I follow Nico through the red curtains and into the bar the President owns. The bar is on the right side of the room. On the left are two long billiard tables. Members in leather jackets leaning over their shots, pool cues cracking against the balls. The sound is rolling through the smoke as the low music of‘Guns and Roses’plays in the background. Every single one of them wears the same jacket I do.
Fallen Saints.Criminals. Men who hide from the world, from the law, and even from the people who once loved them. Every one of us came here as just a regular person, until one single moment twisted us into something else. Monsters. The moment that made usFallen Saints.
Nico knocks on the wooden door set into the wall beside the bar. The door opens, and the President stands there, watching us enter.
No one knows his real name. No one knows anyone’s real name here. We choose them. Even Nico is not Nico. They call him Saint, because most of the men who walk through these doors do it because he saved them.
Just like he saved me.
“Chaos,” the President says. “Now that you are one of us, your first job is to help us rob a mansion in Del Mar.”
My jaw tightens. I swallow, hoping it is not my father’s house. I pray Carmen will not be there, because when it comes to women, they are ruthless.
I nod.
He squints, holding my eyes. Then he presses a black bandana and a gun into my hands. I slide the gun behind my back and stuff the bandana into the pocket of my jeans.
“Tomorrow. One in the morning,” the President says. “It’s the Harrington house.”
Fuck.
Nico doesn’t say a word. He just looks at me, then drops his gaze to the floor. I keep my face still. When the President offers his hand, I take it and shake.
“Judge William Harrington has been a pain in my ass for years,” he says. “This is how I will pay him back. When you are done, you burn the place to the ground.”
I nod again.
“Wonderful.” He claps his hands and drops into his chair, boots up on the table. He bites down on a cigar and waves us off. “Why are you still here? Go.”
Nico taps my shoulder, and we turn and walk out.
The men track us with their eyes. Some laugh. Some nod. Some look like they wish we were not here at all. We keep moving and head back toward the bar.
Nico calls out to the waitress. The President’s daughter. None other than Harper.
No one here knows she and Nico are together.
There is something about forbidden love that makes your blood run faster, makes your heart chase what it is not supposed to touch. It pulls you in like a magnet. Like a moth to flame. That’s why they never judged me for wanting Carmen.
They know what it is like to be someone’s favorite secret.
Harper leans in, her eyes locked on Nico.
“What do you want, Saint?” She winks, chews her gum, stretches it between her fingers, and blows a small bubble that pops against her lips.
“My two favorite men,” he says. “Jack for Chaos. Johnny for me.”
She smirks. “You into men now, Saint?”
She grabs the bottles and pours them into the whiskey glasses lined up on the counter.
“Maybe,” Nico says, eyes dropping to her as she leans forward to put the bottles back. He bites his lip.
I shove him, laughing. When he notices the looks from around the bar, he clears his throat.
“No,” he says. “I like my women just fine.” Then, lower, “And redheads.”
Harper laughs and straightens.
