Rebecca Zanetti - Forgotten Sins

She sobbed again. How badly was Shane hurt? Why had she told him they didn’t have a chance? The idea of living without him hurt a hell of a lot worse than the idea of trying to make it work. But could they? God. She was so screwed up.

The car stopped with a squeal of brakes. Josie rolled forward and then back, the stiff carpet scratching her bare arms. She dug her shoulder into the floor, shifting until her feet angled toward the back.

Doors slammed.

The trunk lid flipped open, and she shot her feet toward the opening, wincing as light cut into her eyes.

Sam batted her feet out of the way, reaching in with one slender hand to grab her bound wrists and drag her out of the trunk.

The rusty metal scratched her midriff.

He lifted her out, dropping her to her feet.

The smell of spoiled milk and rotten food filled her nostrils. An alley. Dark and wet between faded brick buildings. Josie frowned. Where in the world was she?

Madge yanked open a scratched purple door. The thump of music wafted out.

“Come on.” Sam yanked Josie inside the narrow hallway.

No way. “The Pound?” Another client she’d inherited from Billy. She’d been right to be suspicious of the drug dealer’s brother. “Paul’s in on this, too?”

“Yep.” Sam opened Paul’s office door and shoved her inside.

Paul stood on the other side of his large desk, his curly hair wild and his eyes wide. “What is she doing here?”

Sam pushed her into a chair. “She found out about Billy.”

“I thought he fixed all the accounts.”

“Nope. Not in time.”

“Well, he fixed mine before he went to rehab.” Paul dropped into his chair. “You should’ve made sure he altered yours, too.”

Sam shrugged. “I didn’t get the chance. And Max is pissed.”

Paul turned white. “Where’s Billy?”

Josie straightened in the chair. “Billy’s dead. Shot through the head. Making deals with a guy like Max will get you all killed.” She assumed. It’s not like she’d met Max, but the evidence was pretty clear. “Let me go, Paul. I’ll help you get protection from the police.”

Sam snorted. “Yeah, right.”

Anger simmered beneath Josie’s skin. “Okay. Then let me go, or my husband will rip the skin from your body with his bare hands.” She leaned forward, her words spilling out. “You don’t know him. You have no idea the training he’s had. If anything happens to me, he’ll kill you so slowly.” The words made her shiver because they were the absolute truth.

Paul somehow paled even further, light freckles standing bold against stark white skin.

Madge dropped into the adjacent chair. “No he won’t. I shot him.”

Josie shook her head wildly. “One bullet won’t stop Shane. Trust me on that.”

Movement sounded behind her before the door snapped shut. “I’m not concerned about a wounded man, Mrs. Dean.” Low and accented, the deep voice filled the room.

Josie pivoted, her gaze on the tall man. Black hair swept away from an olive complexion that highlighted odd, light blue eyes. He wore a black silk suit with a red-striped tie. Josie sucked in a breath. “You must be the drug dealer.”

He smiled a perfect row of sparkling white teeth. “No. Paul’s brother is a simple drug dealer—for me. I’m a businessman.”

“Did you kill Billy?”

“Yes.” Max glanced at Sam, who swallowed audibly. “Billy needed to learn how foolish it is to cross me.” He brushed invisible lint off his lapel. “Of course, I hadn’t realized the construction crew in your building would be called to the north side of Snowville for the beginning of this week.” His full lips quirked. “I assume Billy is stinking up the place by now. I hope they find him soon.”

A ball of dread uncoiled in her gut. Full confession from the rabid criminal. Obviously he wasn’t planning on letting her go. Fear set up a ringing between her ears, and her hands shook. How could she get away? She turned toward a trembling Paul. “Are you really going to let him kill me?”

Paul sucked in air, his gaze lifting to Max. “You’re not going to kill her, are you? I mean, she’s a nice lady.”

Max gave her a nod of approval. “Smart, too.” He turned toward Paul. “She knows about your business, about how we’ve been not only selling meth here to customers but filtering the proceeds through several other businesses to end up clean. Laundering money is a federal offense. She’ll put you away for life.”

Josie straightened her shoulders. “That’s nothing compared to what Shane will do to you. Trust me.”

Paul’s hands trembled on his desk.

Max sighed. “Sam, Madge, take the Cadillac to the cabin and wait for me there. We’ll need to get you out of town for a while.” He tugged a cell phone out of his jacket pocket. “I’ll bring cash.”

