Unleashing Sin - A. M. Wilson Page 0,4
stay here.” Crawling to the sofa, I turn and sit with my back against the edge. My head is near her stomach where the scent of the leather couch barely masks the putrid odor of an unwashed, soiled body. The vomit I only just choked down comes crawling back up again.
In my peripheral, I can just make out her face. Not that I want to. God, the sight is like a punch to the gut. I deserve it. My mind is screaming, Stare at her, fucker. Look what you did.
So I look.
Then I look away.
And look again.
How can one person be so close to heavenly while at the same time look like hell?
Forcing myself to breathe deeply through my nose and relax, I drop my head back onto the leather seat and close my eyes. She’s here. That’s enough for right now. When Elias gets back, we’ll take her to the hospital, then home. We’ll clean her up and care for her injuries. I swear on my fucking life that I’ll do whatever it takes to heal her.
Chapter Two
Sin
“You got a room at your place? It’s the safest. I have a doc I can call to make a house visit.” Richard’s voice breaks through my alcohol-induced fog, but the words don’t register.
“You hearing me, Sin?”
Joints pop and creak as I shift my useless ass off the hardwood floor of the office. I must have slipped down when I fell asleep.
“No.” I scrub a hand over my face.
“Got room for Molly? It’s best we bring her to your place.”
That wakes me up. I planned on having her home, but she needs to be looked at first. She could have some serious injuries.
“What about the hospital? Look at her. She’s a fuckin’ mess.” My arm is a wild blur of color as I gesture angrily at the sofa where Molly’s still unconscious. “What about X-rays or MRIs or other tests? She’s been gone for years, Richard. I’m takin’ her in.”
“You can’t,” he replies. He cracks his knuckles together and crosses his arms over his chest. “This operation is big scale. You know this. They have people inside places like that. How often you see a prostitute swing by a hospital for a checkup, eh? Never. She’d be picked up and beaten again as soon as she got out. Or worse, dead. It’s not worth risking. Let’s get her home, get Doc over. If anything’s more serious than cuts and bruises, we’ll figure it out.”
I study the swirls of mud on my boots as if they contain the answers. Getting nowhere fast, I look at Elias.
“Take her home,” he says carefully yet firm. “I’ll pull the SUV around. Richard, can you carry her?”
“I got her,” I nearly snarl, but for fuck’s sake, she’s my flesh and blood. I failed to protect her years ago, but I’m not about to fail again.
“That half bottle of scotch might say differently,” Elias replies, raising an eyebrow in challenge.
“Go get the car, fucker. I got her.”
He snorts at my remark, and I have the urge to throw what’s left of the scotch at his retreating back. If he wasn’t such a damn good friend, I might have more than considered it.
Nerves electrify as I near Molly. The thought of touching her after so long nearly brings me to my knees again. If I believed in a God, I’d be thanking him. I don’t know why those bastards let her go, but I’d sell my soul to ensure her safety from here on out.
I believed her to be dead. The statistics were there. Forty-eight hours after being taken by Gutierrez, she was sold, or she was dead.
When we couldn’t find her, I prayed she was dead.
But something didn’t feel right. She didn’t feel departed from this world. My heart wouldn’t accept the fact that my baby sister was gone. I’d know if she was. I always believed I’d feel it. And I knew I wouldn’t rest until I found her and took down those responsible for stealing her from me.
Remembering the hours of pain, bloodshed, and tears, I tentatively slide my hand beneath her frail knees, hooking them over my forearm and repeat the action with her upper back. I hoist her into my arms as though she weighs nothing more than a feather pillow. The ridged bumps of her spine dig into my supporting hand, causing a wave of goose bumps to rise over my flesh. Using my chin, I push the hair away from her face