The deadliest sin series.., p.89
The Deadliest Sin Series Complete Collection, page 89
I open my mouth to object, to ask Felipe to explain what’s happening, but he tugs on my hand, pulling me through the vestibule and up the main aisle of the nave.
His eyes dart around all the darkened corners of the church the same way Kat’s men always watched for dangers at Kat’s Cradle. As if it’s something he’s done every day of his life. Like threats might always be right around the corner.
Who the hell is he?
Definitely not what he appears. He isn’t a pious priest. If he were, he couldn’t have done what he just did. He wouldn’t carry a knife. He wouldn’t seem so unaffected by using it on someone. He wouldn’t have men working for him who can hunt someone down the way they did me and “take care of” the person we just left bleeding out in that room.
His large warm hand wrapped around mine drags me deeper through the church, down the back hallway, and into his office in the rectory.
He slams the door behind us and throws the lock before dropping my hand and rushing over to his desk. His jaw clenched, he tugs open a drawer, pulls out something, and sets it on the desktop.
A gun?
“Wh-why the hell do you have a gun?” My focus zeros in on the dark metal sitting so innocuously on the wooden desk. I search for any explanation, anything that might explain what’s happening. Only two people I know are connected to Felipe who come to mind—Kat and the man who shares Felipe’s face. “Does this have anything to do with your brother?”
It’s the only logical leap I can make, given who and what his brother is—perhaps someone is looking for Rose and hoping to use Felipe to get to him.
Felipe looks up at me, his jaw hard and something dark in his gaze I’ve never seen before. “This has everything to do with my brother. And you.”
Me?
My entire body starts shaking, a cold sweat breaking out on my skin. The legs that have somehow managed to hold me up give out, and I stumble forward to grip the back of the chair facing his desk to steady myself while he continues to tear through his drawers, searching for something.
The room around me spins, the walls closing in on me until everything is a pinpoint of light blinding my vision. I dig my fingers into the leather of the chair, my nails biting into it so hard that they threaten to break.
“Rowan?” Felipe’s voice comes low and harsh. “Rowan!” He calls out to me again, but this time it sounds distant, like someone calling for me from a mile away.
The bright light slowly shrinks into nothing and darkness takes over.
ROWAN
I return to the world slowly.
A faint light around the edges of my foggy brain…
Heaviness in my limbs…
Something soft underneath me…
Where am I?
Panic grips my heart, stalling in my chest, and I jerk upright, trying to suck in air that won’t seem to fill my lungs.
Strong, warm arms wrap around me, securing me in place against a hard chest. “You’re okay, mi palomita. You’re safe.”
Felipe…
His smooth, accented voice sends a rush of calm through me, and his secure hold on me keeps me grounded.
“What happened? Where are we?” I blink away the remnants of the nightmare I was stuck in and scan the dark room, taking in the sleek modern furniture and high ceilings—definitely not the church or rectory.
“One of my safe houses.”
“Safe house?” I shake my head, but that does nothing to clear away the confusion over everything happening. “Felipe, what the hell is going on?”
“I’m sorry that remembering and learning the truth is putting you through this, but it’s the only way for you to understand.” He cups my cheek and brushes his thumb across it softly, in a rhythm that soothes some of the anxiety threatening to steal my breath. “After the memory you told me about earlier—the house and the man—what do you remember? “
Nothing. I want to remember nothing…
Bits and pieces float around my head. Words. Sounds. Places. People. But all the specifics seem just out of reach.
“Not much until I was about fourteen.”
“What happened then?”
I escaped.
It was when my life really began. When I started to understand what it really meant to live. Freedom to be my own person, make my own decisions.
“I just remember running. Running as fast and as hard as I could, and then I found some other teenagers on the street. Kids like me who had nowhere to go. We protected each other. Watched each other’s backs.”
The memories of those years bring a peaceful calm and put a smile on my lips. Unlike the ones I’ve always waged war against, these are mostly good, outweighing the bad.
“We were in New York. I stayed there for a long time, made enough to take care of myself and keep myself safe. But then I heard about the opportunity at Kat’s Cradle from an old friend who had moved to Chicago. So, I hopped on a plane and flew here.”
His dark eyes assess me, the intelligence there as clear as it was the first time we met. “You don’t remember anything else about your childhood?”
“Bits and pieces. Flashes that I can’t really tell if they are memories or dreams.” I fist my hands in his shirt, my frustration tightening my fingers until it almost hurts. “Please tell me what you know. I need to know the truth.”
“The reason I came for you at Kat’s Cradle was that you’re important, in so many ways. You are not who you think you are. My guess is you’ve repressed the memories so much that you can’t recall it anymore.”
“Can’t remember what?” I hold my breath and wait for him to answer, the possibilities turning my stomach and making my hands tremble where they still cling to him.
“You were born in Ireland.”
“I was?”
He searches my face as if his statement is going to suddenly bring back all of my memories from the last twenty-plus years.
