Page 1 of Deadly Sins

1

Mia

THE PRISON GUARD LED ME down the hall to the waiting room. A pregnant girl cowered in the corner, an older couple embraced each other, and a pale, skinny woman bit her nails as a young boy fidgeted on her lap. The rancid smell of vomit loosely masked with bleach made me gag. This scene was so pathetic. We were all here to see our loved ones incarcerated in this hellhole.

“Your boyfriend will be out in ten minutes,” the guard sneered, his eyes undressing me.

“He’s not my boyfriend; he’s my brother. And he’s innocent.”

The guard laughed and wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead. “Sure, he is, sweetheart. Never met a guilty one.”

Jerk. That guard wasn’t fit to polish Joaquín’s boots.

After an agonizing wait, the prisoners stumbled out into their partitioned section of the room. My brother came last.

All my girlfriends were in love with Joaquín—who could blame them? Even in this pit of despair, he still looked like the ultimate alpha male. His muscles bulged in his orange prison jumpsuit, the elbow-length sleeves barely covering his tattoos.

At least I didn’t have to worry about anyone screwing with him in jail; he could kill a man with his bare hands.

Joaquín had everything going for him. Until he was charged with a crime he didn’t commit. I knew my brother, and he simply couldn’t be guilty of what he was accused of doing.

Joaquín was an easy target—a poor Mexican American orphan with no trust fund, no senator endorsements, and no college education. But my brother had integrity, loyalty, and honor. He would never disgrace his Teammates, betray his country, or destroy his brotherhood. And he could never hurt a woman.

He tapped on the glass, and we both reached for the phone. “Thanks for flying down, Mia. Are you okay?”

I threw my free hand in the air. “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m not the one in jail facing the death penalty for murder. I took the first flight I could get. What the hell happened?”

The man on the other side of the glass wasn’t the brother I’d grown to respect and adore. He was still strong, still resolute, and seemingly impenetrable. But his eyes…I looked right into his eyes. Though his long dark lashes covered his pain, I knew him too well. To anyone else, he would seem formidable, but to his baby sister, he looked broken, torn.

“I didn’t kill her. I can’t talk about what happened in here.” His eyebrows motioned toward the cameras in the corner of the room. “But you have to believe me.”

I swallowed. I’d watched the incessant news coverage. It didn’t look good.

Two weeks ago, one of Joaquín’s commanding officers, Paul Thompson, had thrown a huge party for his SEAL Teammates at his parents’ oceanfront home in Encinitas. Witnesses interviewed by the police said they heard loud music and saw women coming in and out of the place. Guess the neighbors weren’t exactly going to call the cops on a group of SEALs.

In the early hours of the morning after the party, Joaquín had discovered a lifeless stripper named Tiffany in his bed. He called 911, and the paramedics determined that she’d been dead for hours. Joaquín told detectives that he’d slept with her the night before, but that she had been fine when he fell asleep. The police didn’t charge him immediately and waited for the autopsy results.

Two days ago, the coroner ruled that she’d died from asphyxiation and had the date-rape drug Rohypnol in her system. Since Joaquín had admitted to having sex with her, he had been arrested and charged with her murder.

He already said he didn’t kill her. He would never lie to me, and we kept no secrets from each other. Well…we never used to. I’ve held my own deep secret close, never wanting to add any burden to Joaquín’s intense life.

“Can anyone clear you? Are the other guys on the Team trying to help, or did they desert you? What about Grant…” My voice trailed off.

My ex-boyfriend, Grant Carrion, Joaquín’s swim buddy in BUD/S, had been there that night. And I knew the rest of the guys on their Team pretty well. After our parents had died, Joaquín had become my legal guardian, and I’d moved to San Diego to live with him and finish my senior year in high school. I met Grant right before I graduated, and we started dating at the beginning of my freshman year at San Diego State. I’d transferred to San Francisco State as a junior two years ago because it had the best drama department.

Well, that was the official excuse for me fleeing—I could’ve finished school in San Diego. The reality was much more painful. Too painful for me to think about, let alone deal with.

Joaquín pursed his lips; his eyes leveled me. “Leave Grant out of this. I will not ruin his career, too. I slept with Tiffany, but I didn’t drug her. None of the guys are talking to me right now, probably under orders from the command. Our Team doesn’t need this publicity, especially with all the rumors going around about Pat saving Annie from that brothel. My brothers don’t have a choice but to obey. My lawyer thinks I should take a plea. If it’s the best for the Team, and you, then I will.”

I seethed. The public should still be happy that Joaquín’s Team had just saved a group of USO cheerleaders who had been taken as hostages in Afghanistan. I didn’t even know what to say about the Pat and Annie mess, except that I wasn’t buying the Team’s cover story.

“Take a plea? Have you lost your mind? You’re gonna confess to murder because that’s best for your Team? Who cares about your damn Team! Can’t you be selfish for once in your life?” I knew the bonds of these SEALs ran deep; they’d kill for each other; they’d die for each other. I couldn’t fathom the pain Joaquín had to be going through, but pleading guilty to a murder he didn’t commit was insane.

He blinked hard, too hard, as if he was trying to stop tears from escaping. “You don’t understand. You never could. I’m not going to ruin the rest of the guys’ lives and tarnish our Team’s reputation further. It’s complicated, and I really can’t talk about it.”

I didn’t want to hear about his Team loyalty. “Who’s your lawyer? Is he any good?”

“Daniel Reed. He’s a former Team guy.”