Page 52 of His Sinful Need

“Let’s get you into a shower.” He turns me toward the stairs, and, with his hand in the small of my back, we go up them together, then into the guest bathroom along the landing. I stand there in the white, tiled room that I don’t think I’ve ever used before. I’m compliant, docile, while he unbuttons my shirt, stiff with dry blood, and pulls it off me. He kneels to unlace my boots, helping me pull out my feet, then removes my socks.

He stands again to unthread my belt, then looks into my face with his fingers hovering over the button of my jeans. “You okay with taking these off?”

I just stare mutely back.

“I can leave if you—” I grab his arm, and the words die in his throat. I can’t speak. But I don’t need to. “Okay,” he says gently. “Okay.”

He strips me down all the way, but there’s nothing sexy about it, not when I look down my body and see all those rust-colored stains from a young man who won’t ever get to laugh again, or drink beers with the crew again, or kiss his Nonna again.

And Nico…

Oh, God, Nico might die, too.

And it’s all my fault.

Max starts the shower and then strips off himself before guiding me under the showerhead. He stands behind me, directs my head under the warm stream, and I close my eyes as the water turns pink, swirling around my feet. He massages the blood out of my hair, turns me around to sluice me down, thorough but gentle, so that when I open my eyes again, the water is no longer stained with my failures.

I feel numb, even when Max pulls me into a hug. I just stand there, grabbing hard at his shoulders, wishing that none of this had ever happened.

We stay there a long time, his hand soothing up and down my back occasionally, until I feel like I can let go without collapsing. He pulls me out, dries me down, and swaddles me up in the fluffy guest robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door.

“You need to take care of yourself tonight,” he says. “No drinking.”

I give a short laugh that threatens to turn into a sob. “I plan to get smashed enough to forget my own name, Max. Sorry.”

“Really,” he tells me gently, “that’s not a good idea, not if you’re seeing the Maestra tomorrow. And you need to sleep. You don’t wanna be in your head all night.” He hasn’t stopped touching me since we got home, and I’m so relieved by it, like if he took his hand away, I’d spiral into nothingness.

But the idea of sleeping when Rook is lying cold on a mortician’s slab doesn’t sit well. “Nah. I’m gonna sit up. Head’s not in the right place to sleep.”

“Take it from someone who’s been there. Don’t sit up all night torturing yourself. Please.”

“You want me to torture myself lying awake in bed instead?”

It provokes a half-smile. “If it makes it any better, I could lie awake there with you. But I don’t have to, if you don’t—”

“No,” I say quickly. “I want you there. That…” I sigh. “That might help.”

* * *

I have to admit, Max has a point. Getting into the bed, just letting my muscles relax after I’ve been tense all day…it does help. I can breathe a little easier, for one thing.

But I figure there’s another heads up I owe Max. He’s lying on his side facing me, and I’m on my back staring straight up at the dark ceiling. His hand is on my shoulder, warm and solid. “Listen,” I say into the dark, “after I see Anna-Vittoria tomorrow, I probably won’t be Capo anymore. Hell, I might not bealiveanymore, depending on what happens with Nico. But I want you to know that I appreciate your support. And I’ll let the Maestra know that you did everything you could to help.”

I’m barely even worried about tomorrow. I’m happy to take whatever’s coming to me, but Max did nothing wrong.

“She won’t kill you,” Max murmurs.

I give a scoff. “How do you know?”

“Because she’s not stupid. No one in a job like hers is stupid.”

I take that in but say nothing, another wave of self-hatred building up inside. “Sheshouldkill me,” I mutter at last. “It’s what I deserve.”

I put my hands over my face, trying to hide away. From Max, from the truth, from everything. But he just pulls me into a hug.

“Hey,” he says in my ear. “You’re not responsible for what happened. Everyone in the crew understood the risks, and everyone went in with their eyes open.”

“But I’m Capo,” I say, my voice muffled by his shoulder. “We all knew what we were getting ourselves into, sure. But it’s my responsibility, what happened.”

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