Sin (Sinclair O'Malley Book 1) Read online

  SIN

  BOOK ONE

  The Sinclair O’Malley Series

  J.M. LeDuc

  Also by J.M. LeDuc

  Trilogy of the Chosen

  Cursed Blessing

  Cursed Presence

  Cursed Days

  Short Stories

  Phantom Squad: The Beginning Trilogy of the Chosen

  Phantom Squad Series

  Cornerstone

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Text copyright © 2014 by J.M. LeDuc

  Originally published by Suspense Publishing

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by AmazonEncore, Seattle

  www.apub.com

  Amazon, the Amazon logo, and AmazonEncore are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

  eISBN: 9781477880432

  This title was previously published by Suspense Magazine; this version has been reproduced from Suspense Magazine archive files.

  DEDICATION

  When writing a story with a strong female protagonist, it only makes sense to dedicate it to the strong women in my life—three generations of them.

  To my daughter, Chelsea, your independent spirit and love for life makes me so proud to be your dad. Wherever life takes you, I know you will leave your mark. Follow your dream and never settle for second best.

  To my wife, Sherri, you are the rock (and roll) of my life. With a quiet strength, you lead by example, but you can be a hurricane of emotion when it’s appropriate. I am blessed to share my life with you.

  To my mother, Judy—the real J.M. LeDuc—your memory lives on in the hearts of all who knew you. Through your life, you taught me how to face every day with a smile and to have the courage to fight the unwinnable battles. I thank you for passing down your love of the written word, your values, and your ‘attitude.’ It may have skipped a generation, but it is in full bloom in your granddaughters, Chelsea and Lauren. You would be so proud.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I would be lost without the guidance of Shannon Raab. She is the backboard I get to throw ideas off of and the one who sees my work at its worst. Shannon, thank you for being so committed to your authors and for being the person you are. It isn’t said enough, but you are our hero!

  To Suspense Publishing, thank you for your commitment to your authors and for never giving in to publishing trends and fads.

  I would like to send a special acknowledgment out to all those who fight the battle against human trafficking. You save countless lives on a daily basis, yet you go unnamed and don’t look for accolades. Thank you, and may God bless you for all you do.

  PRAISE FOR J.M. LEDUC

  “J. M LeDuc has written an action-packed sizzler of a novel with “Sin,” kicking off a new series that introduces readers to the “beautiful and bodacious” FBI agent Sinclair O’Malley. From the second she roars up to a colleague’s funeral on her vintage Harley, it is clear that the people who have been killing fellow agents and murdering young girls are in for trouble. Sin’s return to her home turf on Tumbleboat Key will pack more power than a hurricane roaring up the Florida coast as she cuts a swath through the most evil cast of villains you’d never want to meet. Fast-paced and pulsating with energy. LeDuc has a winner with “Sin.” What a woman!”

  —Paul Kemprecos, #1 New York Times bestselling author of “Grey Lady”

  “J.M. Leduc’s “Sin” is a bone-chilling tale that’s as cautionary as it is timely. This blistering thriller brilliantly re-imagines the Florida of James W. Hall and John D. McDonald, serving up a powerful female protagonist who’s every bit a match for the low-lifes and corrupt power mongers who stretch all the way to the unfriendliest part of Central America. The title represents a double-entendre all onto itself, just one of the many highlights of a book chock full of them. “Sin” is a seminal tale sure to stay with you long after the final page is flipped and make you long for the next entry in what is sure to be a stellar series.”

  —Jon Land, bestselling author of “The Tenth Circle”

  “ “Sin” is a fast-paced, action-packed suspense novel that you won’t be able to put down. J.M. LeDuc offers up a wonderful story with a cast of characters and a roller coaster plot that will keep you on the edge of your seat. Highly recommended.”

  —Joseph Badal, award-winning author of “The Lone Wolf Agenda”

  “ “Sin” has all the things you love about films like The Expendables, with none of the cheese. Just the testosterone, clever banter, huge explosions, and one badass chick on a cool hog, kicking butt and taking names. LeDuc has crafted a great mystery/thriller, with numerous twists and turns, as well as including his typical attention to the kinder side of the human spirit in Sinclair O’Malley’s reunion with her estranged father.”

  —Kane Gilmour, bestselling author of “Ragnarok” and “Resurrect”

  “Sinclair O’Malley is equal parts sass and guts. With “Sin,” LeDuc has crafted a bold new character for a promising series.”

