Read Online Sins of the Flesh by Caridad Piñeiro - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Caridad Piñeiro
Tags: FIC027120
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Harrison Edgar Williams. He had always found the supposedly brilliant surgeon to be rather pompous and slow-witted. No match for his smart andeffervescent baby sister who deserved much better, as far as Mick was concerned.
Why would Lil put up with such treatment? he thought, gazing at Caterina. Another seemingly smart and capable woman who had been overpowered. Trapped by a system in which she had once had faith.
Did Lil feel the same way? Did she consider herself imprisoned by who she was at the hospital—a newbie resident? One who couldn’t challenge an older, better-established surgeon like Harrison?
Mick was going to find out what was happening with Lil and put an end to it, much like he intended to do with Caterina.
No, not Caterina. Shaw. He should start calling her Shaw. He needed to create distance because she was rousing emotions in him that would only complicate the assignment.
Shaw was his target. Just another job.
He couldn’t let sympathy for Shaw and admiration for the strength she had shown during her illness get in the way of the missionhe had been paid to complete.
How about justice
? the voice in his head challenged. Could he let justice get in the way?
He flipped away from Shaw’s image to one of the front door. All quiet and dark in the dead of early morning. Dead as he would be if he didn’t get some rest, too. He had to stay sharp for what he needed to do tomorrow.
Mick walked out of his office, past Shaw’s room, and stopped at the door to his bedroom. The large king-sized bed called to him, but he glanced back at the room holding his captive.
With a muttered curse, he tore off the black knit Henley he had been wearing, which still bore scattered traces of Shaw’s oddball blood. He whipped the two guns from the spot where he had tucked them into the gap at the small of his back and tossed them on his comforter. His jeans soon followed, but fell from the bed and landed in a heap on the floor.
In the master bath, he washed up, removing all traces of Shaw from his hands and arms, then returned to his room to slip into comfortable sweats.
He retrieved the two guns from the surface of the bed, placed them on the nightstand beside him, and lay down on the comforter.
Just a few hours’ nap before he got back to work.
Sleep eluded him, however, as images of Shaw’s and Lil’s bruises juxtaposed themselves in his brain.
Giving up hope of sleep after about an hour, he rose, slipped the two guns beneath the waistband of his sweats, dragged the comforter off his bed and stalked to Shaw’s room.
A comfortable overstuffed chair and ottoman were tucked invitingly in a far corner of the bedroom. It was his mother’s handiwork when she had helped him decorate this house, hoping that its purchase was a sign that he intended to settle down into a more sedate life. Maybe even take up his cousin Ramon’s offer of a spot on the local police force.
His mother had been sadly mistaken, Mick thought as he dropped the comforter at the door and walked to the chair and ottoman. He dragged them to the side of the bed where he could keep an eye on Shaw, as well as on the stairs and bedroom door.
Once the chair was in place, he picked up the comforter,settled himself into the welcoming cushions, and propped his feet up on the ottoman. For good measure, he removed the guns from his waistband and tucked them into the gap between the cushions and seat of the comfy chair. Within easy reach.
He leaned his head back and closed his eyes to shut out the soft light cast by the table lamp beside the bed. Lil had replaced the linen ivory shade and turned it to a low setting. Listening to the measured cadence of Shaw’s breathing, Mick let it lull him into a light sleep.
He walked past the rooms the way a zookeeper might, checking his charges in the early morning hours to make sure they were properly locked away in their cells.
When he reached the last room, he paused and glared at the empty bed through the
Why would Lil put up with such treatment? he thought, gazing at Caterina. Another seemingly smart and capable woman who had been overpowered. Trapped by a system in which she had once had faith.
Did Lil feel the same way? Did she consider herself imprisoned by who she was at the hospital—a newbie resident? One who couldn’t challenge an older, better-established surgeon like Harrison?
Mick was going to find out what was happening with Lil and put an end to it, much like he intended to do with Caterina.
No, not Caterina. Shaw. He should start calling her Shaw. He needed to create distance because she was rousing emotions in him that would only complicate the assignment.
Shaw was his target. Just another job.
He couldn’t let sympathy for Shaw and admiration for the strength she had shown during her illness get in the way of the missionhe had been paid to complete.
How about justice
? the voice in his head challenged. Could he let justice get in the way?
He flipped away from Shaw’s image to one of the front door. All quiet and dark in the dead of early morning. Dead as he would be if he didn’t get some rest, too. He had to stay sharp for what he needed to do tomorrow.
Mick walked out of his office, past Shaw’s room, and stopped at the door to his bedroom. The large king-sized bed called to him, but he glanced back at the room holding his captive.
With a muttered curse, he tore off the black knit Henley he had been wearing, which still bore scattered traces of Shaw’s oddball blood. He whipped the two guns from the spot where he had tucked them into the gap at the small of his back and tossed them on his comforter. His jeans soon followed, but fell from the bed and landed in a heap on the floor.
In the master bath, he washed up, removing all traces of Shaw from his hands and arms, then returned to his room to slip into comfortable sweats.
He retrieved the two guns from the surface of the bed, placed them on the nightstand beside him, and lay down on the comforter.
Just a few hours’ nap before he got back to work.
Sleep eluded him, however, as images of Shaw’s and Lil’s bruises juxtaposed themselves in his brain.
Giving up hope of sleep after about an hour, he rose, slipped the two guns beneath the waistband of his sweats, dragged the comforter off his bed and stalked to Shaw’s room.
A comfortable overstuffed chair and ottoman were tucked invitingly in a far corner of the bedroom. It was his mother’s handiwork when she had helped him decorate this house, hoping that its purchase was a sign that he intended to settle down into a more sedate life. Maybe even take up his cousin Ramon’s offer of a spot on the local police force.
His mother had been sadly mistaken, Mick thought as he dropped the comforter at the door and walked to the chair and ottoman. He dragged them to the side of the bed where he could keep an eye on Shaw, as well as on the stairs and bedroom door.
Once the chair was in place, he picked up the comforter,settled himself into the welcoming cushions, and propped his feet up on the ottoman. For good measure, he removed the guns from his waistband and tucked them into the gap between the cushions and seat of the comfy chair. Within easy reach.
He leaned his head back and closed his eyes to shut out the soft light cast by the table lamp beside the bed. Lil had replaced the linen ivory shade and turned it to a low setting. Listening to the measured cadence of Shaw’s breathing, Mick let it lull him into a light sleep.
He walked past the rooms the way a zookeeper might, checking his charges in the early morning hours to make sure they were properly locked away in their cells.
When he reached the last room, he paused and glared at the empty bed through the
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