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I stared at him for a long while, not saying a word because I didn’t know what to say. Maybe I did want to fuck her but that was it. She was sexy and fiery and I loved women like that. Rob was wrong about me wanting anything beyond getting Sanai on her back, though.
Wrong as fuck.
Four
“You had time to run out behind that boy then you can take time to have dinner with your mother.” Tilted brown eyes that matched my own stared back at me in the kitchen of the home I grew up in. I pressed my palms to the counter and pulled in a deep breath. I needed to take deep breaths around my parents because if I didn’t, my head would fucking explode.
“I told you I didn’t run out behind anyone. I had to take care of some business. It’s not my fault Bakari left at the same time.” I shrugged and opened the refrigerator to busy myself so my true feelings didn’t pop out of my mouth.
The truth was when I saw Bakari walk into Junior’s house earlier today, I didn’t freeze…I melted. I hated my body so much. I still hated Bakari more. Who the fuck told him to walk in looking that good?
He had the freshest haircut, a caramel brown turtle neck, and a black pea coat. Everything looked tailor-made for his athletic muscles. Every color looked hand-picked for his deep mocha skin tone. Then he had the goddamn audacity to look at me with those deep bedroom eyes. I’d never picked up my phone to feign concentration so fast in my damn life.
Even though we were all in Junior Baptiste’s house, Bakari stood out. His energy crackled and flared to life, pulling everyone’s attention, including my parents. Bakari made sure to let everyone know he was taking up space. He kept his foot on everyone’s neck at all times and I couldn’t lie, it was kind of sexy.
When I closed the fridge, my mother stood there with an expression made from stone. “So you know his name?” she asked, lifting an immaculately arched eyebrow.
“You know his name, too. You’re registered at the Temple. He’s a Godwin,” I scoffed. I hated the way I said his last name. Like his family were kings. How the hell was he annoying me and he wasn’t even around?
“I’m just mentioning how easily you let his name slip out of your mouth.” She folded her arms across her chest. “And you wouldn’t happen to know why Bakari Godwin showed up at Junior’s house a week after your failed attempt at killing him, would you?”
“No.” I gave her a blank stare. “Why would I know anything about what he’s doing or why he does it?”
“I’m making sure you didn’t slip up and tell him who shot Junior. Since you like to make the worst kind of goddamn mistakes you possibly can.” Her words sliced through to my heart but I brushed them off, stiffening my spine and pulling my shoulders back.
“I told you, he moved when I fired the shot. You can’t blame me for that. You know I’m a good shot.” I was a better shot than her, but now wasn’t the time to rub that in her face.
I started learning how to shoot when I was ten years old. I hit every single one of my targets without any misses. That went for moving and stationary targets. I was nice with a knife, a sword, and a fucking taser. There was no weapon that I wasn’t proficient in. None of my sisters or my older brother could say that, but it didn’t matter to my mother. She only saw the mistakes I made. Never the progress or the success.
“I’m blaming it on you because it’s your fault. When the Temple goes down, it’ll be your fault. When your little boyfriend, Dr. Breeze, gets killed because he’s too fucking arrogant, it’ll be your fault, Sanai. All because you missed your shot.”
“Are you done? I’m leaving. I have somewhere to go.”
“No, you don’t. Even if you did, I’d forbid it right now. Your sisters and brother will be here shortly and like I said, we’re having dinner together.”
“Okay, well I don’t want to have dinner with y'all.” Finally, the truth slipped out. Mother pulled her head back letting a sly smile curl her lips.
“Now your real feelings come out. Don’t be mad at your siblings for being better killers than you. Don’t be mad when I don’t assign any more jobs to you because you can’t handle the pressure of being a Sinclair.”
“What the hell do you mean you’re not assigning any more jobs to me?” My brows pulled together. My mother was head of the Sinclair family organization. It started with her great-grandfather and went on from there through the generations. She fell for my father because he was a hitter when my grandfather was in charge. We’d kept up the church façade for about as long as the family business had existed. Being a hitter was my birthright.
My grandfather told me he saw something in me that he hadn’t seen in a very long time. He always complimented my precision and ability to go nearly stealth on my training missions. He saw everything my mother couldn’t. Or maybe she refused to see it in me because her own father didn’t see it in her.
“You heard me, Sanai. You fucked up the biggest mission of the goddamn season. I trusted you with it because you’re always whining about me not giving you the same level of mission I give your siblings. Well, I finally decided to, and look what happened.” She tossed her hand in the air and my cheeks grew hot. What the hell could I say to her in my defense?
My throat was tight and I felt the familiar sting of tears building in my eyes. I refused to let her see me cry. I couldn’t.
Thankfully, the front door opened and my sister, Zara’s voice rang out. “Hey, family. Is Father here?” The click of her heels made their way to the kitchen where she stopped in her tracks once she saw my face.
Zara was always able to tell when something was wrong with me. Now was no different. She blinked, refocusing on Mother. “Everything okay in here?” She sat down a bottle of wine on the counter. Instead of answering her, Mother left the kitchen without a word. I hated the way she left me feeling.
I hated the fact that I still loved and respected her even though she didn’t offer me the same luxuries. Zara turned to me with wide eyes and parted lips. “I don’t want to talk about it,” I told her, holding my hand up.
“You’ve been quiet ever since that mission last week, Nai. What’s up?”
“I told you, Zara, I don’t want to talk about it. Your mother thinks she’s holding me hostage in this house to have dinner but I’m about to leave.” I reached for my keys and clutched them in my hand, pressing their sharp metal teeth into my palm just to feel some kind of bite. I needed something to take my mind off my failure.
“O…kay. Look, let me walk with you to your car.” She sighed and took hold of my hand. We walked in silence out of the front door and I cursed silently at myself for shutting the door quietly so I didn’t alert my mother to the fact that I was leaving against her orders. I was grown as fuck. Twenty-five years old. Still, something about disobeying my mother sent an icy chill up my spine.
