Sins of the Father (Wilde Love Book 2) Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  CHAPTER ONE Keegan Tries. He Really Does.

  CHAPTER TWO Jon Is in Over His Head

  CHAPTER THREE Keegan's Rude Awakening

  CHAPTER FOUR Jon Has an Epiphany

  CHAPTER FIVE Keegan Is Not Romeo

  CHAPTER SIX Jon Breaks the Rules

  CHAPTER SEVEN Keegan Is Too Sexy

  CHAPTER EIGHT Jon Isn't Impressed

  CHAPTER NINE Keegan Really Hates Doctors

  CHAPTER TEN Jon to the Rescue

  CHAPTER ELEVEN Keegan's Safety Net

  CHAPTER TWELVE Jon Confesses His Crimes

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN Keegan and the Black Bean Burger

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN Jon Sings the Body Electric

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN Keegan Finally Gets It

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN Jon Gets a Shovel

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN Keegan Isn't a Killer

  Mailing List Signup

  Strike up the Band - preview

  About the Author

  SINS OF THE FATHER

  SAM BURNS

  Copyright © 2017 by Sam Burns.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Content Warning: this book is intended for adult audiences only, and contains violence, swearing, and graphic sex scenes.

  Cover art © 2017 by Natasha Snow at natashasnow.com

  Editing by Madeline Farlow at clause-effect.com

  For more information click or visit:

  Burnswrites.com

  For Ms. Bright, the first person who ever told me to keep writing.

  And for Mr. Burns, always.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Keegan Tries. He Really Does.

  “I am not eating that,” Keegan said, unable to look away from the rainbow-colored mess that had just been set in front of him. Brigit Larson had been working for him for nearly five years, and in that time, she’d talked him into eating dozens of questionable things, from rattlesnake to a scallop-stuffed sole that had nearly killed him. Not this time. He drew the line at glitter. “It looks like a unicorn threw up on a cheesecake.”

  She threw her hands in the air. “It’s our Pride special, Key, what do you want it to look like? Black cheesecake with a side of blood orange sauce? You wanna go full dark for Pride? Come on, think of the fun!” When his response was a cocked eyebrow, she sighed. “Okay fine, think about the money.”

  Actually, he was thinking about escape, and stared longingly at the hallway that led to his office. It was only a few dozen feet away. Maybe she wouldn’t notice if he—

  Brigit moved to stand between him and the hall. “Keegan. Chef Drew needs you to okay all menu items, even if we’re only going to serve them for a month. Eat the damn cheesecake.” Suddenly, her head popped up like a prairie dog in a nature documentary, and she looked toward the front door. “Customers. I’ll be back. And that cheesecake better be in your stomach when I get here.”

  He stared down at the plate as though it had personally wronged him. He really wasn’t a rainbows-and-glitter kind of guy.

  He got it—Pride was great, both the concept and the event. And boy, was Chef Drew all about it. The restaurant threw a big thing every year because, well, why not? Keegan was gay, Drew was gay, almost half the waitstaff were gay, bi, or ace. They had every reason to be proud.

  Brigit, the straightest girl to have ever lived, seemed more excited about Pride than anyone. She was his best friend, but it still blew his mind that she was so invested in something that didn’t affect her. Maybe she just wanted her kid to grow up in a better world, but he had an uncomfortable suspicion that this was going to turn into another one of her set-up attempts.

  “That looks like something from a six-year-old’s birthday party. Where’s your shiny hat?” came a voice from above him. Keegan lifted his head.

  It was Owen, of course. Keegan’s kid brother always found himself far more amusing than anyone else did. Kid had all the sense of humor of a dry, dusty rock.

  “It’s for Pride,” he said stubbornly, cutting off a piece and stuffing it into his mouth.

  He froze.

  It was amazing. Chef Drew was the mad genius behind the best thing that had happened to cheesecake in the history of cheesecake. Maybe the best thing to happen to dessert, period. It was life altering. Keegan stared down at the ethereally glittering slice and thought he might actually be able to get behind this absurdity.

