Sinners Condemned (Sinners Anonymous, #2)

by Somme Sketcher

“Does your crystal ball need a polish? She’s six-feet-under, darling.”

“The Queen of Hearts is detrimental. You could have all the success in the world, but she’ll bring you to your knees.”

“Because only a crazy person would have the nerve to pull a con on Raphael Visconti.” Visconti. Raphael Visconti. Well, shit.

“You sure are persistent for a man that isn’t interested.” His gaze drops to my mouth. “Oh, I’m interested.”

“Do you want to talk about it, or do you want to be distracted?”

“I’d rather shut my dick in a car door than do this again some time, Penelope.”

Raphael Visconti may look like a gentleman, may talk like a gentleman. But he is anything but a gentleman.

He speaks low and soft, as if he doesn’t give a flying fuck that nobody aside from Rory can hear his oath. The way he looks at her confirms this. It’s like she’s the only person in the Reserve, in the world, and if this were the case for the rest of his life, then he’d be perfectly content with that.

“It feels like your heart is walking outside of your body.” Her gaze finds Angelo’s again, and I watch in fascination as a pink flush creeps from underneath her necklace. “My heart now wears Armani and has a Glock for every day of the week.”

“Are you obsessed with me, Penelope?”

She pronounces Anna like Uh-Nah, and based on that alone, I stop feeling even the tiniest bit guilty about interrupting her chat with Raphael.

But not tonight. Because tonight, a certain copper-haired brat with sticky fingers and an attitude problem keeps stealing my attention. Penelope Price.

“I was the same when my mom passed, but only for a few months. Guess you can’t put a timeline on grief.”

There’s only a small difference between a thug and a businessman, kid. One has blood on his hands, while the other has blood on someone else’s.

“Do you want me to be a gentleman to you, Penelope?”

Don’t call me boss when you’re half-naked, Penelope. I might just get the wrong idea.

My gaze narrows on the panic carved into her face. “What’s wrong?” Again, no answer. I sweep an eye over the empty street, then step inside, slamming the door shut behind me. I grip her chin. “I’m not in the business of asking twice, Penelope.”

“You’re a dog, Penelope,” he says breezily over his shoulder. “I should look into putting you down.” “They already tried.”

His footsteps slow to a stop and he glances back at me. “And?” “I bit the vet.”

“I’ve killed men for saying nicer things about my mama, Penelope.”

“Were you born a cunt, or were you turned into one by school bullies and a father that didn’t love you?”

This girl isn’t the Queen of Hearts, but the Devil in disguise. Unfortunately, I can’t say for sure I wouldn’t follow her into hell.

“Get in the car.”

“Get in the car.” “Say please.”

At first, I think it’s another playing card, but when I pull it out, I realize it’s a Black Amex. My eyes clash with Raphael’s. “Pin is four, eight, four, two,” he says quietly. He locks his fingers behind his head and leans back against the headrest. His gaze flashes like a warning sign. “Now, take it off.”

But then a firm, hot hand slides under the blazer and rests on my thigh. I glance up at Raphael, but he’s focusing on the gap between the whooshing wipers, steering the car with the palm of his other hand. “Strip for another man again, and he’ll die crossing the road.”

I move to get away from him, but he’s quicker than he looks. His hand shoots out and grips my wrist. Three pairs of eyes, including my own, glare down at it. In my peripheral vision, Raphael leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees.

It’s so quiet I can hear the tick of Raphael’s Breitling on my wrist. The whir of the blender going on the other side of the door. How can Dan make passion fruit martinis at a time like this?

“Just because I’m a gentleman, Penelope, doesn’t always mean I’m a gentle man.”

“Why do you care if I cry?” He tracks his thumb as it trails further down, across my bottom lip and along my chin. He grips me there for a moment, regret coating his features. “Because last night, I saw you laugh.”

“Go to sleep.” “But—” “But nothing, Penelope. Forget about Martin O’Hare; he’s my problem now.”

“Do as I say, not as I do, Little P,”