Confess (Sin City Salvation #1) Read online

  CONFESS © 2018 A. Zavarelli

  Cover Design by Coverluv

  Photo by Depositphotos

  Interior Formatting by Champagne Book Design

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Playlist

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Chapter 71

  Chapter 72

  Chapter 73

  Chapter 74

  Chapter 75

  Chapter 76

  Chapter 77

  Chapter 78

  Chapter 79

  Chapter 80

  Chapter 81

  Chapter 82

  Chapter 83

  Chapter 84

  Chapter 85

  Chapter 86

  Chapter 87

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Books by A. Zavarelli

  About the Author

  American Money—BØRNS

  Ex’s and Oh’s—Elle King

  I Feel a Sin Comin’ On—Pistol Annies

  Hard Time—Seinabo Sey

  Blown Away—Carrie Underwood

  Somethin’ Bad—Miranda Lambert

  Next Boyfriend—Lauren Alaina

  Hell on Heels—Pistol Annies

  Tough—Kellie Pickler

  Little Good-Byes—SheDaisy

  River—Bishop Briggs

  Die Wild—Dia Frampton

  Burning House—Cam

  Wild Horses—Bishop Briggs

  Illuminate—WILDES

  Wicked Game—Ursine Vulpine

  Unlove You—Jennifer Nettles

  Didn’t You Know How Much I Loved You—Kellie Pickler

  Thirteen Sad Farewells—Stu Larsen

  Please Don’t Say You Love Me—Gabrielle Aplin

  Nothing Like Us—Justin Bieber

  Save Me—Nicki Minaj

  The Last Day on Earth—Kate Miller-Heidke

  This is Heartbreak—Key West

  Grave Digger—Blues Saraceno

  Is This Real—Lisa Hall

  Beauty from Pain—Superchick

  If You Ever Did Believe—Stevie Nicks

  Run on for a Long Time—Blues Saraceno

  Be My Devil—Extreme Music

  Slow Farewell—Raphael Lake

  Hero—Extreme Music

  In memory of Addison Baldwin

  “FORGIVE ME, FATHER, FOR I have sinned.”

  The shadow on the other side of the metal grate moved, and the priest cleared his throat. “How long has it been since your last confession?”

  I had a difficult time believing he didn’t know, but he always asked that same question.

  “Three weeks, give or take.”

  A moment of silence passed between us, and I wondered what he was thinking. I wasn’t well versed on the practices of the church, but from what little I knew, this circumstance we found ourselves in was out of the realm of normality for both of us. He was supposed to ask me questions, I was supposed to talk about my sins, and then I’d receive my punishment. But after my first visit here, that had never been the way it went down.

  “Speak freely,” the voice on the other side of the wood instructed.

  He was patient with me when I didn’t obey. As usual, I never knew where to begin.

  “Why don’t you tell me what brought you here,” he suggested.

  My fingers moved over the weathered wood bench beneath me. This building had always felt so vast. Too quiet and holy for the likes of me. But in this booth, I was safe. Anonymity granted me the freedom to confess to someone I couldn’t see.

  “Have you ever wished that something was a dream?” I asked.

  The reply was somber. “Every day of my life.”

  The gravity of his statement sounded like a confession, and I didn’t know what to do with it.

  “I just finished another job.” My hands wrung together in my lap. “Another con. It was a lot of money.”

  The wood from his seat creaked, and I imagined him shifting, trying to process what kind of monster I really was. “How did that make you feel?”

  “This isn’t about my feelings.”

  “Then what it is it about?”

  I closed my eyes, and the image came flooding back to me. My lungs burned. The landscape of my mouth turned to desert. I’d never said this part out loud before, but I needed to. Someone had to hear it.

  “My sister suggested we get ice cream to celebrate. We always celebrate after a job.” I tried to will the nausea in my stomach away as I spoke. “I couldn’t even remember the last time we had ice cream together, though. She got bubblegum, her favorite. And it… it triggered something.”

  “A memory?” the priest asked.

  “The day I got home from juvie, I found her in the kitchen eating ice cream. I’d been gone for six months, and every day, I was sick with fear for her. She was so small. So helpless.”

  I heard the priest swallow, and his voice was hoarse when he responded. “You thought it was your job to protect her?”

  “It was,” I assured him. “She had nobody else. And when I walked into the kitchen that day, for a split second, she was so happy to see me that I thought everything was going to be okay. I thought he’d kept his word, and she was okay.”

  “But she wasn’t?”

