“I have to go out for a few hours. Will you stay here, then we can go to my parents’ house to see Scotty, Jax, and the kids together?” Reaching for my hand, he brings it to his lips, sucking a finger into his mouth like I didn’t just feed him a sweet treat.
“I’d like that.” There’s a husky note to my tone, and I feel desire shooting through me for Saint’s touch, his lips, his body.
“Good. Tonight, I’d like to explore you more, too.”
Swallowing around the lump in my throat, my body is ready to melt for him from the heat in his voice.
“Okay.” What the heck else can I say?
Standing up, he drops a kiss to my stunned lips and brings our dishes to the kitchen, cleaning up quickly before heading out with one last mind-bending kiss, leaving me panting and waiting for him to return home.
Home.
Am I really thinking of it that way now?
Living together so soon seems like we’re moving too fast. There will be objections and disagreements, but if I’m being honest with myself, standing in the foyer of Saint’s house…whenever I’ve felt safest, it’s always been here. With Saint at my side, holding me through the storm as I cried and screamed out my frustrations.
Home, for me, is Saint—no doubt about it. Moving in with him is a no-brainer. It’s his commitment to me that fills me with questions about whether we’re doing the right thing. Even though I’m doing okay now, it doesn’t mean I will be in six months or a year. I could break. My mind could fracture, and he could get sick and tired of picking me back up again.
But what if he doesn’t? My inner voice chimes in; she’s always been the loudest champion for Saint and me being together.
Shaking myself free of thoughts that can wait, I go take a shower, then tidy up our room after getting dressed. Making a treat for Scotty’s twin girls seems like fun, so I find a recipe for unicorn cookies and get to whipping up the dough and sliding the first pan in the oven when the doorbell rings.
After setting the timer and wiping off my hands, I grab my phone, with Saint’s name already pulled up, to call him if I need him before walking to the front when it rings again. Taking a calming breath, I shake off the sudden nerves, assuring myself that I’m being ridiculous. This is Saint’s home; no one will bother me here.
Oh, how very wrong I am. As I open the door and the two men turn to look at me, I’m yanked back to a hot summer night eight years ago and revert to the fourteen-year-old girl who just wanted her Daddy to rescue her.
Without realizing it, I’ve pressed “call” to Saint’s number, and while I can hear his voice in the background, it’s the men at the door who capture my undivided attention.
“Afternoon, ma’am,” Craig says, his eyebrows scrunching together like he’s trying to figure out how he knows me. “We’re from the Restored Church of Jesus Christ, out spreading the word of the Lord today.” He offers me a pamphlet, which I ignore, as my eyes shift towards Caleb, who stands frozen just like me. Obviously, he recognizes me.
“Saint,” I croak out while bringing the phone to my ear and attempting to slam the door. “They’re here.” Caleb blocks my move, and I drop my phone while pushing it harder as the two men argue before it’s shoved so forcefully, I fly backwards onto the linoleum floor.
“Get out!” I shout, scooting back, trying to get as far away as possible as they enter the house, shutting and locking the door.
“She needs to die,” Caleb snarls. He’s the one Saint saw in the grocery store. Craig just looks sick to his stomach. “She’ll tell the world what we did.” His hands move to his pants.
“No, I won’t. Leave. Please just leave.” I don’t know if my phone hung up on Saint, but I hope he hears this. “Don’t touch me!” My scream startles them, and they pause as I get to my feet and run to the kitchen, a weapon the only thing on my mind.
Skidding to a stop, my hip hits the corner of the counter; it will definitely bruise later. If I make it out of this alive. Just like that night, nobody is coming for me. Only this time, instead of waiting for them to tire of me, I need to rescue myself.
Grabbing the handle of a knife, I wield it in front of me, ready to strike if necessary. I back away as they slowly approach, Craig still looking sick.
“He’ll kill you,” I hiss. I know Saint, he’ll do more than kill them. “He’ll butcher and maim you. And he won’t stop with you. He’ll go for everyone you care about, and he won’t end until your entire bloodline is annihilated.”
Caleb scoffs while Craig just keeps looking sicker.
“He’ll have to catch us first.” Caleb’s words may taunt, but he’s so focused on me that he doesn’t realize what’s about to happen.
“He already has.”
I have no idea where Saint was when I called him, but it couldn’t have been far. As he, Bishop, and my dad silently enter the kitchen, I set the knife down on the counter.
“Weak-ass bitch.” Caleb titters and makes a move for me just as Saint steps behind him and locks an arm across his throat. He gurgles, sputters, and fights, but it’s no use. Not for either of them.
“I warned you,” I say. Walking away is the only thing to do at this point. I know what’s about to happen, and I don’t need to bear witness to it. “Take me home, Daddy, please.”
“Home?” Saint growls, and I turn to find him in a blind rage as his arm tightens its hold.