  “Are you jizzing in your pants over cheesecake, Keegan? God, you’re such a stereotype.” Owen dropped down next to him with a thud. It sounded as though he’d thrown all of his weight into the motion. The cushion of the half-moon booth gave a hiss as it sank with the weight. “Why do I even come to you for help?”

  Keegan ignored him for a moment in favor of the cheesecake. “At least you don’t talk back and insult my life choices,” he murmured fondly.

  “Seriously?” Owen asked. “I come to my big bro for advice, and this is what I get? A conversation with a big, gay cheesecake?”

  Brigit was leading a couple to a nearby table, and both of them stopped and stared at Owen for a long moment. He didn’t even seem to notice. It was like people’s reactions meant nothing to him. Keegan sometimes wished he could be so unfazed.

  “Okay,” Keegan said, sliding the cheesecake toward the middle of the table. “You came for advice. Sounds like bull to me, but I’ll bite. What is it?”

  Owen turned serious, and Keegan took notice. His brother was serious by nature, but his moods didn’t usually turn on a dime like that unless he was angry with their father. That seemed to happen more often as Owen got older. A little clash was inevitable, given the circumstances.

  Owen was in his third year at the University of Chicago, studying criminal justice, and their father was a mob boss. Dad was proud that Owen was in college—he was the first Quinn to do it—but criminal justice? Couldn’t he find a better path, like business, religion, or, hell, art?

  Keegan realized that Owen had been silent for a long moment, and cocked his head. “Can’t be that bad, can it? Girls coming onto you again? Dad put one straight once, I’m sure he’ll do it again.”

  “No, but thank you for that reminder.” Owen grimaced. “I had almost forgotten about being practically assaulted. Now I need therapy.”

  “What, again?” Keegan laughed. “Come on, O. Something’s up. What do you need?”

  Owen sighed and his head drooped. “Therapy was easier to deal with than this. It’s Dad, Keegan. I think something is wrong with him. He won’t talk to me about it, but something isn’t right. You know?”

  “You think he’s sick?” It took Keegan some effort to keep his voice steady. It was an impossible idea. Like a five-year-old, part of Keegan still firmly believed that his father was invincible. Brendan Quinn wasn’t the kind of man who got sick.

  Completely oblivious to Keegan’s dramatic inner monologue, Owen was staring at the table, looking frustrated. “I don’t know. He seems off, and it’s not just because he’s got the FBI on his ass, it’s—” Owen cut off with a sigh. “I can’t explain it right. He seems a little tired, sure, whatever. He’s paler, but he’s inside a lot lately. He gets pissed easier—well, Feds on your ass will do that.” Owen shook his head. “It seems like a lot of nothing, Keegan, but I’m sure. Dad is sick.”

  “And since yo
u’re talking to me about this instead of him . . .” Keegan prompted.

  Owen rolled his eyes and grabbed the fork from Keegan’s hand. “I tried to talk to him, and he told me to mind my own damn business.”

  Keegan jerked back, giving Owen the opening to snatch the plate and take a bite of cheesecake for himself. Their father had said that to Owen? That was the most concerning piece of the puzzle yet. Even when Owen had declared his intentions to go into criminal justice, Brendan Quinn hadn’t said anything so disrespectful to his own son.

  “Oh my god.” Owen’s eyes rolled back and he sank into his seat, sated. “This is the best thing in the universe,” he said when his gaze finally came back around to Keegan, strangely intense. “What’s in this? Crack?”

  “I take it that’s a yes?” came Brigit’s wry voice from the front of the table. “At least, from the junior G-man?”

  Owen scowled at her, but then seemed to consider the words, shrugged, and went back to Keegan’s cheesecake.

  Keegan wanted to snatch it back, but Owen was on his left, and there was no way he could move his left arm that fast. However effective Owen’s cheesecake theft had been, the tactic wasn’t planned. No one but Keegan and his physical therapist knew exactly how bad his arm was.