The Irish brogue at the church fills my ears again…
“What happened to my parents?”
His jaw hard, Felipe unravels me from around him and pushes to his feet to pace near the end of the bed, almost like he’s concerned about being so close to me when he reveals the entire story. “Your father was involved in the IRA.”
“What?”
“He made a lot of enemies. A lot of people who would see harm done to him. Or his family…”
“Oh, my God.”
“One of those who wished to harm your father, to make a statement, bombed the church where your family attended Mass, where your uncle was the priest.”
“My uncle?”
That voice plays in my head again, the sound comforting, familiar. Because I knew him. He was my uncle. My family…
And likely why I was drawn to Felipe and the church in the first place. Why it’s always felt so safe and like home.
“It injured dozens and killed nineteen people, including your parents and your uncle. But you survived.”
“How?”
“They waited until you were clear of the building…outside in the church courtyard playing because your father’s enemies had plans for you.” He takes a long, deep inhale, his hands fisted at his sides so tightly his knuckles whiten. “They sold you, mi palomita. Used you as a way to fill their coffers.”
“The man in the house…”
He nods slowly, his body tense with barely restrained anger. “I don’t know who he was. Maybe the broker, a middleman, just a stop along the way. I know you eventually ended up in the States, in New York.”
Flashes of a basement room and a locked door spring into my head. “I remember it…”
My entire body starts to vibrate again, and Felipe settles on the edge of the bed to pull me into his arms. It shouldn’t feel so good being held by a priest like this, to be in the arms of a man who took vows and promised certain things. But somehow, it does. He strokes my hair gently, cradling my head against his neck, and I sink into his embrace, questions still bouncing around my brain at breakneck speed.
“I don’t understand why that puts me in danger now, though…”
Felipe pulls back and cups my face between his palms. “Because, Rowan, your whole family didn’t die in the church that day. You have a brother who survived and has spent years looking for you.”
“A brother?”
He nods. “His name is Galen McGinnis.”
That name stops me cold, and goosebumps break out over my skin. “The Galen McGinnis. The head of the Irish mob here in Chicago?”
Felipe inclines his head in confirmation. “Ever since he was old enough to understand what happened, he’s been looking for you. It’s why he came to the U.S. in the first place. Someone got a lead that suggested you’d been sent somewhere in the States. Since your family already had connections to those in control in Chicago at that time, he came over and worked his way to the top while he continued his search for you. Unsuccessfully.”
I have a brother. A family. Someone who has been looking for me.
The new reality that Felipe has just thrust upon me chokes my breath. “But why didn’t you just tell him? Tell me? He could’ve protected me from anyone who wanted to use me against him, right?”
He brushes hair from my face. “Oh, mi palomita, you are so naïve about so many things considering the life you’ve led and the things you’ve been subjected to. There’s so much you don’t understand about the way this world works. Or our roles in it.”
Something about the cold way he delivers his words sends an icy chill flooding through my veins. This isn’t the man who came to me at Kat’s Cradle. This isn’t the man who stood at the altar and preached the love of God and forgiveness. This man is someone darker, someone far more dangerous.
“Who the hell are you?”
“I go by a lot of different names—Felipe…Andres…Rose…”
I shift away from him, out of his reach, pressing my back to the headboard, as far from this stranger as I can be. “I don’t understand. I met your brother, Andres…Rose, at the church when he was shot. How can you be all those people?”
“That’s a rather long story, mi palomita, but it’s one you need to hear.”
20 YEARS AGO
FELIPE
The roar of an engine jerks me awake, and I blink away the lingering remnants of sleep as I push myself up on the mattress. Felipe’s bed on the other side of the room sits empty, and given how high the sun has already risen, he’s likely been at the church with Father Nolan for some time already.
At this time, Mama y Papa should be long gone, out in the fields working, feeding the animals, and taking care of everything else on the farm.
They didn’t tell me they were expecting anyone today.
A car door slams outside, and I climb from bed and make my way toward the front of the house. The knock comes hard and heavy at the door, and a dark sense of foreboding settles over me, my stomach tightening in a way it hasn’t before.
One thing I’ve learned from my time on the streets, trying to make a name for myself, is that you can’t show any fear. Your adversary can sense it a mile away and any weaknesses you may have will be exploited.
I steel myself for what may be on the other side of the door and pull it open. Elonzo Medina stands outside, wearing a crisp off-white suit that looks every bit as expensive as it surely is. His right-hand man, who never leaves his side when he ventures away from his home, lingers beside him, arms crossed over his barrel chest.
Elonzo offers me a wide smile he’s clearly practiced and perfected over the years—one designed to lull people into a false sense of security before he does whatever he has planned for them. “Buenos días.” He glances behind me into the house. “Are your parents home?”
My stomach turns again, and I peek behind me even though I know they aren’t here. “No. They’re out in the fields.”
He nods as if it’s the answer he expected and flashes another grin at me. “May we come in?”
