Mortal Sin (6 page)

“I didn’t want to take the agreement, but it wasn’t just my call. And lives were at stake! Yours. Dillon’s. Adam Scott had made it clear that he wasn’t going to go away without taking you with him. Morton gave up Scott and Trask Enterprises—bank accounts, records—we had no choice.”

“There’s always a choice. But six years—why not seven? Ten? Or one? Why put him in prison at all if he was so
fucking
cooperative?”

We had no choice
.

“Dillon knew,” Lucy whispered. The air rushed from her lungs and she could scarcely breathe. Everyone knew—everyone except her.

She rose shakily from the chair, hands on the table to steady herself. She would not faint. She would not have a panic attack. She would
not
cry.

She needed to get out of there.

“I’m going to Patrick’s,” she said without looking at anyone. She didn’t want to see the pity in their eyes, pity that she hadn’t known, that she’d been treated like an unpredictable child. She understood deep down that her family had only wanted to protect her, but ignorance was not protection.

“I’ll drive you,” Kate said.

“No. I’m walking.” She went to her coat and put it on.

“It’s snowing.”

“I need the air.” She turned and asked Agent Armstrong, “Why was Morton in Washington?”

“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Armstrong
said. “Ms. Kincaid, I understand you need a few moments, but we do need to talk.”

She nodded stiffly. “Tomorrow.”

“We’ll come by in the morning—”

“No. I’ll come to your office.”

Kate began, “Lucy, I don’t—”

Lucy whipped her head toward her sister-in-law. “I don’t care what you think, Kate. Not now.” She sounded so cruel, her voice sharp and unfamiliar. But it was the only way she could maintain her composure. She turned back to Agent Armstrong. “D.C. Regional?”

“Yes.” He handed her his card. Lucy pocketed it while eyeing the FBI agent.

He showed no pity. His entire body was hard and rigid, but that told her he was military. He stood like her brother Jack, with that ready-to-act stance that was deceptively casual. Everything about him was no-nonsense, which made his baby-blue eyes stand out even more.

“Tomorrow morning,” she repeated, then turned and left the room.

Patrick’s townhouse, which coupled as the newly opened Rogan-Caruso-Kincaid East office and his residence, was just six blocks from Lucy’s place, on a narrow tree-lined street off M Street. It was sandwiched between an embassy for a country smaller than the state of Rhode Island and a private residence. It wasn’t far, but between the snow and the icy wind, the walk seemed longer than her daily mile trek to the Metro.

She rang the bell and waited, so cold and wet on the outside that the heat of betrayal had cooled, replaced by sorrow and uncertainty. Eventually, she’d have to sit down with Kate and Dillon to discuss their keeping her in the dark about Morton, as well as his murder. But not tonight, not when the pain of the secrets they’d harbored was so raw she could scarcely keep her past firmly locked down.

Morton had been
here
, in D.C. Her home. Even with the District’s violence and crime rate, she had felt safe here because she’d unfailingly taken proactive steps. She had family and friends. She had a job and a future. But he’d been
here
. What if she’d seen him? What if he’d come to Washington because of her? Because he wanted to hurt her again? What if he intended to harm Dillon or Kate or the rest of her family?

Her stomach twisted and her skin flushed. She swayed on her feet and put her hand on the doorjamb to steady herself. Her hands were red from the cold. She’d left her gloves back on the dining-room table. That oversight made her pause as she stared at her shaking hands.

The door opened and she righted herself, not wanting Patrick to see her in such a sorry state.

It wasn’t Patrick who opened the door.

“Sean.”

Sean Rogan smiled with half his mouth, revealing his dimples. Lucy had wondered, from the time she’d first met Patrick’s business partner, if he’d perfected the impish, boyish charm in front of a mirror. “You sound disappointed. Aren’t you happy to see me?”

“No, I just—yeah. Sorry. Is Patrick here?” Her voice sounded panicked. Damn, she had to get her emotions together. She didn’t want to fall apart in front of Sean. She barely knew him.

She didn’t want to fall apart at all.

In a blink, Sean’s entire demeanor changed from casual flirt to serious business.

“I thought you knew he left for California this morning.”

