Reveling in Sin Read online

  I thread my fingers through hers. “You can have your say, Blue. No question. But how do you want to do it? A press conference? We can set one up for tomorrow.”

  Whitney shakes her head. “No, I’m doing this right now.” She lifts her gaze toward the front of the house. “The press is here. She’s here. I’m not letting Renee Rango terrorize me for another goddamned day.”

  “Are you sure?” I ask.

  “This sounds like a really risky idea, Whitney,” McKinley says. “Not that I think you shouldn’t have your say, but—”

  Whitney tugs her fingers from my grip. “It’s time. I’m going.”

  10

  Whitney

  The last time I left the Riscoff estate, I was the disgraced maid who’d been caught screwing around with the heir. This time, I’m walking out the door with Lincoln beside me, his sister behind us, and Commodore watching from the massive front porch. He rolled out of his study just in time to catch my march to the front door, making me wonder if the old man has cameras rigged in the house. Either way, I wasn’t going to let him stop me.

  I fully expected Commodore would tell me to let the lawyers handle it, and I wasn’t allowed to make a statement to the press, but he surprised me by saying, “It’s about time you gave them hell, Ms. Gable.”

  The clasp of Lincoln’s hand is strong and warm as I stride toward the gate. Even though fear of the possible repercussions of my actions races through my veins, I’m not going to let it stop me.

  What’s the worst that can happen? I know I should be careful asking that question, but Lincoln knows why I married Ricky and why I stayed with him. I have no more secrets. Renee and the press can ask anything, and I have nothing to hide.

  I do, however, have a hell of a lot to say.

  We reach the gate, and it takes only a moment before someone spots the three of us. The members of the media swing around and abandon their focus on Renee, who now stands on top of the hood of a black Kia.

  “Whitney! Will you answer questions?”

  Lincoln enters a code on the pedestrian gate and it unlocks. He and I step through, but McKinley stays back. The reporters surge forward, trying to get closer to me, but Lincoln holds out a hand.

  “Please keep a respectful distance if you want Ms. Gable to answer your questions. The sheriff is on his way, and anyone who gets too close will be spending the night in jail. Do you understand me?”

  His authoritative tone booms out, and the reporters nod their heads and take a step back.

  Lincoln squeezes my hand. “Ms. Gable has a statement to make, and after that, she may or may not answer questions, so I suggest you remain quiet so you can hear what she has to say.”

  The crowd in front of the gate falls silent, including Renee Rango, which shocks me. Either she’s waiting for a more opportune moment to strike, or she’s subdued by Lincoln’s threatening tone. Regardless, all eyes are now on me.

  I straighten my shoulders and lift my chin.

  “For months, I’ve kept my silence about the events surrounding the death of my husband. I’ve let you crucify me in your articles and haven’t spoken out against a single one of your false accusations. I made that choice, and I’ve lived with the consequences long enough. Now, I’m breaking that silence to tell you what really happened.” They start to murmur to each other, and I add, “If you want the real story behind my marriage to Ricky Rango and how it ended, you’re about to get it.”

  “She’s a liar! Don’t believe a word she says!” Renee’s screech comes out as though on cue.

  I point toward where she stands, with her face turning as red as her hair. “That’s my former mother-in-law, Renee Rango. When I was twenty-one years old, she coerced me into marrying her son using the threat that if I didn’t, she would destroy the Riscoff family.”

  “Why would she have to force you to marry an up-and-coming rock star?”

  I smile sweetly. “Because I dumped him after he cheated on me, but then he realized he wasn’t going to have a career without me.” I take a deep breath. “You’ve been lied to for the last decade. Ricky Rango never wrote a single one of his own songs. I wrote them.”

  The entire crowd goes silent as I drop what might be the biggest news to hit the music industry in years, especially because Ricky was so vocal about his songwriting process and what it meant to be a true artist.

  I just turned a legend into a liar with a single truth.

  The questions come rapid fire after that.

  “You wrote his songs?”

  “Why would Ricky lie?”

  “Why make the claim now when Ricky can’t defend himself?”

  “Do you have proof?”

  And from Renee, “She’s a lying whore! Don’t believe a word she says!”

  “If you want proof, I have over a decade’s worth, including every single draft of every song and all the brainstorming that went into it. No matter what Renee Rango says or what you think, Ricky Rango wasn’t the man he showed to the world. When I asked for a divorce, because I found out he’d been cheating, he threatened to kill me. That was your rock legend. He lived a lie, and he died with people believing that lie.”

  “Why come forward now?”

  “Because I’m tired of being the victim. I’ve spent too long letting other people dictate my life, and I’m taking my power back. Thank you for your time. I’m done here.”

  I turn, and Lincoln follows at my back as we walk toward the pedestrian gate. McKinley pulls it open from the inside.

  The press continues to yell questions until a gunshot explodes.

  “Get down!” Lincoln wraps his arms around me and throws us both through the gate. We hit the ground hard and the metal slams shut behind us.

  11

  Lincoln

  I use my body to cover Whitney on the ground and reach out a hand to pull my sister closer. We wait for another shot to come, but all we hear is mass hysteria.

