear my eyes away from my fallen men. “Just a flesh wound.” When I don’t respond, he asks, “Boss?”

I snap out of the grief and lock eyes with each of the men who survived the attack. “Take care of our own and burn the fucking Sicilians,” I order.

Turning my eyes to Collin, I lift my hand to the back of his neck. The familiar feeling of disgust ripples over my skin, but he’s only eighteen and already one of my best. Pulling the boy closer, I say, “You did good.”

I let go of him and start walking toward Waylon. “Where’s Kiara?”

He nods toward the exit, then follows me out of the warehouse. “Declan?” I shout.

“Is it clear?” he calls from the junkyard’s direction.

“Yes. Come out.”

I expect to see Declan first, but Kiara comes flying from between a stack of cars. “Liam!” She slams into me, then she rambles, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

I wrap one arm around her shoulders, the image of my fallen men’s lifeless faces flashing through my mind.

She’s safe.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpers.

She’s fucking safe.

“Let’s go home,” I murmur, the exhaustion setting in fast as the adrenaline fades away.

We all head back to the SUVs, Collin and the other men, carrying the dead Sicilians out of the warehouse and loading them into the sedans.

Stopping by the passenger door, I wait for Kiara to climb in, then I slam it shut.

This is my fucking fault. Kiara didn’t know better because I haven’t taught her a single fucking thing about the mafia.

That’s changing tonight.

I walk around the SUV and slide behind the steering wheel. Starting the engine, I glance at the box by Kiara’s feet.

I put the vehicle in reverse and steer us out of the warehouse. The drive back to the penthouse is filled with crushing silence, but I can’t bring myself to talk yet.

The loss is too fresh, and I just need some time to process it.

I can feel the worry coming in waves from Kiara, but I don’t have it in me to comfort her right now.

Aaron. Sebastian. Nolan. Silas. Gavin.

An incoming call grabs my attention, and seeing Will’s name on the screen, I press the button on the steering wheel. “You need to go to the scrap metal warehouse.”

“I’m already here. What the fuck happened?” he asks, disbelief coating his words.

“Finn set a trap at Kiara’s apartment. I went to the warehouse for backup.”

“Are you okay? Collin said you took a bullet.”

Kiara’s eyes snap to me. “What?”

“Not now,” I mutter to her, then tell Will, “As soon as everything is taken care of at the warehouse, I need you to take care of the lease on that fucking apartment and clear it out.”

“Okay.”

“Make sure our men’s families receive their payments.”

“Will do.” Will sucks in a breath of air. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine.”

I end the call and steer the vehicle into the basement.

“You were shot?” Kiara asks, her voice filled with caution.

“It’s nothing,” I mutter as I shove the door open and get out. I slam it shut, and waiting for Kiara, I take hold of her hand and walk to the elevator, the box beneath her arm.

As soon as we step into the penthouse, I let go of her and stalk to the cabinet on the side of the living room. I pour myself a whiskey and down the liquid.

Jesus.

My men.

Kiara could’ve been killed.

Fuck.

Bracing my hands on the cabinet, I lower my head, working through the loss I suffered tonight.

Shoving the grief into the darkest corner of my heart, I lift my head, and pushing away from the cabinet, I turn to face Kiara.

Her features are drawn tight with worry, her arms wrapped around her waist. “Can I look at your arm? Please.”

I glance down at the bloodstain, then nod.

She gets the first aid kit, then points to the couch. “Will you come sit down?”

I unbutton the vest, and pulling it off, I drop it on the floor before taking a seat. I take off the shirt as well, then stare out the windows at the city lights.

I could’ve lost her.

Kiara sits down next to me, takes out an antiseptic wipe, and gently cleans the flesh wound. “Tell me if it hurts,” she whispers.

I glance down at her, taking in her pale face. “Rule number one; never trust anyone.”

She nods.

“Everything can be a trap. You have to be on guard at all times.”

“Okay.”

“You never fucking run toward the gunfire. You get your ass as far away from it as possible.”

She lifts her head, her eyes locking with mine. “You can’t expect me to leave you behind?”

“I lost five men tonight, and it fucking hurts, Kiara. If I had lost you?” I shake my head. “You fucking listen to Declan and run. I can’t do my job and worry about you.”

I can see she disagrees, but at least she nods.

“Right now, we’re fighting the Sicilians. Finn’s gathered the remaining men after we wiped out most in Toronto a couple of months back.”

She keeps cleaning the wound as she listens to me giving her a crash course in all things mafia.

“I’m sorry about your men,” she whispers. She swallows hard, and meeting my eyes, continues, “I know it’s no excuse for the loss you’ve suffered, but I didn’t know that would happen.”

“Of course, baby. This is all on me.” I nod at the box. “Show me what’s in the box.”

“Just a minute.” She wraps a bandage around my bicep, then gets up and gets the box from where she left it in the foyer. She comes to sit down again and takes the lid off.

I look inside, seeing a deflated balloon, a photo of a much younger Jimmy laughing with Kiara. She can’t be much older than four in the picture, chocolate ice cream covering her mouth. There’s a little crown, two bottle caps, and various other things.

“It’s all my memories. Every time I got to see Dad.”

To me, it’s nothing but random stuff, but to her, it’s every moment she spent with Jimmy. It’s her entire past.

Sorrow hangs heavy over our heads.

I lean back against the couch, letting out a sigh. “Tell me the story behind the deflated balloon.”

Tell me something happy.

“It was my birthday. I was five. Dad blew this one up.” Her lips curve up in a sad smile. “He almost hacked up a lung because he was still smoking back then.” She looks at me. “He never missed a birthday.”

She sets the box down on the coffee table, then turns to face me. “I’m so sorry about your men.”

I shake my head. “It’s the life we live.”

“The reason Dad didn’t want me near the mafia.”

I nod, now understanding why Jimmy kept her hidden.

“But you protected me.”

I nod. “And Chicago. Finn wants to take over.”

She scrunches her nose in disgust.

But he won’t.

I’ll never let him get his hands on my city and woman.

Lifting my arm, I wrap it around Kiara’s shoulders and pull her against my side. I press a kiss to her hair. “How are you holding up with everything that happened?”

She wraps her arm around my waist, pressing closer to my body. “My head is spinning.”

I’d think so. Today’s been one hell of a fucking day.

The video alone traumatized her, never mind the fucking gunfight. I tug her closer, so she straddles me, then let her rest against my chest.

Rubbing my hand up and down her back, I keep pressing kisses on her hair, temple, and cheek. “As soon as we’re done with all this shit, I’m taking you away for a weekend.”

She wraps her arms around my neck and presses her face against me. “I just want to hide in your arms.”

“Hide all you want, baby,” I murmur. Closing my eyes, I hold her as tight as I can.

Time slips away as we comfort each other, only our whispers disturbing the silence.