Page 22 of Madness & Mercy (Deadly Sins #1)

NICO

Well, that sure as hell didn’t go according to plan…

I only meant to toy with him, maybe coax a little more truth out of him. Push him to the edge and watch him sweat. That was the plan. Seduce him, just enough to make him slip.

But the bastard flipped the script on me. Got under my skin. Made me forget what the hell I was even looking for.

And when he looked at me, flushed, wrecked, begging me to ruin him?

Fuck… logic didn’t just go out the window. It shattered.

I didn’t even know sex could feel like that. Like a firestorm tearing through everything I thought I could control. Like I’ve been starving my whole life and just now realized what it means to be fed.

Good thing I had protection. I wasn’t planning on needing it tonight, but ever since I met Julian Cross, I’ve been carrying one on me like a fucking fool.

Wishful thinking, I guess.

Now he’s out cold, sprawled across my dining room table. His body’s a mess. My mess. Marked, flushed, trembling from the inside out. And all I can do is stare.

I should be planning my next move. Should be interrogating him. Should be doing anything other than thinking about how good he looked with my hand around his throat and my name on his tongue.

But instead, I’m thinking about protection.

Not the kind I slipped on before I lost control.

The other kind.

The kind that makes me want to hunt down every bastard who’s ever hurt him, Braga included, and make them disappear.

Because whatever Julian is—liar, spy, hitman—I can’t fucking help it.

Somewhere along the way, I stopped wanting to destroy him and started wanting to protect him.

Even if he turns out to be the bullet meant for my head.

I carry him upstairs to my bedroom.

For all that muscle, he’s lighter than he looks. He fits in my arms like he was fucking built for it. Doesn’t even stir when I lay him down, just breathes soft and steady, lashes trembling slightly in his sleep. Like some beautiful, breakable thing no one’s ever bothered to handle gently.

And now here I am, tucking the devil into bed.

This is messing with my head.

It’s not just protection I’m thinking about anymore.

It’s him.

Julian Cross, with his filthy mouth and fucked-up mind.

With the way he looks at me like he wants to kill me and kiss me in the same breath.

I should be focused on strategy; on pulling apart his story, unraveling the lies, cutting out the rot.

But instead, I’m lying awake thinking about how to make him happy.

Fucking pathetic.

I don’t do this. I don’t care.

But he’s branded himself into my skin. Into my fucking blood. And I can’t get him out.

Who the hell are you, really?

Downstairs, I thought I saw him, just for a second, and it still wasn’t enough.

I don’t sleep. Instead, I lock myself in my office, tearing through everything I can find. Luca’s running his own investigation, but I need answers now. I need to know what the hell I’ve let into my house… into my bed.

But he’s a fucking ghost.

No socials. No trace. It’s like he never existed.

I slam the laptop shut. Then I think about what he told me. About Braga. About being used. Drugged. Controlled. And I snap.

Because whether he’s telling the truth or not, whether it’s a full lie or just a twisted piece of it, someone hurt him.

And they’ll bleed for it.

He begged to come with me when I find Braga. Begged to help. And I might just let him. I want to see what he’d do. Would he hesitate? Would he make Braga suffer? Would he want me to do it while he watched?

What else does Julian Cross like?

He likes Maserati’s. I promised him one, didn’t I? I’ll deliver it tomorrow. Let him take it for a spin, with me in the passenger seat.

I know he likes being dominated. Not the sweet, willing kind either. He likes being forced to give in. Broken down. He provokes on purpose, just to get punished. Pushes until he gets exactly what he wants.

A smirk creeps across my face.

Julian Cross is a brat.

He likes the simple shit. Plain clothes, no flashy watches or loud jewelry. He doesn’t care about his image the way most people do. He doesn’t put effort into his appearance and still manages to look sexy as hell.

He likes pain. He likes chaos. He likes violence, craves it. Maybe even needs it to feel something.

But that’s all surface level.

I don’t know shit about where he comes from, about his family or his past.

But I do know one thing.

Paulo Braga hurt him.

And for that?

I’m going to fucking gut him.

He’ll bleed out all over my concrete floors. Slowly. Painfully.

Until there’s nothing left.

I spend the rest of the night laying out the hit, Every possible angle. Every exit. Every goddamn bullet I’m gonna put in Braga’s body: two to the chest, one to the head. And that’s after I torture him.

If he’s the hitman behind all this, it’s perfect. Killing two birds with one stone. If not? Then Julian Cross stays right here. Close. Leashed. Mine until I figure out what the hell he’s really playing at.

As soon as sunlight slips through the blinds, I grab my phone and dial Enzo.

“Yo,” he answers groggily.

I sigh. “You detail that Maserati I told you to?”

A pause.