  “Get her gun!”

  “Don’t let her—”

  “No!”

  That’s when the second gunshot comes, and this one is even louder. I brace for impact, but when nothing hits me, I roll off Whitney and maneuver her and McKinley behind the stone column for better cover.

  “Stay here. Don’t move.”

  I stand as Commodore zips down the driveway in his power chair, holding his shotgun in his lap.

  “No one move,” Commodore roars. “The sheriff will be here momentarily to arrest the person who just attempted to murder my grandson.”

  “Oh my God. Did she hit you?” Whitney whips around, panic in her tone as she scours me for injury.

  “No. I’m fine.”

  “My son died because of that little whore,” Renee Rango screams. “She doesn’t get to live!”

  Whitney attempts to peek around the column to see the woman, but I lock my arms around her.

  “Don’t move until someone has her secured. Don’t make yourself an easy target.”

  “But—” Whitney tries to protest, but I’m not going to take a chance with her. I meet her frantic blue gaze.

  “Your life is more important than whatever shit that crazy woman has to spew. I won’t let Renee Rango take you from me again. No way in hell.”

  The crack of another gunshot has me locking my arms tighter around her.

  “That bitch!” Commodore yells from the driveway. “She fucking shot me!”

  My gaze snaps to my grandfather. His left arm hangs at his side, blood soaking his white shirt.

  I kiss Whitney’s forehead. “Stay here. Don’t move. Got me?”

  She nods, and my attention lands on McKinley. Her expression is one I recognize—hard and determined. It’s her shit got real and it’s time to lock it down expression. She reaches out a hand, as if ready to grab Whitney if she tries to run.

  I bolt toward my grandfather as he lifts the shotgun with only his right arm. The barrel shakes without a second hand to steady it, but that doesn’t stop him from training the gun on Re
nee.

  “Put your goddamn gun down, woman.”

  The reporters who were standing around her have fled for cover, hiding behind cars and trees.

  Wailing sirens grow louder as the sheriff draws closer. Renee stands in the grass, her gun trained on Commodore—and now me.

  “This is all your fault. The great Commodore Riscoff. You’re a joke of a man. You’re the reason your son abandoned me!”

  “Put the gun down, woman, or I’ll pull this trigger. No one shoots at my family.”

  “Give me the gun,” I say from behind him. “You’re losing too much blood.”

  “Not a chance in hell. I don’t trust that woman not to fire again, and if she does, she’s not walking away.”

  Renee cackles like a crazy woman, which arguably, she is. “Your precious family. If you really cared about your family, then you wouldn’t have forced your son to marry that woman.”

  The sheriff’s SUV skids to a halt in the middle of the road, but Renee doesn’t stop her rant.

  “He should’ve still been mine! I’ll kill you all for that!”

  I reach for the controls on my grandfather’s chair and move it to the side as fast as I can before she fires again.

  Renee pulls the trigger and another shot immediately follows it, and it didn’t come from Commodore’s shotgun.

  I look up to see Renee Rango on the ground, her gun at her side. The sheriff rushes over to her, speaking into his radio at the same time.

  Jesus fuck. What a goddamned mess.

  Commodore steers his power chair toward the gate, his bleeding arm pressed to his side. “Everyone in the house. Now.”

  Despite Commodore’s orders, I refuse to leave his side as my sister hustles Whitney up the driveway. Paramedics are on their way, and the gray pallor of my grandfather’s skin scares the hell out of me. I’m not about to lose him today too.

  “I told you to go in the house,” the old man tells me.

  “And I’ve stopped following orders I don’t agree with. Feel free to fire me if you have a problem with that.”

  His bushy white eyebrows draw together as I yank off my shirt, then tear it into strips to wrap them around his arm to stop the bleeding.

  “Stubborn SOB,” he mutters, and the tone of his voice betrays the pain he’s in.

  “Just like my grandfather, so I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  A glint of something that looks a hell of a lot like approval shines in his gaze when he looks up at me.

  More sirens pierce the air as the deputies arrive, blue and red lights flashing. The reporters have abandoned their cover in favor of snapping as many pictures of the aftermath of what happened.

  The deputies set up a perimeter and shoo the press away, but they don’t stop. They’re vultures, just like Whitney said.

  Renee Rango might have been crazy, but even she deserves better than that. I stand up to open the gate for the sheriff and yell as it shuts behind him.

  “Put your fucking cameras down and have some goddamned respect.”

  Every head turns in my direction, and I couldn’t care less. I return to my grandfather’s side while we await the EMTs.

  He answers the sheriff’s questions about what happened, and I can’t help but feel sorry for Renee Rango. Something in her broke a long time ago, and she never recovered.

  Or my father broke her.

  Just the thought of how many lives his actions have affected makes me vow that I’ll never be like him. And now we may never know the whole truth of what happened.

  12

  Whitney

  Harrison looks up over the edge of his newspaper when McKinley and I return to the drawing room. I didn’t want to come in the house. I wanted to stay out front with Lincoln, but McKinley convinced me to come inside by telling me I would just distract him.