  —Jeremy Robinson, bestselling author of

  “XOM-B” and “Island 731”

  “This is a thriller you don’t want to miss. LeDuc has shown he’s on top of his game with some of his best writing. I won’t be missing the rest of this new series!”

  —Starr Gardinier Reina, author of “The Other Side: Melinda’s Story”

  SIN

  Sinclair O’Malley Series: Book One

  J.M. LeDuc

  Contents

  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

  Painted Beauty

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  CHAPTER 1

  The smells of the fish pier permeated Alex Bell’s olfactory senses as he stepped out of the black sedan: salt, suntan oil, diesel fuel, and the fresh catch of the day. If he inhaled deep enough, he could almost smell something else—death. His eyes darted back and forth, quick to survey his surroundings. He walked toward the beach and could hear the sound of the sand crunch under his black wingtips. The seagulls and palm trees gave the illusion of tranquility. Everything he smelled, heard, and saw should have brought back fond memories of his childhood, but they didn’t. Approaching the yellow crime scene tape, he knew his memories of the Florida Keys had been washed away for good—washed away by the death of three of his best agents.

  The local police chief stood just on the other side of the crime tape. Alex pulled his credentials out of the inner pocket of his suit coat and flashed them toward the chief. The large man briefly glanced at the badge, took the well-chewed toothpick out of his mouth, and slid his mirror-lensed imitation Ray Bans down his reddened, bulbous nose.

  “I’m Special Agent Alex Bell. I would appreciate it if you could give me a few minutes.”

  The chief yanked a ratty handkerchief from the pocket of his polyester pants and wiped the sweat from his furrowed brow. With a sigh of what looked like exasperation, he tapped his nametag with a nicotine stained finger—it read, Ezekiel Miller.

  Miller eyed Alex and said, “Federal Bureau of Investee-gation, huh?” He looked around at the small town fishing pier. “You boys must be slow. Guess you must of caught all them bathrobe wearin’ sand niggers that bombed the good ole U.S. of A.?”

  Internally, the police chief’s language or lack of it scratched Alex’s conscience like nails on a chalkboard. Externally, his appearance didn’t change one iota. He slipped his badge back inside his jacket and continued to stare at the pear-shaped, potty-mouthed, star-wearing inbred.

  Alex lifted the crime tape and stood close enough to the sheriff to tell what shade of gray his ‘white’ tee-shirt was. “One of the things we’re taught during our training is to multitask,” he said.

  Chief Miller cocked his head to the side like a confused hound dog.

  “You know,” Alex continued, “like being able to eat fried foods and smoke cigarettes at the same time. That sort of thing.”

  Miller tossed the toothpick on the ground and popped a new one in his mouth. He poked Alex in the chest with his finger. “You makin’ fun of me?”

  Alex glanced down at the sheriff’s finger and back up to his sunburned face. “Before things get out of hand, let’s get three things straight.” He held up one finger. “I want to be here as much as you want me here, so the sooner you can answer my questions, the sooner we can end this ‘friendship.’ Two,” another finger went up, “I’m here because three men have washed up on the shore of your little hamlet. All dead and . . .”

  “We can’t help it when tourists try to go fishin’ in bad weather and capsize their boat.”

  Still holding up his two fingers, Alex was beginning to lose his cool. “They didn’t drown, asshole; they had been drugged and shot in the back of their heads from close range.”

  Miller moved the toothpick from the left side of his mouth to the right using his tongue. “Them bodies just washed up yesterday, how you know all that?”

  “It’s called forensics. Now, what I would really like is for you to show me exactly where you found the bodies and then I want you to take me to where their boat was impounded.”

  “Wait,” Miller smirked, holding up two of his own fingers, “that’s only two, what’s number three or did you miscount?”

  Alex removed his sunglasses and snarled at the sheriff. “Three, you ever poke me again or touch me in any fashion, I will rip your finger off and shove it so far up your ass, it will take you a month to shit it back out.”

  He didn’t wait for a response, just turned toward the water and walked towards the CSI officers.

  CHAPTER 2

  Ten days later

  The funeral service was well underway when the minister was interrupted by the deep rumbling of a motorcycle’s exhaust. As it neared the gravesite, a few mourners shook their heads, and a few others stifled a grin.

