Sacrificial Muse (A Sabrina Vaughn Novel) by Maegan Beaumont

Or how about, I’m sorry I got your grandmother killed. He knew what he wanted to say to her. He wanted to tell her he loved her. Make promises he couldn’t keep. Make plans they both knew would never take hold.
    He’d been a selfish bastard most of his life. This was one thing he was going to do right. He was going to let Sabrina go. Even if it killed him.
    He’d recently been thrown down a flight of stairs and bounced out of a second-story window—the only thing that kept him from serious injury was the dead guy he’d landed on top of.
    And Livingston Shaw was concerned about his heart rate?
    The door opened. Michael watched as his partner crossed the room into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Ben pulled out a beer and waved it in his direction. “Want one?”
    “No.” He watched as Ben used the edge of the granite countertop to pop the cap off and took a long pull from the bottle of Stella. Most FSS operatives bunked down in the fifth-floor barracks while they were in rotation, but not Ben. FSS had headquarters in six different countries, and Benjamin Shaw had penthouse digs in each and every one of them. The perks of being the boss’s kid. As his partner, Michael was expected to stay with him. Eight months of partnership and he was still unable to figure out who was babysitting whom.
    Ben threw himself into a chair and took another drink. “How’s your arm?”
    Michael twisted his bicep around to get a good look at the stitches. “Fine.” He picked up his shirt and pulled it on, ignoring the snags and pulls of the fabric against the road rash on his back. “Who was on the phone?”
    “Did you tell Nurse Ratched you got thrown out a window?” Ben asked. He was avoiding the question—classic behavior for his partner.
    Michael crossed his arms over his chest and stared the kid down. “Who was on the phone?” he said again. The skin along the back of his neck went tight, like it did when he was on a job and shit was about to go sideways.
    Ben just shrugged. “No one. Just one of my contacts in need of course correction,” Ben said before he smiled. “Sometimes blackmail and coercion aren’t enough to keep them in line.”
    Michael was suddenly reminded of the debt he owed his partner. That it’d been Ben who made it possible for him to get back to Sabrina in time to save her. Without his partner’s intervention, she would’ve bled to death. Ben never threatened him, never even mentioned the fact that all it would take was one word from him to his father to end Sabrina’s life, but Michael knew he was capable of just about anything to get what he wanted.
    Like father, like son.
    “You got plans for your thirty?” Ben said, changing the subject. It was the same question he asked every time they cycled out of rotation and his answer never changed.
    “Not a goddamn one.” He dropped his arms from his chest. Some FSS operatives had lives away from the death and violence they were paid to perpetrate for the highest bidder. Not Michael. He didn’t have anyone. Everyone he loved was either dead or better off without him.
    “We could do Vegas again.” Ben waggled his eyebrows at him. “Ladies love the Hugh Hefner Sky Villa.”
    Michael let out a short laugh. “Last time I checked, ladies didn’t take American Express.”
    “They weren’t hookers—they were strippers. Huge difference,” Ben said in mock solemnity. “Seriously, what are you gonna do for an entire month without me? Stay here? Wait for our next assignment?”
    A year ago he would’ve gone home to Jessup and stayed with Lucy. Worked on the classic car that’d been up on blocks since his father died. Eaten lemon pound cake until his stomach hurt and dream about the day he’d find the man who murdered Frankie.
    That was all over now. Lucy was dead and so was the man who killed her and his sister both. The one place he wanted to go, the one person he wanted to be with, was Sabrina. There was no one else for him, and it was