  Six years earlier, Keegan had been in a firefight while working for his dad. He’d come out of it with a shattered shoulder, and a dead child on his conscience. A great lawyer had kept him out of prison, but even after all the therapy and reconstructive surgery money could buy, Keegan was still trapped. If, by chance, he managed to forget that kid for one damn second, all it took was one reach for something on a high shelf and the pain would bring it all crashing back.

  As long as he moved slowly, his arm would do just about anything he told it to, but going in to grab his cheesecake back from Owen wasn’t an option. He wasn’t willing to reveal that weakness to his little brother.

  Keegan looked up at Brigit and gave her a wry smile. “Guess he thinks it should go on the menu. Better get him a shiny party hat while we’re at it.”

  “Oooh, is he coming out for Pride?” Brigit asked enthusiastically. “I’m sure I’ve got glitter somewhere at home from one of Eric’s school projects. I bet we can find some gold hot pants like Drew is planning to wear.”

  Owen stared up in horror, and it was a long enough distraction for her to swipe the cheesecake and put it back in front of Keegan. She gave him a saucy grin. “Sorry, junior G, the boss has to okay it, not you.”

  Owen scowled at him. “If you don’t put it on the menu, I’m never speaking to you again.”

  And just like that, Owen had forgotten the whole purpose of his visit.

  Keegan smiled at him, and took a bite of cheesecake. Turning to Brigit, he nodded his approval. It took a moment to finish the bite, but when he did, he was once again at a loss for words. It was an impressive cheesecake. “Tell Drew he can put it on the regular menu if he wants.”

  Brigit threw both hands in the air and let out a little cheer, ignoring the looks it garnered from the people around her. She pointed at Keegan. “You love Chef Drew. You know you do, don’t try to deny it.”

  “Keegan’s dating his chef? Is he hot? Wait, is that gold-hot-pants guy?” Owen decided to throw in his own horrible two cents, and it caught Brigit’s attention.

  She stared at Owen wide-eyed for a moment, then her face cleared, and she shook her head. “Nah. It’d never work.”

  Staring covetously at the remains of the cheesecake, Owen pouted. “Too bad. I’d like a guy who could cook like this as a brother-in-law.”

  “And what you want’s the most important thing about who I marry,” Keegan said, looking at Owen. Then he turned to Brigit. “And how do you know it wouldn’t work? Is this about the time he—”

  “He never tried to poison you, Keegan,” Brigit shook her head and wiped a palm down her face. “He didn’t know you were allergic to shellfish. When are you going to let that go?”

  Owen snorted. “Good luck with that. He’s still mad that I accidentally messed up some stuffed animal when we were, like, teenagers.”

  “You’re basically still a teenager, and you tore Mr. Whiskers’ freaking head off. What, I’m supposed to forget that?” Keegan scooted a little further away from Owen, narrowing his eyes. “You know who tears the heads off tigers? Psychos, that’s who.”

  They mock-glared at each other for a few seconds. Keegan was taken by the urge to give Owen a noogie like he would have when they were kids. Even if he were still capable of it, Owen wouldn’t appreciate it.

  “Okay, children,” Brigit said to them, giving a frown that was meant to look frustrated, but wasn’t. “I need to go talk to Drew. You two try not to embarrass me too much while I’m gone, okay?”

  “O-kay,” they answered in unison, then looked at each other.

  “Did your waitress Dad us?” Owen asked, looking confused.

  Keegan had to fight back a smile. “Front of house manager. And yeah. It’s scary how much she reminds me of him sometimes.”

  “I know I’m scared,” Owen agreed. “So, tell me about the chef of the magical gay cheesecake.”

  “No.”

  Owen put a hand to his chest like he’d been mortally offended. “What? Surely you’re not afraid of me? I thought I was basically still a teenager!”

  “You tried to sleep with my best friend when you were fourteen,” Keegan reminded him.

  Owen grinned cheekily. “I was precocious. It was endearing.”

  “He was straight. He didn’t think so.” Keegan stuffed the last bite of cheesecake into his mouth and gave Owen a close-mouthed smile around it.

  Owen shrugged and stared longingly at the plate. “His loss. There’s gonna be more of that, right?”

