Tortured Sinner by Tessa James
Johnny - 34
I’ve never been much of a sports guy, but I imagine having sex with Claire is comparable to winning the Superbowl or something similar in nature. Or maybe it’s more like traveling to the moon or winning the Nobel Peace Prize.
Visualize the best thing you could think of, and multiply it by ten billion. Yeah, that's probably closer to the experience we just shared.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had sex. But not like that.
Passion. Intensity. Connection.
From the very moment I bumped into her that first day she arrived here, there’s been an undeniable pull between us.
Call me crazy, but there’s something about the way Claire looks at me. Like she knows me. Like she sees me. It’s enough to set my soul on fire in the best way possible. I can be myself with her. Truly and utterly vulnerable. Nothing shakes her, and for once, I feel not so alone in the world.
“You okay?” Claire asks over the top of her cup of coffee. She’s staring at me, which tells me I must have been zoning out.
I study her face—the soft edges and subtle glow about her. Her lips, still a little puffy from our intimate time together. The freckle just a hair away from her brow.
"Yeah," I breathe.
I’ll never have any clue what I did to be so fucking lucky. Not only is Claire pretty much drop-dead gorgeous, but she’s incredibly smart, too. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s carrying a four-point-oh. She’s managed to maintain her grades and somehow help me raise all of mine. She’s taken on a part-time job, and still somehow unraveled the great mystery of where the stolen package was located. All while making new friends and being braver than anyone I’ve ever met. She’s kind and thoughtful and fiercely badass. Not to mention, all she’s had to endure up until this point. She was forced to move across the country, live in an unfamiliar place with a mom she’s never known, and deal with a psychotic stalker boyfriend. And that’s just what I’m aware of.
Claire is a freaking angel.
“You ready to get out of here?” She reaches for the check, which completely snaps me out of my train of thought.
No way in hell I’m allowing her to pay for our food. I clearly have more money than I know what to do with, and she works hard for hers. It’s the least I could do for everything she’s done for me.
I manage to hop up and rush to the register to block Claire from intercepting the bill.
Bram smiles and cashes us out. “You kids seem happy.”
Claire comes to my side, wrapping her arms around me.
I look down at her, her gaze meeting mine.
Something I haven’t known, staring right back at me—happiness.
A loud pop sounds from outside—the kind that could be easily confused with fireworks.
I shift my attention toward the door and tighten my hold on Claire.
Another bang rattles through the diner.
I turn toward Claire and Bram. “Stay here.”
Claire grabs at my hand. “What? No, you can’t go out there!” Panic is written across her face.
“I’ll be right back,” I reassure her. I glance at Bram to help me out.
He seems just as startled as her.
I rush out the front of the diner, the doorbell dinging at my exit.
People are slowly rising from their cowered positions near cars and random stuff on the street. I make eye contact with an older woman and she points to my left. My stomach sinks when I notice the exact location.
I make my way over and poke my head into the dark alley with caution.
A large body lay on the ground, partially obscured by the lack of light.
I’m taken abruptly back to that night when I was beaten and left behind, only for Claire to come to my rescue.
This time, it’s the person who beat me, lying bloodied on the ground.
The same guy who threatened Claire.
Jared coughs and blood flies out of his mouth. There’s a gaping wound in his chest that he frantically tries to apply pressure to. His gaze flicks across the alley and when I follow it, I find another body.
This one completely lifeless. My beer-pong opponent. Steve.
Jared’s partner in crime.
Footsteps rustle at the street entrance, drawing my attention.
“God damn it, Claire, get out of here.” I plead with her to go.
She rushes to my side, her eyes wide with shock.
Bram appears next, along with random onlookers.
“Someone call nine-one-one!” I say into the mass of them.
Jared’s red lips part, and he tries to say something.
“What?” I lean in closer.
He whispers his final words and takes his last, dying breath.
“Holy shit, is he…?” Claire latches onto my arm.
I let go of Jared’s dead body and slowly stand. I look from Jared to Steve, noting the now incredibly visible guns at both of their sides.
This was meant to look like a setup. Like a double homicide. It's clean, tidy, and has absolutely no strings connecting what happened in this alley to anyone else. The police will come and think it was just an unfortunate altercation where both parties ended up dead. The only people who will have any idea of the truth are already too deep under Franklin's control to say a damn thing. It's fucking clever, really, but scary as fuck. If Franklin can orchestrate something so simple yet elaborate, what else is he capable of?
And the sheer fact that he staged it to happen in the very place where the two of these guys beat and stole that package from me… Well, it’s twistedly poetic. Plus, a huge fucking warning of what would have happened to me had I not been the one to have gotten it back to him.
Franklin was out for blood, one way or another.