  Frank Graham, the director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation kept his head down, but peered over his shades at the rider as she killed the engine of her 1952 Harley Davidson Panhead. The late morning sun reflected off of the bike’s white pearlescent paint and onto her mirror-lensed sunglasses as she swung her leg off the saddle. She stood next to her bike, removed the rubber band holding her ponytail, and shook out her long, raven colored hair. Arching her back to stretch, her curves caught everyone’s eyes.

  A voice chirped in his earpiece. “She’s headed your way.”

  The preacher looked back down at the good book and finished reading from Psalms 23. Finished, he closed the Bible and looked around at the hundreds of people who were gathered. “Even though Alex didn’t have any living blood relatives, I would be remiss by saying he had no family.” He spread his arms at the sea of humanity. “His family is here paying tribute to his life and mourning his passing.”

  When the service was over, the dark haired biker walked toward the casket, removed the black glove from her right hand, and wiped the tears that ran down her cheeks. With a tenderness that was antithetical to her demeanor, she placed a white rose on the mahogany coffer.

  “We haven’t had much chance to talk in the past few years,” she mumbled to herself as she stood over the casket, “but I’m going to miss you.” Once again, she wiped the tears as they streamed faster down her tanned skin. “You were my hero,” she mumbled. Her eyes darted right and left, glancing at all the polished wingtips in her peripheral vision. “All that was good and right about the bureau.”

  She composed herself, pulled her sunglasses down over her eyes, stood, and turned from the gravesite and faced her past.

  “I’m surprised to see you here, Agent O’Malley.”

  She eyed the man from top to bottom and back again. “Nice suit. Did Men in Black have a wardrobe giveaway?”

  She replaced her glasses and attempted to leave. She didn’t get ten feet before ‘clones’ of the first blocked her path.

  “Is this the game we’re gonna play, Frank?” she asked.

  “This isn’t a game, Agent. I need you to come in and I’m willing to do what is necessary to make that happen.”

  Sinclair O’Malley stood eye-to-eye with Frank Graham, ripped her glasses off and burned a death-stare into his flesh. “I’m no longer an employee of the bureau or the United States, so cut the bull with the agent crap.”

  Graham didn’t blink, he just smirked. “You left us no choice, Sin. You broke every directive you were given. You went so far outside the system, you’re lucky you weren’t brought up on charges.”

  Her jade green eyes pierced Graham’s shell. “What’s with the ‘us’ shit? It was your testimony that put the nail in my coffin.” She snapped her head toward the other agents. “In fact, Alex Bell was the only man with enough balls to stand by me. The rest of you empty-sack bastards can go to hell.” She again addressed Frank Graham. “I came to pay my respects to the only man worthy of them. Now if you will excuse me, I’ll be on my way.”

  “It’s not that easy, O’Malley,” Graham said. “We have unfinished business and I need to take you in.”

  Sin took a step toward her bike. Again the agents moved in, each with their hand on the
grip of their holstered weapons.

  “That’s not a card you want to play, Frank,” she said. “Do you think I would just show up alone?”

  Graham snickered as he stepped closer to Sin. “We have this cemetery surrounded. You have nobody.”

  The left side of Sin’s full lips turned upward as she returned the snicker. “You want to roll the dice on that one?”

  Graham pushed a button on his jacket. “Any sign of hostiles?”

  “Negative,” came the voice in his earpiece.

  Sin stepped toward her ex-boss.

  He could smell her perfume mixed with sweat. The aroma, seductive and evil, drained the color from his face. He closed his eyes, scrunched his nose, and exhaled through his nostrils.

  “We can both piss into the wind,” Sin said, “you can let me walk out of here, or you can tell me what this little show is really about . . .” Frank opened his mouth to speak, but Sin continued, “because we both know you have nothing on me.”

  Sin shouldered her way past the other agents and began to straddle her bike. Graham stood, wide-stanced, and placed his hands on the handlebars. Sin settled into her seat, crossed her arms across her chest and waited. Her eyebrows went up and her head cocked to the side.

  Frank dropped his head and shook it from side to side. “I want you to come back in,” he mumbled.

  Sin pulled on her earlobe with a well-manicured painted nail. “What was that? I don’t think I heard you correctly.”

  He looked straight at her. “You heard me.”

  Sin leaned forward and kick-started her Harley.

  “Damn you, Sin!” Frank yelled over the growl of the bike. “Turn that fucking thing off.”

  She tapped her gearshift with the toe of her left boot and began to let out the clutch.