How could she have forgotten? There was no one else, no one she trusted who knew her whole story. Where would she go now? The only option was back home.

“Lucy, you’re shaking.” Sean took her arm and pulled her inside, shutting the door behind her.

She tried to apologize for disturbing him, but no words came out. Her cheeks burned in the warmth of the house, reminding her how cold she was.

“You’re frozen.”

She tried to unbutton her coat, but her fingers were
stiff and numb. Sean reached over and quickly undid the buttons and slid the wet wool coat off her arms, tossing it on the coat rack by the door.

He frowned when he saw her red hands, and took them both into his. He was dressed in just jeans and a white polo shirt, but his body was a virtual furnace. The heat from his hands felt both wonderful and painful as her skin thawed. He brought her hands to his mouth and blew hot air on them, his black hair—longer on top—falling across one eye. He said, “I’m so sorry, Luce, I must not have heard the bell the first time.”

“I only rang once. I walked here.”

“Walked?”

“It wasn’t far.”

“From Kate and Dillon’s place? That’s half a mile and you’re not properly dressed.” His bright blue eyes assessed her as his hands rubbed her arms. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m—” Her mouth quivered.
No no no no no!
She didn’t want to cry in front of Sean Rogan, not him, not her brother’s partner. Not in front of anyone. She should have gone to her room. Why had she come here anyway?

You forgot Patrick was gone
.

“I have to go,” she said.

Sean ignored that statement and led her down the wide hall to the back of the house, where a fire raged in a brick fireplace that took up half of one wall. He seated her on the large hearth. “This should warm you up.”

Unable to speak, she nodded, averting her eyes. The fire was too hot, but she sat and stared at the flames, willing herself not to cry.

Please, God, don’t let me break down now
.

Sean moved away, and Lucy breathed easier. She’d get her emotions together, find a way to lock the past back where it belonged, and phone for a taxi.

She had so desperately wanted to talk to Patrick. Maybe that was the answer—fly to California.

Right. Leave her job, her volunteer work, miss the WCF fund-raiser on Saturday. Fran would be disappointed. Lucy didn’t run away from anything. She hadn’t run six years ago even when she longed to disappear, and she wasn’t about to do it now. And what for? She wasn’t in danger, only hollowed out from the lies told by her family. She had no energy tonight, but tomorrow she would regain her strength.

She glanced into the kitchen, where Sean had his back to her, thankful he’d given her some space. She didn’t want to make small talk with him, no matter how nice he was to look at, nor did she want to explain why she’d walked through what might turn into a blizzard to visit the brother who she’d forgotten was working three thousand miles away.

Lucy rubbed her hands together in front of the fireplace and tried not to think about what Sean must think of her lunacy. The last hour, from the minute she walked into her house and saw those two FBI agents talking to Kate, had drained her and she couldn’t stop shaking.

Sean brought two mugs to the fireplace and handed one to her. “This will warm up the inside.”

“What is it?” She looked inside. Teeny marshmallows were floating on top. “Hot chocolate?”

“When Patrick took us to dinner last month, I remembered how much you loved the chocolate mousse for dessert. This isn’t as rich or tasty, but I hope it’ll do in a pinch.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks and she squeezed her eyes shut. Her hands shook, and Sean took the mug from her hands and placed it on the hearth, next to his. “Lucy—” He put his arms around her and she leaned into him. The more she fought the tears, the more her body shook.

“Let it out.” Sean smoothed her hair back. “It’s okay, Lucy, you’re safe here.”

Safe
. He knew. Why was she surprised? It wasn’t a secret; she just didn’t talk about it. But he worked with Patrick; of course he’d know about her past. It wasn’t a big secret, just not discussed.

Would she ever be able to escape her past? Six long years and it had followed her to D.C., to her new life.

Followed? No, that wasn’t right. Her past was as much a part of her identity as her future. She couldn’t escape it, because what had happened six years ago had molded and shaped every decision she’d made since, the big and the small, whether she realized it or not.

