My Sinful Longing (Sinful Men Book 3) Read online

  She sighed, gentling her tone. “That’s not a good idea. It can freak people out. You need to be direct. If you want to meet them, you need to man up and go over there.”

  “I know. I’m just . . .” How could I say what I really felt?

  “You’re scared,” she supplied, speaking softly.

  “Yes,” I said in the barest voice.

  “Remember what we talked about?”

  I could hear the way she’d said it, what she’d tried to teach us at the center. “Rise above,” I repeated, echoing her mantra.

  “Yes. Rise above. You can be so much. If your goal is to meet the family you’ve never known, I’m behind you. But you have to stop following them. Do not let fear guide you. Rise above it.”

  I drew a deep breath. “Okay. I’m going to do it. I’m going to head over to this guy’s house.”

  We ended the call, and I steeled myself, ready. I could do this.

  I talked to myself the whole way over, practicing my script. As I drove, as I waited at lights, as I turned corners.

  When I parked.

  But no one was home.

  And I didn’t know if that was for the best. Maybe it was. Maybe I wasn’t ready for this crazy new step in my life. After all, what would I tell my stepmom? Angie had been good to me. Didn’t she deserve to know at some point? I’d have to tell her down the road.

  For now, I called Elle and gave her the report, and she said it might take a few tries before someone was home.

  But I had to keep going.

  “It’s a risk worth taking,” she said, and I let those words sink in, grateful that she was behind me in this — the toughest thing I’d ever done in my life.

  11

  Colin

  The basketball arced through the air, swirling once, then twice, around the rim and dropping with a whoosh into the basket.

  “No way!” Rex stared at the ball in amazement as it bounced on the concrete of the court Tuesday afternoon.

  I held my arms out wide as I stood on the free-throw line. I told you so. “Angle. It’s all angle.”

  “You have got to be kidding me!” the boy said, his big eyes rounder than ever. He grabbed the ball and held it as if he were weighing it.

  I wiped the beads of sweat from my brow. “Nope. Not kidding at all. You’ll have a greater chance at landing a free throw if you have your arms at this angle,” I said, demonstrating a wider placement of my arms.

  Rex made a quick adjustment then threw the ball himself, watching as it sailed into the net. “Holy hell,” the teen said as the ball bounced on the court.

  Rex’s younger brother, Tyler, watching from the sidelines, looked less impressed.

  Rex marched over to me and slapped my palm. “I still don’t believe you, but a deal is a deal is a deal. You get to tutor me now in business math.”

  I beamed. For the last year, I’d been coaching the rec league and tutoring the teens at the center in business math as part of my personal decision to devote more time to service. I’d lost out on a big deal a year ago, and had felt the first inklings of the familiar urge to bury my frustrations in liquor. Rather than give in, I’d refocused my energies, pouring my time into others. That had helped me fight the good fight and stay on the straight and narrow.

  “It’s all math, man. Everything is math,” I said, grabbing the ball from the ground and dribbling it in place. “You will use math in every area of your life. Chance of hitting a free throw from one-third of the way up the court? Math. Chance of landing a slam dunk? Math. How much money do I need to pay my bills? Math. Is it worth missing class to sleep in? Comes down to math.”

  “What he’s saying is—math is everything,” Tyler said.

  “What? You’re on his team now?” Rex joked.

  “Listen to Tyler. He knows what he’s talking about,” I said. A few years younger, Rex’s brother dabbled in basketball, but his asthma slowed him down.

  “And this is the stuff you do for a living?” Rex asked.

  I took aim at the net. The ball soared. “Every day. I evaluate risk. Study balance sheets. Look at profit and loss statements. And take a gamble as to whether some new technology for phones or TVs or gaming or whatever is going to change the world.” The ball slinked neatly through the basket. I tossed it to Rex, who took his shot.

  “How much green did you bring home last year?” Rex asked.

  I laughed, shaking my head as the younger man landed a shot.

  “You’re not going to tell me?”