  “Were those gunshots?” Harrison asks.

  “Are you serious? How could you not come out and check on us if you thought you heard gunshots?” McKinley snaps. “Do you really not give a damn about anything but yourself?”

  Harrison lowers the paper. “Why would I run toward gunshots? I’m not an idiot. Either way, I figured that if Lincoln got shot, someone had to survive to take over the company.”

  His nonchalant tone and absolute lack of concern makes me want to murder him where he sits. How can he be so callous about the health and safety of his own siblings? I hate thinking of Asa out in the field where he’s no doubt dodging bullets regularly. It guts me to think of him in danger.

  McKinley lashes out at her brother. “That’s all you care about, isn’t it? The money you’d inherit if Lincoln died? You disgust me.”

  “For being smart? I refuse to apologize for that, and it’s certainly not disgusting. Father would have approved.” He drops his attention back to his paper, and I want to rip it out of his hands and beat him over the head with it.

  Harrison reminds me of Karma, and as far as I’m concerned, you don’t need enemies when you have family like that.

  McKinley swipes her laptop off the table and holds it against her chest. “I hope you can pull your head out of your ass and realize what a dick you’re being without us losing another family member. Commodore just got shot, and you haven’t even bothered to ask if everyone was okay.”

  Harrison pops out of his chair. “What the fuck? Is he dead?”

  McKinley swings around to face him. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? And no, he’s not dead. You think we’d be standing here if he was? What the hell is wrong with you, Harrison?”

  Her brother bolts toward the door, and we both watch him go.

  “I’ll never understand him,” McKinley whispers, and that makes two of us.

  “Are you sure we shouldn’t go back out? Your grandfather—”

  “Is as tough as nails,” she finishes for me. “Commodore will outlive us all. I’m nearly certain of that.”

  “But what if they need to take him to the hospital?”

  McKinley laughs quietly. “He’ll never go. Not for himself. He’ll have a doctor here within the next twenty minutes to do whatever needs doing, guaranteed.”

  I know she’s right, and the last thing I want to do is get in the way of the chaos outside—or offer the press more chances to take pictures. But still, it doesn’t feel right hiding inside.

  “Are you sure?”

  McKinley nods. “Absolutely.” She strides toward the massive entrance to the room and pauses before it. “You can come with me to the library if you’d like to distract yourself while we wait.”

  Go with McKinley, or stay and pace the living room by myself and feel completely useless? It’s not much of a choice to make.

  I follow her out of the room. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but has Harrison always been that big of an asshole? I have a cousin who’s angry at the world, and I swear she’s been like that since birth.”

  McKinley walks and talks at the same time. “He used to be different, actually. When we were little, he was fun and nice. I think it all changed when he saw Commodore take extra interest in Lincoln and not him, and when he asked why, my mother told him he wouldn’t get anything because Lincoln would inherit everything. I wish she never had. I wish none of us had ever known, because it changed a lot of things.”

  “But you’re not like him . . .”

  McKinley shrugs. “I guess I never saw a reason to be bitter. I didn’t expect a handout. I expected to work for everything I would ever get, because that’s the way Commodore has always been. Nothing is a given. Everything is earned. I started working at the resort when I was eight. I helped organize name cards and place settings for wedding receptions because I loved to watch the people come in, all dressed up, and then the bride and groom were so happy and in love.” She trails off, and it’s not a difficult conclusion to come to that she didn’t see a lot of love in this house.

  “I started working about that age too. On the family farm. I was in charge of collecting eggs and feeding the chicke
ns.”

  McKinley stops in front of a wooden door that must be at least twenty feet tall. “Were your parents ever happy?”

  Part of me is shocked she asked the question, when we both know what happened with my mom and her father. Still, if she can find the guts to ask the question, then I can give her an honest answer.

  “No. Not that I remember.”

  She hugs her laptop to her chest. “I’m never getting married. I’m going to stay firmly in love with my hotel, and that’s it.”

  Her declaration makes me sad, but I can’t blame her.

  “You might change your mind if the right guy shows you that it can be different.”

  McKinley pushes open the door, and I’m too dumbstruck by what’s beyond it to continue making whatever point I was attempting.

  “Holy shit. This is . . . unreal.”

  McKinley smiles. “It’s my favorite place in the house. I used to pretend that I was Belle and trapped in the Beast’s castle when I was a kid.” She shakes her head. “Let’s not dive too deeply into that fantasy, because I’m sure my shrink would have a field day if I ever mentioned it.”

  “I don’t blame you one bit,” I tell her in a hushed tone as we walk inside. The room is two stories high, and books line hundreds of shelves. “This is amazing.”

  She sets up her laptop on a table in front of a window that looks out over the gorge. “I’ve missed it. I’ve been working so much at the resort that I barely make it home. Mother was always hounding me to spend more time here, but she made it hard to want to . . .”

  McKinley blinks back tears, and for a moment, she looks so much like the young girl that I once protected from bullies that it breaks my heart. It’s been hours since she lost her mother, her grandfather just took a bullet, and she’s been so strong. It only makes sense that she would break.