A sob that sounded nothing like her vibrated in her chest and Sean pulled her closer. “I—” she began, then stopped. She took several breaths, rubbed her eyes with her right hand, swallowed the apology that automatically sprang to her lips. She was stunned that she didn’t feel embarrassment for crying in front of Sean. It was not as if she knew him all that well. But maybe, somehow, that was better. Her family would be pained; they would tell her everything was going to be okay. And in her head, she knew that she would get through this, that she would find a way to forgive Kate and Dillon, because that is what family did. They forgave.

But not tonight, and maybe not tomorrow, because right now, things were not okay. She felt as though her
heart had been ripped out of her chest, the heart that trusted her family to protect it.

“Lucy, I’m right here if you want to talk. But you don’t have to,” Sean said.

She nodded against his chest and closed her eyes. Now that the tears had stopped, she focused on breathing normally. Sean smelled like soap, an unfamiliar brand, mixed with maybe a hint of aftershave.

Suddenly and acutely, Lucy became aware that Sean Rogan was not her brother. Why didn’t she feel awkward being held by a handsome stranger? He wasn’t really a stranger—she’d been over here many times since Patrick moved to D.C. from California—but somehow, this felt more intimate. More personal. A man she had barely admitted, even to herself, that she was attracted to.

Something shifted inside, and she slowly pulled away from Sean, feeling much colder. Right now she couldn’t deal with everything she’d learned tonight plus the feelings that had been developing since she’d first met Sean. One thing at a time.

She sipped her hot chocolate, appreciating having something to hold in her hands. “I’m better.”

“Good.” He picked up his mug and drank. “Lukewarm.”

“It’s delicious,” she said. “Do you mind if I stay for a little while? I won’t get in your way. I just don’t want to go home right now.”

He cocked his head, then said, “
Mi casa es su casa.
”

Sean watched Lucy closely, weighing his options. He wanted to push her into telling him what had chased her from her house into the storm, what had happened to make her more upset than he’d ever seen her. But if Sean
knew anything, it was how to read people. Lucy would talk when she was ready, but if he pushed her she’d close up. He could afford to be patient because he had no doubt that she would open up to him.

He sipped his tepid chocolate more to encourage Lucy to drink something warm than because he wanted it. He followed her eyes as she looked around the large, remodeled great room.

“I really like what you guys did here,” she said. “You opened up this room, didn’t you?”

“Yeah—we took down that makeshift wall that separated the sunroom from the family room and reinforced the roof.”

She smiled. “It’s comfortable. And now you can enjoy this incredible fireplace from the kitchen, too.”

If she wanted small talk, that was fine with Sean—whatever worked to make her comfortable. He walked her around and showed her some of the smaller changes he had made to the space, her honest praise making him admire the room with new eyes.

The bell rang twice and Sean frowned. He’d almost gotten Lucy to relax, and now the interruption had her tense again.

“Stay put,” he said, absently rubbing her arm. He glanced at her as he left the room. Except for the circles under her eyes, she masked her emotions well.

He ran a hand through his hair as he strode to the front door and glanced through the peephole. A slender blonde in a black trench coat and scarf stood shivering on the doorstep.

Kate Donovan?

He’d met Kate only once, when she and Dillon invited him to their house for dinner last month right after he
and Patrick opened RCK East. The only thing that would bring anyone out on a night like this was an emergency. And by Lucy’s distress, she was the emergency.

“I’d say I was surprised,” Sean began as he opened the door.

“Lucy’s here then?” She stepped in and in a low voice said, “I remembered Patrick was gone right after she left and I had to get rid of the agents.”

“Agents?” he asked.

“She didn’t tell you?” Kate straightened and clammed up. “I need to talk to Lucy.”

“If she wants.” The only thing Sean knew about whatever had upset Lucy was that she didn’t want to go home, and now there were FBI agents involved?

Lucy’s dream of becoming an FBI agent was well known, but Sean couldn’t imagine that if she were turned down she’d be violently upset to the point that she’d leave her house in the snow without gloves and walk half a mile. Or that she’d be shaking so hard he expected her to shatter. Anger, he could see. Maybe even tears. But not the physical pain he’d seen on her face when he’d brought her into his house.

Kate glared at Sean. “Excuse me, Sean, but this really isn’t your business.”

“Lucy made it my business when she landed on my doorstep.”