  “You came to talk to me about Dad, Owen,” Keegan said when he’d finished swallowing. “Anything else he’s been doing?”

  “He didn’t go out for dinner with the Bradys last Friday,” Owen said, serious again now that Keegan had pulled him back to the matter at hand. “They were only in town for a few days. He told them he was busy, but he just went to his room and stayed there.”

  And that clinched it. There was no way his father would have avoided dinner with some of his oldest friends if there weren’t something wrong.

  “Plus, he’s had a cold for like three weeks,” Owen added as though it were an afterthought. Keegan stared at him until he started to fidget. “Should have led with that?”

  Keegan nodded, but then he let his features soften. “I’ll talk to him, O,” he promised. “If something’s wrong, we’ll get him to a doctor.”

  Owen gave a long sigh that suggested doubt, but he nodded and stood.

  Brigit appeared by his side with a to-go box. “I’m going to assume you’re not the reason Key looks like someone kicked his kitten, and give you this anyway.”

  Looking inside to find a slice of cheesecake, Owen gave her a genuine smile. “If I were that kind of gay, I’d totally hug you right now. Thanks!” He turned to Keegan. “See you at dinner?” His voice sounded hopeful. He was probably looking for Keegan to run interference on his usual argument with their dad.

  Keegan wasn’t sure he wanted to get tangled up in that on a Saturday evening, so he decided to dodge the question.

  “That kind of gay,” Keegan grumbled at him. “I ought to kick your ass for making homophobic cracks like that.”

  “Yeah,” Brigit agreed, arms crossed. “It’s Pride cheesecake. You’re supposed to be proud.”

  “It’s April,” Owen pointed out. “And liking guys and eating rainbow cheesecake doesn’t mean I have to like hugging people. Later!” He turned and left before either of them could offer a response.

  They watched him go before Brigit turned back to Keegan and shrugged. “I guess he’s right. I mean, we have to plan June’s menu in April and all, but hugging people can be kind of awkward.”

  Keegan sighed and let his head fall back against the backrest of the booth. “It�
��s too bad he’s gay. You’d be perfect for each other. Now, bring me more cheesecake before someone else comes along to steal it.”

  She threw him a half-hearted glare and went off to the kitchen, leaving Keegan to stew on his own. His head dropped, and he tried to soothe the uneasy twist in his stomach with a rub of his hand. Nothing was going to help until he knew that his father was okay, not even Chef Drew’s magic cheesecake.

  #

  Keegan didn’t love the house he grew up in. It was beautiful, he knew. It was huge, spacious, and looked like it belonged in a magazine. But it wasn’t the kind of place for a family with young sons. He had memories of a much smaller place where they’d lived when he was knee-high beside his dad—a house with a tiny yard and neighbors on both sides. That was a home for raising kids. Dad had come up in the world, though, and he’d thought his status required a mansion instead of a home.

  It had been okay when Keegan’s mother had been alive—she could make just about anywhere feel safe and warm. But when she had died giving birth to Owen, everything in his life had become like their new house: huge, empty, and cold. It had taken a long time to get over it, and Keegan was still convinced that if it hadn’t been for Owen, he never would have. Owen needed him constantly, and that had been the best thing that happened in Keegan’s preteen years.

  Keegan’s therapist said his mother’s death had shaped who he’d become, and he supposed she was right. Losing her at eight, he had grown up taking care of his brother, and trying to take care of his father, because there was no one else around to do it.

  Taking care of his father hadn’t worked out, but he’d tried anyway. Brendan Quinn wasn’t a man who liked the idea of being coddled. So instead of being able to care for his father, Keegan had made himself into the man his father wanted him to be. Well, the man he thought his father wanted him to be.

  Keegan had gotten too involved in the family business, been too hands-on, and the end result had been a shootout over a shipment of guns. It had left a seven-year-old boy dead, and Keegan permanently crippled. That was part of how his lawyer had proven him innocent, after all. He hadn’t gotten so much as one shot off before one of the Russians put a bullet in his shoulder, leaving him lying in the street, half-conscious, to be found by the police.