No.
The Medina cartel is the most powerful in Cali, and they’ve already made it very clear what they want from us—something Papa will never give them. But I can’t say no to this request. They would just come in through force, anyway.
I step back from the door and allow them to enter. They scan the room and glance down the small hallway toward the bedrooms at the rear.
“You are Andres, are you not?”
The fact that Felipe and I share a face usually works in my favor. It makes it easier to pull off switching places when it benefits me. But I’ve also worked hard on the streets, to build a reputation, to try to establish myself, to be the type of man Elonzo Medina is, one who holds immense power and instills fear.
And he knows me.
It may be the opening I’ve been waiting for, an opportunity to join the ranks of the most powerful organization in our region. Maybe he isn’t here for the land at all but he came for me.
“I am. Why?”
The grin he gives me holds a sinister tilt. “Because I have a proposition for you.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I stare down the man. I’m barely fifteen and have nothing to offer except what I’ve earned on the streets. “What do you want?”
He spreads out his arms wide. “This. And as you know, my last meeting with your parents was not as productive as I had hoped.”
“No.” I fist my hands at my sides. “This land has been in my father’s family for generations.”
“I know, mijo. They made that very clear the last time we were here.” His smile falters, his face hardening into the pure darkness I would expect from this man. “This is why I came to speak with you directly. Because you have a reputation that suggests you will be able to see the situation clearly.”
“What is it you think I can do? It isn’t mine to sell.”
His sly grin returns. “Not yet. You inherit this land should your parents die, do you not?”
I freeze, the implication of the statement slamming against my chest like the bullets they’re sure to put into Mama y Papa as soon as they can find them. “Is that a threat?”
A low, deep chuckle slips from his mouth, and his minion next to him joins in his laughter.
“No, Andres, it’s a promise of what is to come. With your parents out of the way, it would open a path for us to take this land we so badly need for our operations. And it would also open the door to you to join our organization.” He crosses his hands behind his back and eyes me. “I’ve been watching you over the last year. I’ve seen how you operate on the streets. You may be a small-time crook now, but you have potential. You have the intelligence and foresight to become something so much more. And I can help mold you into what you want to be.”
“What do you want me to do?”
He walks slowly around the room and examines the family photo on the wall. “Agree to sell us the land and join the organization as my protégé. All you have to do is prove your loyalty to me.” He pulls a gun from inside his suit coat. “Do what it takes to advance the organization and cement your position within it.”
“You want me to kill my parents?”
He steps forward and places the gun in my hand but doesn’t remove his from it. “I want you to remove the obstacles to our advancement.”
A cold sweat breaks out over my skin, and I clench my jaw to bite back the automatic retort sitting on my tongue that would likely get me killed.
I’ve had my differences with Mama y Papa over the years. Rebelled against their values, the strict religious beliefs, and what they wanted for me, but removing them from my life, from this world, never even crossed my mind.
I shake my head. “I can’t. They’re my parents.”
Elonzo sneers, taking another step closer to me. “You’re a grown man in a boy’s body, Andres. You know what you want and how to get it.”
“My brother and sister…”
He offers a little half-shrug. “It is my understanding that your brother already has his future mapped out with the church. And your sister will be well cared for. I promise you that she will have a life your parents never could have offered her, a life you could never offer her on your own.”
All the dreams I’ve ever had for my future and those of Felipe and Sofia flash before my eyes—money, power, a beautiful home, anything else we could ever want. The things we will never have in this house. But Mama y Papa’s faces quickly fill my vision.
“I can’t.” I try to tug my hand from under the weapon but he holds it firm.
“Then it will happen without you, and I will instruct my men to make it a painful, prolonged process. They defied me by denying my most generous offer. They should’ve known what they were doing and what was coming.”
Images of all the brutal things the cartel has done to its enemies now flood my mind.
Dismemberment.
Burning people alive.
Forcing families to watch their loved ones dying in agony.
I can’t let that happen to them.
No matter how hard what he’s demanding might be, I have to do it to save them from something even worse.
I pull the gun from Elonzo’s hand, and he offers a satisfied grin, knowing he’s won.
“I thought you might see it our way. You made the right decision, Andres.”
It feels more like I just sold my soul to El Diablo.
Sofia wails from the other room—awoken by the talking or maybe some sort of innate ability to know her own life is about to change.
Elonzo clasps my shoulder and squeezes gently. “See that it’s done before your brother returns home…or there will be more bullets necessary.”
I swallow the bile rising up my throat and give him a little half nod of agreement. He goes toward the rear of the house and Mama y Papa’s room, where Sofia lies, crying in her cradle. I stand frozen, unable to move as he reappears in the room, cradling her as if she were his own child.
“My wife and I have always wanted a daughter. Mijita will be loved.”
He steps around me, holding her, and I fight against the desire to raise the gun in my hand and fire it at him for taking my little sister. But it wouldn’t do any good. His man would stop me before I ever got off a shot.