Madge’s eyes gleamed, and she gave Josie a supercilious glare before flouncing out the door. Sam followed without looking back.

Several seconds later the outside door slammed shut.

Max pushed a button and pressed his phone to his ear. “Hi. There will be two problems arriving at the cabin in thirty minutes. Take care of them.” He clicked the phone shut.

Paul half lifted himself from his chair. “You’re going to kill them?” His voice rose an octave.

Max twisted his lips. “Of course. Witnesses saw them shoot a man and then kidnap this lovely lady.” He ran a hand down Josie’s hair.

Fear nearly made her gag, and she shrugged him off. “Touch me again, and you lose your hand.”

He shifted, placing both hands on the arms of the chair to trap her. He leaned in, his minty breath brushing her lips. “You might want to change your tone with me, Mrs. Dean.” His gaze dropped to her chest. “Or I’ll change it for you.” He leaned back. “How much fun we could have together.”

Dread pooled in her stomach. Panic had her changing his focus. “Did you bug my house?”

“Yes.” Max took a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping his hands. “When Billy checked into rehab, we realized he hadn’t quite finished doctoring all the books. You took over for him, so we bugged your home to make sure you hadn’t caught on before we fixed the files.”

The idea of people listening in on her life made her nauseous. She struggled to concentrate and not puke. “All of the men Shane has taken care of lately? Were they yours?”

Max huffed out an irritated breath. “Yes. I don’t know the full story there, either. I sent them to wait for you at your house so we could have a little talk. Next thing I heard, they were in the morgue.”

“I told you crossing Shane was an extremely bad idea.” So all the problems had been because of her, and not Shane’s past. How badly had her husband been shot, anyway? He had to be all right.

“We’ll see about that.” Max whipped a gun out of a shoulder holster.

Paul shoved away from his desk, the chair scraping across the floor. “You can’t kill her here.”

Oh God. He was really going to shoot her. Josie eyed the gun. If she kneed Max in the nuts, would he drop the weapon?

Max smiled. “I’m not going to kill her.”

Josie’s sigh of relief matched Paul’s.

Max took another step away. “You are, Paul.”

Paul leapt to his feet. “What? No way. Why would I kill her?” He gaze slid to Josie and then back to Max. “I’m no killer.”

Max cocked the gun. “It occurred to me earlier that I’m taking all the risks here. Should you decide to turn me in, you could certainly strike a deal, considering I killed Billy.” One perfectly creased shoulder shrugged. “So you kill her.” He eyed the young bar owner. “Or I kill you. Either way, I won’t worry about it anymore.”

Paul gulped loudly. “Can’t we just let her go and all leave town?”

Josie slid to the edge of her chair. The pounding of music through the walls turned ominous, the beat thumping her shoes. “Let me go.” Paul’s desk held a stapler, computer, and pens. No good weapons.

Max laughed, a low dangerous sound that rose goose bumps on her skin. He reached into his pocket for a silver cylinder that he twisted on to the end of the gun. “I like you, Mrs. Dean.”

A silencer. She fixated on the small hole at the end, unable to look away. “How exactly do you plan to get my body out of here?” She aimed the question at Paul, feeling some satisfaction as he gasped.

A deep male sigh hissed through Max’s lips. “Through the back door. Of course.” Quick movements had him grabbing Paul and yanking the young man out from behind the desk.

Max thrust the gun into Paul’s shaking hand and pointed the barrel at Josie. “This might make a mess, but I’m okay with that.”

Paul retreated until his desk stopped him, his eyes filling with tears, his hand shaking so wildly he might accidentally pull the trigger.

Her breath caught in her throat, and the room narrowed to razor-sharp focus.

Max stepped away from Paul. “Shoot her, Paul.”

“I’m sorry.” Paul shut his eyes and pulled the trigger.

Josie dropped low before springing forward to smash her head into Paul’s midsection. His back hit the desk. The bullet pinged off a painting. Paul’s air whooshed out of his lungs. He doubled over, and Josie reached for the gun, her sweating hands slipping on the cold metal.

Max shot forward, grabbing her shoulder. She yelled. Pivoting, she rammed her elbow up into his groin. He made a sound crossed between a squealing pig and nails on a blackboard. He bent at the waist, still grabbing for the gun.

Oh God. This wasn’t happening. Josie tucked her hand around the grip panel of the gun, rolling to the far side and standing up. The scent of splintered wood and gunpowder filled the room. She pointed the gun at Max. Paul dropped to his knees, tears and snot running down his face.