Page 39 of Deadly Sins

23Ksenya

AUTUMN PICKED ME UP IN the morning to drive to Temecula—a small town an hour north of San Diego. My hands trembled as she handed over a coffee she’d picked up for me at Starbucks.

Tiffany. After all this time, I would get a glimpse into the life of the woman my brother was accused of murdering.

Autumn’s car sped north on the freeway. “Thanks for coming with. Most of the other Russian girls I’ve met were like super stuck-up, but you’re not. I feel like I know you.”

“You are very welcome. I’m from the Ukraine, not Russia.”

She tapped her fingernails on the steering wheel. “Right, I know. Eastern Europe, I mean. So why did you start dancing?”

God, this girl needed a friend. She oozed loneliness. “I live with my grandmother. She died, and I pay the bills. My English, it is not so good. I am ballroom dancer. Now, I dance for men. Why are you dancer for men?”

She let out a sigh. “Wow. Your story is way cooler than mine. I was a fuckup in high school, dropped out. I started dating this guy Jeff—real jerk, loser, used to hit me.” She looked away from me, the color draining from her face.

Poor girl. I used to always lecture Grant that most strippers were abuse survivors. Or plain bat-shit crazy—I clearly fell into the latter category. Some mornings I woke up completely shocked that I’d actually gone through with this crazy plan.

“Anyway, he told me I could make good money at Panthers, so I tried it out. Him and me broke up and all. One day, I want to go to beauty school. But for now, I like dancing. I mean, I meet super interesting people. Like you…and Grant. You know he’s a SEAL, right?”

Yup. Painfully aware. I was the girl who’d given him massages, prepared Epsom salt baths for him, and bandaged his feet every night for six months during BUD/S. “He told to me.” I paused, an ache growing in my throat. This girl was clearly still hung up on Grant, and here I was mind-fucking him, no hope of being serious again because I was lying about who I was. Using him for information. But I didn’t have a choice anymore—I was in too deep. I needed him now.

“Don’t worry. I’m not like in love with him or anything,” she said playfully like she could read my mind. “I just think he’s super-hot, and it’s so cool that he’s a SEAL. I’d love to be with a guy who could protect me, you know? Maybe you can hook me up with one of his friends?”

“Sure. I invite you to next party.” I really liked her. I had learned since I’d started this experiment that I needed to be less judgmental. Autumn was a sweet girl. She deserved love.

We exited the freeway and took the back roads. The view of the mountains and the vineyards calmed my nerves. For this ride, I felt connected to life. Even Autumn’s chatter didn’t seem to disturb my peace. I was happy to live in this moment, no thought of my past or future.

We pulled up to a small tract house just outside of Temecula, in Winchester. The neighborhood sported matching homes, uniform lawns, and wide sidewalks. Just a few years ago, this town had been wrecked with foreclosures. It was nice to see that it was beginning to recover.

An older woman, silver hair streaked with black, a saddened glaze in her eyes, opened the door, a small boy with a dark mop of hair clutching her leg.

When the toddler’s face came into focus, I gasped.

He had a small cleft on his chin and full lips.

But that wasn’t what made me breathless.

It was his eyes.

His eyes—deep hazel eyes with mile-long lashes.

Eyes that were so familiar, I was certain I was looking into a mirror.

The heat in my body rose. No. It couldn’t be.

A horrible thought flashed through my head like this boy was a ghost or a zombie.

Fuck, Mia, you’re losing it.

I took a deep breath and said a prayer, trying to calm myself down. Who was this little boy? Was he Tiffany’s son? There was no mention of a child in her obituary. This boy was around two years old—when he was conceived, Joaquín would’ve just returned from deployment. But my brother had told me he’d never met Tiffany before that night.

Had he been lying to me?

This boy’s eyes looked exactly like my dad’s—almond-shaped, long lashes, a slight slant on the left eyelid.

My mouth became dry. This couldn’t just be some random coincidence.

The boy walked forward, his gaze focused on me. Autumn embraced Tiffany’s mother.