  “No. I’m not going to tell you. But I will say this: my portfolio of companies had a twenty-four percent return, and that’s well ahead of the stock market, and it’s also ahead of the twenty percent benchmark for a venture capital firm, so there you go.”

  Rex’s eyes practically turned into dollar signs. “Nice!”

  “That money goes back into the portfolio. So we can invest in more companies,” I explained, dribbling the ball. Rex was eighteen and headed to community college. He didn’t know what he wanted to major in, and I was hoping he’d lean toward business. He just needed a push to see the value in the long-term.

  “But that’s your goal, right?”

  “It is. Find the diamond in the rough. Bet big on it before anyone else does. Grow it and watch it turn into a money tree.”

  Rex waved his arms enthusiastically. “Oh man, I want a money tree. I want a big fat money tree that grows greenbacks all year round. Ty, let’s go grow us a money tree.”

  “Yeah, right, in the concrete pit at our crappy apartment complex,” Tyler said with a snort from his spot on the sidelines.

  “Hey! Watch it. We’ll move up someday.” Rex turned back to me and pointed his thumb at Tyler. “I gotta look out for him. Mom’s working too many jobs again.”

  “That’s why she makes sure you’re here instead of wandering the streets,” I said, passing the ball to Rex. “And if you study business, you’ll have a hell of a lot better shot at growing a money tree than you would by chasing after some get-rich-quick scheme. Invest, nurture, grow, make more. That’s what I do. That’s my job. That’s my passion.” I held out my arm, showing the tattoo there. Nothing ventured. Nothing gained.

  Rex tucked the ball beneath his arm and walked closer to see.

  “Hey, Rex. I’m hungry,” Tyler interjected.

  “Give me a second, Ty. I’ll make you mac and cheese when we get home. My man Colin is training me to be a venture capitalist. Get over here and join us.” Rex turned his attention back to my ink. “So that’s your mission at work or something? Nothing ventured, nothing gained?”

  “Yeah, but in life too. Means more to me than just work.”

  “Like what?” Rex asked.

  “It means take big chances. It means stay away from drugs,” I said, speaking bluntly to the boys as I always did.

  Rex sneered. “What do you know about that, Mr. Richie Rich? You probably bathe in Cristal.”

  “You think I was born rich? You think I was rolling in cash as a kid? Wrong,” I said, as if I’d just slammed a buzzer on a game show. “We struggled to make ends meet, and I made a ton of bad choices after my father’s death. I was thirteen, and I turned to the wrong crowd and got involved in the wrong things. Painkillers, tequila, and then speed when I was in college. I was a mess. All these,” I said, gesturing to my arms covered in ink, “they’re my reminders. Eight years clean.” I pointed to the art on my body, naming each one. “Lotus, new beginning. Sunburst, truth and bravery. This Chinese character—it’s for strength.”

  Rex raised his chin and peered at an infinity symbol with four interlocking circles on my wrist. “What’s that one?”

  “My brothers, sister, and me. The four of us. Our unbreakable bond, no matter what.”

  “That’s like us.” Rex pointed to his little brother. “I always look out for Tyler. That’s why I have this.” He pulled up his sleeve to his shoulder. At first, I saw only a few letters of the word Protect. My hackles rose. The guy who’d been fol
lowing Shannon around had some ink on his arm that said Protect Our Own—the tattoo of the Royal Sinners.

  That reminded me. I needed to show Elle the picture of him. But I’d reset my phone after testing a new fitness app that had downloaded a virus. Needless to say, my venture firm wasn’t going to fund that app. I’d just have to snag the photo again from Brent.

  To Rex I said, “That better not be what I think it is. That better not be Protect Our Own.”

  Rex laughed deeply, clutching his belly, letting the sound resonate through him. “No. No. No,” he said, catching his breath. “No way. No how. Our ink says Protector. We got ours together.” Rex stepped closer to me and showed me the full wrap of the word around his bicep. Tyler yanked up his shirtsleeve, displaying matching ink.

  “I would whip him good if he messed around with that gang.” Rex draped an arm around his little brother, then his expression went serious. “I saw some of them a few blocks away the other day.”

