Page 2 of Protected by the Sinner (The Sinner’s Touch #2)

New Orleans – Louisiana

Three Years Later

The car skids over a puddle, the last trace of the downpour that hit just a while ago.

I take in the colorful buildings, their worn-out charm. The balconies with their plants, and the trash scattered on the street by passersby.

It’s strange how we’re always drawn to our origins.

I grew up thinking I didn’t belong anywhere. We moved around so much, there was never time to put down roots.

Now I know why: Landon had to perform services for the Sicilians in different states, and whenever he drew too much attention in one place, he’d be sent to another.

My revenge is partially complete. He’s dead.

I killed him exactly one week after Aurellie, my adoptive mother, told me the truth. Until that conversation, I couldn’t understand why that bastard hadn’t left me and his wife sooner.

The puzzle pieces finally clicked into place when I learned he had waited to get the inheritance from an uncle, a case that had dragged on for years in court, before walking away.

He fled the country with the money, counting on the love my mother had for me to be enough to keep her silent.

He believed his secret was safe.

Landon was both right and wrong.

Her love for me protected him. Aurellie feared for years that I’d hate her once I knew everything.

Her love for me killed him. She wanted me to know how dangerous he could be.

What she didn’t realize was that I’m far more dangerous than her ex-husband ever was.

I swerve to avoid a drunk man who nearly throws himself in front of the car.

On sleepless nights, I have a habit of driving around New Orleans after midnight—especially down Bourbon Street.

I own a chain of exclusive nightclubs, along with other businesses around the world, but deep down, this city is my home. Since I found out I was born here—and not in Kansas, as stated on my birth certificate—I’ve traveled the globe, only to always end up back in Louisiana.

A natural cynic, I’ve never thought of these late-night drives as sentimental. More like a habit. An escape from a mind that never rests.

But tonight, there’s a reason I came.

Aurellie told me that today marks the anniversary of my biological parents’ deaths, and every year on this date, I can’t sleep.

I need to close this chapter of my life.

It’s time to complete my revenge.

I’ve spent the past two years searching for the person who gave the order to have them killed, and once I found out who it was, only one man’s request [1] kept me from striking.

He’s the only one who knows everything about me. My mentor.

But now, he has to give me the green light. I can’t wait any longer.

Despite what my adoptive mother said, the plan to murder my family didn’t originate with Landon. He was just the means and the weapon. Maybe that’s why his death didn’t bring me the satisfaction I expected.

I’ve waited patiently, but now it’s time to call out the true mastermind and make him dance.

Dallas — Texas

One Month Later

“Is everything ready for the opening?” I ask Nolan, my assistant here in Texas, though I’m not really interested. Clubs don’t entertain me like they used to. It’s like a play you’ve seen performed so many times you know the script by heart.

Back when I started making serious money, they were a source of pleasure. I could watch people without having to interact and still get laid by the end of the night.

Now, they’re just places where I close deals. And tonight, I’m seriously questioning why I keep opening new ones around the world.

“Everything’s in place,” he says, placing a tablet in front of me. “Here’s the guest list. Everyone confirmed. We also have a waitlist, since per your instructions, not all members will be admitted tonight.”

My clubs don’t take walk-ins. Guests are vetted by a team and hand-selected. Having money isn’t nearly enough to get through the door; you have to meet very specific criteria. Rules designed to ensure that the people I actually want inside have the privacy to enjoy themselves.

And there’s plenty of adult entertainment behind the locked doors of every Hazard location, even though I’ve never taken part in any of it.

There’s one thing about human nature: people want what they can’t have. The waitlist for new members includes sheikhs, princes, and politicians.

There are strict rules. That’s why so many of them are rejected.

No minors, not as members or as guests. No drugs. No prostitution.

Beyond that, I leave it to the clients’ imagination.

I grab the tablet and skim the names. “Reed Gray, Dominika Wos, confirmed,” I say to myself.

“Yes, and Jaxson Gray and his adopted sister as well. The governor sent his regards but won’t be attending.”

I suppress a smirk. Hudson was never a member, nor were his brothers. My friendship with Jaxson started at one of my parties and extended to the rest of the Gray clan.

I scroll through the screen. “Make sure the Grays get VIP treatment.”

“Yes, sir. A note’s already been added to Mr. Jaxson’s name.”

“Where’s Roman?” I ask and immediately regret it. Nolan is terrified of my head of security, which tells me that despite his soft exterior, the kid’s instincts are sharp.

If it weren’t for our history, Roman wouldn’t be someone I’d want around.

“I don’t—” Nolan starts, but I cut him off with a gesture.

“It’s fine. You can go.”

He still hesitates. “Is tonight’s dinner still on, Mr. LeBlanc? Your date has called three times. She seems a little... anxious.”

I close my eyes for a second, trying to remember who it is, but nothing comes to mind. “Can you give me a name?”

He scrolls on the tablet. “Miss Analia Huntsman. She’s the daughter of—”

“I know who she is now. Send her a piece of jewelry and a card with my apologies. Cancel it.”

His face is unreadable—or so he thinks. I can read him perfectly.

Nolan can’t understand how I’d cancel on a woman like her.

He has no idea I was never interested in her delicate blonde beauty or her fake aura of innocence.

I never intended for our face-to-face interaction to go beyond dinner, just long enough to convince her mother to sell me some land she owns in Louisiana that I want for expansion.

But no business deal, no matter how profitable, is worth sitting through two hours with Analia.

Women who fake innocence kill any trace of desire in me. Ten minutes alone with her, and the sweet-girl act vanished. I could’ve bent her over the nearest table at that party we attended.

I’m all for women being honest about what they want, but I have zero tolerance for pretense. Didn’t take long to realize there’s nothing real about Analia.

“If she asks to reschedule . . .?”

“Tell her I’ll be busy for the next few months.”