  I looked at the floor, clutching my stomach as I recalled her eyes. For as long as I lived, I would never f
orget what I saw there.

  “No,” I whispered. “I could see that something had changed.”

  “What was it?”

  “Her innocence,” I answered. “It was gone.”

  “HERE.” I SHOVED A FAT wad of twenties into the cabbie’s palm. “That’s half. I’ll give you double that if you’re here when I come back. Twenty minutes tops.”

  He glanced down at the stack of cash and shrugged. “No problem, lady.”

  I checked my lipstick in the mirror and swung open the door. It was a chore getting out of the cab in my fluffy white dress, but I made it work.

  Outside, New York City Hall was bustling with crowds rushing to their destinations, but they all paused to look at the woman scurrying down the sidewalk in a wedding dress and cowboy boots.

  I waved like a princess and even blew a few kisses to a pair of little girls with stars in their eyes. No doubt they were dreaming about their own wedding someday. Hopefully, theirs would turn out better than this one.

  A chivalrous stranger with dark eyes opened the door for me, and I thanked him while I rushed past, nearly colliding with my groom the moment I stepped inside.

  “Graham,” I squeaked.

  “Where have you been?” He glared. “You’re ten minutes late.”

  I bit my tongue and smiled. This was the most charming he’d been in the past two weeks, and it only solidified my decision to play him like a fiddle.

  “The bride is supposed to be late.” I offered him a wide smile. “It’s tradition.”

  “Nothing about this wedding is traditional,” he muttered.

  That wasn’t news to me. He couldn’t even spring for a cake or flowers, and he hadn’t invited a single family member to this shotgun wedding of ours. Yet he was deluded enough to believe I actually thought he loved me. The reality was that he was gunning for senator, and he needed to secure a wife for the upcoming political rallies. Family men were always more likable in the public eye.

  He checked his watch and gestured for me to put my arm in his. “Come on. We’re next in line.”

  I tagged along toward the courtroom where the magistrate was probably waiting. “This is all so romantic, but Graham, do you think I could have a word with you in private first? I have something I’d like to give you.”

  He glanced down at the envelope in my hand, his features tightening before he smoothed them with practiced civility. He would make a good politician.

  “Sure,” he said curtly. “But we’ll have to make it quick.”

  I nodded and tugged on his hand, leading him into an empty vestibule that was closed off to the public.

  “What are you doing?” He stared down the empty hall. “We can’t go in here; they’ll kick us out.”

  “Trust me,” I whispered. “You’ll want this to be private.”

  His face was a mask of irritation as he followed my lead and came to a stop around the corner. I looked up at him, mentally preparing to rip off my own mask. It was always best to do it like a Band-Aid.

  There was no love for me in his eyes, but even so, for a split second, I hesitated. I’d known Graham for three weeks, and in that time, he’d showered me with gifts and tokens of his appreciation. His appreciation for helping him to keep a secret he wasn’t even aware I knew. I was just the dumb baby fawn being led to slaughter in a marriage he’d never truly be happy with, but hoped he’d make work by pacifying me with money.

  In part, he was right about that. Because I needed the money. My little sister needed the money. I wanted to give her a better life, and I decided long ago that if fate wouldn’t give us our own opportunities, I would create them.

  I had to remember that when I looked at Graham, even if a small part of me hated what I was about to do. Sure, he was an asshole who thought he could buy me. I’d dealt with enough of them to know it wouldn’t break his heart when I walked away. He’d be wiser, and I’d be richer, and we’d both be winners in the end. But lately, I didn’t feel like a winner at all.

  “Come on.” Graham reached for the envelope in my hands. “We’re wasting time here. Is that for me?”

  His sharp words snapped me back to reality, and I narrowed my eyes. Rich men were all the same. They thought they could treat women like shit because they had fat wallets. And this was my reminder that it didn’t matter what I was going to do. Graham would pay the money to avoid the humiliation of a scandal, and it wouldn’t hurt him… much.

  I handed him the envelope that felt so dirty in my hands. “This is for you, my darling.”

  He didn’t spare me a second glance as he pulled out the contents of the evidence I’d gathered on him over the last three weeks. Sometimes this part of the game could be dramatic. I certainly never knew what I was going to find on a mark before I started researching him. One could only speculate, but even I wasn’t past being surprised on occasion. Everybody had a secret. And I was very good at exploiting them.