  “Here?” I asked, pointing to the basketball court.

  Rex nodded. “Nearby. We made sure they didn’t come any closer.”

  I didn’t like the sound of gang members hovering so close to the community center. I wanted the center, the kids, and Elle as safe as could be.

  “Who’s ‘we’? What is Protector?” I asked, returning to the ink.

  “A group of us who are trying to look out for others,” Tyler said, chiming in proudly. He seemed to idolize his older brother.

  I arched an eyebrow. “Like the Guardian Angels?”

  Rex nodded. “We model ourselves after them. We’re all volunteers. We do safety patrols. Walk the streets. Keep an eye out. Elle inspired me to do it. Rise above, as she would say.”

  “Did someone say my name?”

  I turned in the direction of the sexy and sweet voice. Elle wore tight jeans and a little white summery blouse. Her long dark hair spilled down her spine, and she gathered it up, creating a makeshift ponytail, then fanned her face with her free hand.

  “We’re quoting you, Elle. Rise above,” Tyler said, raising his fist in the air.

  She held up a hand to high-five Tyler, then slapped his older brother’s hand too. “Excellent. You boys do me proud.”

  Rex draped an arm around his brother. “Hey, Elle, did you hear? Colin is trying to turn me into the next venture capitalist.”

  “That sounds like an excellent pursuit,” she said.

  “I’m gonna earn twenty-five percent and beat his ass.”

  “After I tutor you in math, you just might,” I said.

  The teen turned to Elle. “He twisted my arm. He’s going to make me learn my two plus twos for community college. Anyway, it’s too hot out here. We’re going inside. Catch you later, Mr. Cristal,” Rex said with a wink at me.

  As he walked away, Elle raised an eyebrow. “Mr. Cristal?”

  “Long story. But it has a good ending.”

  “Maybe tell me tonight?” She tucked her thumbs into the pockets of her jeans. “Turns out I have more time than I thought. Alex is doing a volunteer project after camp as part of his high school’s summer community service—reading to some of the younger kids at a local elementary school every day this week. So we can do that crazy scary thing you’re forcing me to do.”

  I laughed. “You’re going to love it.”

  That was my goal. She wasn’t ready for romance, but I could damn well make sure she enjoyed the hell out of our time together.

  She shuddered. “Are you sure we can’t just go for a stroll?”

  I shot her a curious stare. “So let me get this straight. You do roller derby, racing around a rink like a speed demon on skates, and you won’t do a zip line?” I asked, challenging her.

  She narrowed her eyes, parking her hands on her hips. “Not the same. Roller derby is flat. Besides, I’ve done it for years, I play defense, and it’s indoors.”

  “C’mon, Titanium,” I urged, goading her with her roller derby name. “You can do it.”

  “If you insist.”

  “I do, and I promise we will have fun,” I said, since I sensed she needed that. She gave a lot of herself here at the center and with her family. She deserved a night to blow off steam.

  She narrowed her eyes and pointed at me. “We better.”

  “We will.”

  She nodded to the building. “I should go lock up my office,” she said, and those words—lock up—flipped the switch on an idea.

  I jumped to a new topic. “Hey, would it be okay if I increased my firm’s donation to the center?”

  She shook her head playfully. “No. God no. Anything but that,” she said, waving it off. She rolled her eyes. “Obviously. But why, may I ask?”

  “Thought it would be smart to get some additional security for this place while the revitalization is going on,” I said, gesturing to the courts and main building. “Lots of people coming and going. Construction crews. Just wanted to give a little more for some extra manpower.”

  “Let’s do it. Thank you,” she said as we walked off the court.

  I pointed to my car parked down the block. “I’ve got to take Ryan’s dog for a quick walk. Meet you at six? You can still be home in time, I presume?”

  “Definitely.”

  “See you soon. I’ll grab a shower too.”

  There was a part of me that was hoping she’d enjoy the image of me in the shower.

  Yes, that part.

  12

  Elle

  I stared at the crowds along the Fremont Street canopy seventy-seven feet below.

  Deep breath.