“Yeah, it’s in storage. You want it now?”

“I want it parked out front in fifteen. Then grab the Benz. We’re going hunting.”

A beat of silence.

“You wanna roll up on Braga in a fucking Maserati? We’ve got blacked-out SUVs for a reason.”

I grit my teeth, jaw ticking.

“Just do it. I’m not in the mood for a goddamn debate.”

“Alright, alright. Damn. You got it, boss.”

Click.

I shoot a message to Luca next.

NICO: Change of plans.

We’re taking out Braga today. I’ve got a plan.

His reply comes quick.

LUCA: I’ll meet you in the office.

I’ve got some dirt on Cross.

My thumb hovers over the keyboard for a moment too long.

NICO: Not now.

Cross can wait.

Braga’s my only concern.

The typing bubble appears, stops, then reappears.

LUCA: You sure about that?

I clench my jaw. The answer’s already pulsing in my blood.

NICO: Just get your ass here in minutes.

Don’t make me ask twice.

LUCA: On my way.

I toss the phone down and grab my gun. If Braga thinks he can touch what’s mine and walk away breathing, he’s about to learn how wrong he is.

Enzo pulls the Maserati around just as Luca strides through the office door, his expression already sour.

“What’s the plan?” he asks, no greeting, no bullshit.

I don’t look up from loading my gun.

“First, we wake up the bastard downstairs and make him an offer—his life for Braga’s location.”

Luca stops dead, scowling. “You seriously think he’ll flip? That piece of shit is loyal. We had to take four fingers just to get a damn whisper out of him.”

I slam the magazine in and crack my neck.

“I’ve thought of that. I want Cross to talk to him.”

Luca stares like I just handed him a grenade.

“You want one hostage to convince another to snitch?” His voice drops. “You out of your fucking mind?”

I raise an eyebrow.

“You questioning me now?”

He shifts but doesn’t back down. “I’m saying it’s a long shot.”

“I don’t do long shots,” I growl. “I do wins. And if Cross really worked under Braga like he says, he’s the only leverage we’ve got that might make this guy talk.”

Luca’s jaw tightens. “You sure you’re not letting your obsession with Cross cloud your judgment?”

I step in close, my voice low and cold. “Choose your next words carefully, Luca. Have I ever been wrong?”

He clenches his teeth. “No, sir.”

“Then shut the fuck up and follow orders.” I straighten, checking the safety. “Here’s the deal. You brief Enzo after this. I’ll bring Cross down to the basement, see what else we can squeeze out of our friend. He told me he’s got intel. Might as well make himself useful.”

Luca crosses his arms. “And then what?”

“Then we move.” I tick the plan off on my fingers. “You take the bike, Enzo takes the Benz, Cross and I take the Maserati.”

He lifts a brow. “Flashy.”

I ignore him.

“And the hostage?”

“We keep him until Braga’s body hits the dirt. Then we decide what to do with him.”

Luca narrows his eyes. “You’re not seriously thinking of letting him walk?”

“If Cross is right, he’s just a pawn. Nothing more than a junkie grunt with a gun and a paycheck. But run a full background. If we find even a whisper of betrayal, we bury him next to his boss.”

Luca drags a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated, but he nods once.

“Fine. Have it your way.”

“Damn right I will,” I mutter as he turns and walks out.

I look out the window at the Maserati, the engine still running, and smirk.

Let’s go make a deal with the devil.

I walk upstairs to the bedroom.

Julian’s still out cold, sprawled on his stomach, one arm dangling off the edge of the bed, snoring like a damn chainsaw. Barely a sheet covering that sin of a body. He looks too peaceful. Too vulnerable. It pisses me off… and turns me on.

I step closer, watching the slow rise and fall of his back. He’s not waking up with a gentle nudge, not this time.

I lean down, my mouth brushing his ear.

“Time to wake up, piccolino,” I whisper, letting the edge of my breath drag across his skin.

He grumbles something half-dead and turns away from me, clearly still dreaming.

So that’s how it’s gonna be…

I let my lips trail from his jaw to the corner of his mouth. Then I claim his, stealing the air from his lungs.

He stirs, brow furrowing, breath hitching against my mouth.

Another kiss, firmer this time. My hand slides into his hair.

He wakes with a sharp inhale. “What the—”

“Morning, sunshine.” I murmur against his lips. “We’ve got business.”

His eyes are still hazy with sleep, lips parted, body tense beneath me. And I love it. Love how easily I can shake him.

He swallows hard. “You always wake people up like that?”

“Only the ones I own.”

Julian grunts, dragging himself out of bed with the grace of a hungover assassin. He rubs the sleep from his eyes, his voice low and gravelly.

“What kind of business?”

“Taking care of Braga.”