  “What in the hell is this?” The color drained from Graham’s face as he looked over the photos of him with his best friend’s wife. Those had been taken just three days ago, but there were plenty of others. Clandestine meetings in motel rooms and dark corners at dinner parties. It was all there. And it was an irrefutable fact that when he agreed to wait until after marriage to consummate, he was completely full of shit.

  “There are plenty more where those came from.” I dropped the Southern accent I’d been using since the night I’d met him. “As well as dates and times. Locations. They’re all stored in a digital file.”

  “You’re blackmailing me?” His eyes widened in disbelief. “You, the dumb blonde bimbo who’s been parading around on my arm for three weeks? How the fuck did you get this? Who sent you?”

  I pulled off my wig and shook out my hair with a smile. “Actually, I’m a brunette. And I’m a lot smarter than you give me credit for. I work alone, Graham.”

  The veins in his neck swelled, and his face mottled with red as he realized he’d just been played by the bimbo. “You know I’m a powerful man. How can you be sure I won’t just make you disappear?”

  “Because you don’t want even the scent of impropriety around you,” I answered. “The woman you were supposed to marry goes missing? It’s a problem you don’t need. Besides, I have fail-safes for such an event, and I can promise you that this information does not go missing with me. But you can make it all go away, Graham.”

  His eyes pinched together, penetrating me with the resentment he’d been hiding up until this point. “What do you want?”

  “One hundred thousand.”

  “You must be joking,” he seethed.

  “Do I look like I’m joking?”

  He turned away, curling his lip as his eyes fell to the picture in his hand. The lovers in the frame were lost in the throes of passion, disgracing the guest bedroom of his best friend’s summer house on the cape. I was there with him that night on the beach with his friends, regaling them with stories of my fake life. But when I snuck away and spotted them, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to snap the shot.

  As I watched him now, his feelings were written all over his face. He wouldn’t betray her. He couldn’t.

  “You love her,” I said, “don’t you?”

  He dragged a hand through his hair and stuffed the photos back into the envelope. “It doesn’t matter. You’ll get your money if that’s what you want. It’s done.”

  His answer was what I expected, but at the same time, it renewed my constant companion of hopelessness. This was a cruel world. A world where people would choose reputations over love. Dirty escapades over happiness. I never wanted to weave myself into that fabric of society again. Situations like this reminded me why it was better to be a loose thread, dangling in the wind.

  I didn’t know how to love men. I only knew how to leave them, with everything I wanted.

  “I’ll need it by five o clock today,” I told Graham.

  And then I walked away.

  “HOW ABOUT ANOTHER SHOT, CUTIE?
”

  The drunk college student drooling at her feet couldn’t take his eyes off her. Around the bar, a similar theme persisted. In the face of the jilted bride dancing on the bar to a country song, the entire male population of the little dive bar in Jersey had suddenly forgotten they had girlfriends or wives.

  I had to give the girl some credit. She knew how to captivate a crowd. Her sob story about the groom leaving her at the altar had earned her plenty of suitors who were ready and willing to be her Prince Charming this evening and soothe her aching heart. The wedding dress and boots were a nice touch too. She had them convinced she was a small-town Dixieland princess who was homegrown and fresh off the farm with that fake Southern accent.

  I’d been watching her play this game for two hours, and so far, she’d swindled several of her potential suitors out of a couple of grand by playing light with her fingers. Knowing that she’d just come from a large con, she wasn’t doing this because she needed to. She was indulging her reckless behavior because she wanted to get high on her favorite drug.

  Fucking over the men who would fuck her over if given the chance.

  In a bold move, she decided to try her luck at the pool table. But while her male counterpart might have had a dick, he also had a brain. And he didn’t take too kindly to her pretending she didn’t know how to play while they were placing bets only to come out and reveal herself as a shark halfway through.

  His voice was getting louder, and her taunts were tiptoeing the line of savagery.

  “You didn’t call the shot,” he said.

  She planted her hands on her hips and glared. “Yes, I did.”

  “No, you didn’t.” He pointed the pool stick in her direction. “Now I’m beginning to think you’re a lying bitch.”

  I didn’t come here with the intentions of stepping in, but at this point, I had no choice.

  “That’s because she is.” I moved in beside her and commandeered the stick in her hand. “But that’s still no way to talk to a lady.”

  “She ain’t a fuckin’ lady,” the guy snarled. “She’s a lyin’, cheatin’—”

  “Con artist,” I finished for him. “And she was trying to swindle you out of your money.”

  She peered up at me, and I removed some cash from my wallet, tossing it down on the table. “That should cover the inconvenience.”

  Shark gray eyes cut into me. “Who the hell are you?”