Ritual Sins Read Online Free PDF Page A

knew, of course. Particularly Alfred, who’d overseen her care. He’d helped her make the arrangements, but she knew that Luke paid no attention to the financial aspects of the Foundation. His mind and soul were settledon higher things—that was why he had the Grandfathers around. To take care of business.
    Her estate would help take care of a lot of business, and it was the one thing that brought her joy.
    There was a scraping sound, and she used the last of her energy to open her eyes. Luke stood there beside the bed, his face almost obscured by his long hair, and she wished she could reach out and stroke it, when no one was ever allowed to touch him. Surely he’d allow her that much.
    She tried to lift her hand, but she had no strength. There were others in the room—she couldn’t quite focus, but it didn’t matter anymore. Just then she wasn’t interested in anyone but Luke.
    She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She felt Luke’s warm hand pressed against her icy skin, but it was too late to warm her.
    “Time to let go, Georgia,” he said, his rich, deep voice washing over her in waves of elegant longing. He held her hand, as someone drew closer, dressed in the pale blue colors of the medical personnel. The needle was cold in her arm, filling her veins with death.
    She opened her eyes wide, looking for Luke. But all she saw was emptiness.

3
     
    C alvin Leigh was fifty-seven years old and was often mistaken for a child. It wasn’t just his height—at four feet nine he didn’t quite qualify as a little person, but he came close. His youthful face added to the effect of innocent agelessness, as well as his light voice and his seemingly sweet manner. Over the years he’d learned to use those physical traits wisely.
    It hadn’t been easy growing up on the South Side of Chicago. His ancestry was a racial mix of such varying backgrounds that it was almost impossible to recognize a dominant strain. Which meant, of course, that everyone hated him. Hated him for being black, white, Hispanic, Asian, and Jewish. Hated him for his stunted growth and his strangeness.
    It was a wonder he’d survived the regular,vicious beatings that were part of his home and street life. But he had, and it wasn’t until he was in his late forties, doing time for passing bad checks, that he found out why.
    He’d met Luke Bardell, and known peace. He’d been put on this earth, given these various trials and challenges, to prepare himself to be Luke’s helper. It was all he’d ever asked in life: a purpose. A cause. And Luke Bardell was that cause.
    Not that he had any illusions about the man he chose to follow, out of prison and into the richest con game a man could ever imagine. He knew Luke better than anyone. He was privy to the secrets, the needs, the plans that no one else could even imagine of their sainted leader. He knew where the money was, both his and Luke’s share. And he knew the escape route by heart.
    But he also knew Luke better than Luke knew himself. Knew that his strength, his ability to draw people to him, to move them, was more than a con man’s ultimate gift. It went beyond that into realms so bizarre that Calvin couldn’t attempt to understand it, and he didn’t try. It was simply something he felt with his heart.
    Something Luke himself denied.
    Calvin had known Stella Connery was trouble, and he’d welcomed her death with unholy relief. Only to find it wasn’t that simple. Her daughter was a far greater threat.
    One that had to be neutralized.
    She was here now, and he could see the way Luke watched her. Calvin prided himself on being more attuned to Luke than anyone, and he could practically read Luke’s mind. He wanted her. Despite or perhaps because of, the threat she posed to everything they’d worked for, he wanted Rachel Connery.
    And Calvin meant to see he didn’t have her.
    He wasn’t squeamish about death. He wasn’t squeamish about anything; he did what needed to be done.