  I wasn’t afraid of heights, but I was afraid of, well, dying. Or, more precisely, dying stupidly. Like jumping into a lake and cutting my head on a rock. Or parachuting. Or crashing from a zip line. That kind of death.

  Logically, I knew zip-lining wasn’t a dangerous activity in the spectrum of dangerous things. But my rapidly beating heart, which seemed to be fighting its way out of my chest, begged to disagree. My skin prickled with nerves—the kind I hadn’t felt since I was younger and danced with danger. Now, as an adult, I tried to keep my risks manageable.

  You can do this, I told the portion of my brain that had zero interest in skydiving and bungee jumping. It’s just a zip line. It’s exceedingly safe and ridiculously fun.

  Plus, Colin waited patiently on the other side, hovering in his seat. The parallel zip lines ran down the length of the covered Fremont Street that was the epicenter of downtown Las Vegas—old Vegas, with the Golden Nugget and slots that still relied on coins rather than tickets. It was Vegas before mega resorts broke ground on the Strip.

  Everyone rode the line here on Fremont Street. It was part of the experience. Besides, cruising along a zip line was a perfectly manageable risk. Man-made, controllable. The kind I could handle.

  “I’m ready,” I said to the attendant. In a rush, so I wouldn’t back down, I let go and stepped off the platform, zipping off in my seat harness. I unleashed a roller-coaster shout of excitement. Adrenaline surged through my veins as I soared above the specks of miniature people, and a sense of wild glee engulfed me as I sped faster and faster. I glanced briefly to the left, where Colin sailed above the crowds on his own downhill flight along the canopy.

  Screw fear. This was a pure rush as the summer breeze whooshed past me, reminding me of the thrill I felt when roller-skating, the high-speed chase around the rink. The charge that raced through me overpowered my primal worries as I rode past several blocks in the sky.

  I flew the final feet to the end of the line.

  “How was it?” the guy on the platform asked as he helped unhook me.

  I gave him a thumbs-up, my heart still pumping wildly.

  Minutes later, I climbed down from the platform and met Colin on the street. He held his arms out, waiting expectantly. “Admit it. You loved it,” he said with a gleam in his eyes.

  “It was terrifying. But wonderful,” I said breathlessly, my pulse pounding in my veins.

  “Exc
ellent. Tomorrow morning you’ll join me for kayaking at the crack of dawn at Black Canyon,” he said.

  I shuddered. “Kayaking? Like near the rapids? That comes with a chance of flipping over and cracking your head on a rock? Pretty sure this zip line is all you’re getting out of me when it comes to crazy sports,” I said, but the truth was I was glad he’d pushed me. I’d never have done it otherwise, and if I was going to give the kids advice about taking risks, it was good for me to take some too.

  “No. A lake, woman.” Colin nudged me with his shoulder. “It’s calm. The chance of flipping over is slim to nil. So low-risk it’s beyond low-risk,” he said, urging me.

  Was I ready to try kayaking?

  It wasn’t inherently scary. Certainly no more so than roller-skating. But I’d been skating since I was five.

  The sports I’d never tried—they scared me. The things I hadn’t done—they worried me.

  Possibly that was because of Sam too.

  My daredevil ex, carefree and cavalier, had loved to ride his motorcycle everywhere. He’d pushed and pushed and pushed for me to join him for a ride once. He wasn’t even high. He was sober, but he still ran a light and we’d spun out onto the sidewalk.

  Ever since then, I’d had zero interest in anything I didn’t know well. Anything new. Anything risky at all.

  I had a life to live. A son to look out for. I didn’t need to take chances I couldn’t control.

  But was kayaking one of those?

  “I’ll think about it,” I told Colin, and I would.

  “That’s all I can ask for.” He held up a finger. “When are you free again? Because I have another idea. And I promise it’s fun and relaxing.”

  Alex’s community service lasted all week after camp.

  And I’d had more fun tonight than I’d had in . . . well, since I couldn’t remember.

  I said yes.

  After all, zip-lining had been exactly what I’d needed. The rush got me out of my own head and away from my worries, my fears.