I mash my boot into the dead guy’s crotch, kicking him a few times, hoping he feels it in hell. “I don’t feel so bad now,” I admit even though it’s still a fucked-up situation because the assholes are keeping the proof I committed murder, and no doubt, they intend to dangle it over my head to ensure I do their bidding.
“Asshole deserved it,” Caz says, unbuttoning his jeans.
Saint grins as he drops my hand and joins his buddies. I’m not sure what it says about me, but I watch with begrudging amusement as the four guys piss all over McKenzie’s dead body.
_______________
The house isempty when we return, but that’s not a huge surprise. Mom is rarely at home anymore. “Everyone, shower and meet in the basement,” Saint commands, and I salute him.
He pulls me into his body, squeezing my ass. “I’m going to enjoy this so much, baby.” I drill him with a “fuck you” look. “We’ve got leverage now, princess.” He squeezes my butt harder. “We completely fucking own your ass.”
“Like hell you do.” I plant my hands on my hips and tip my chin up. I’ve given this a lot of thought on the journey home. “So what if you have a gun with my fingerprints? It’s unregistered and can’t be traced back to me. And if the cops were to ever question me, I’d feed them some bull about how you tricked me into holding your gun. We do live together, remember?”
“That gun committed murder, baby.” Saint’s smug confidence grates on my very last nerve.
“If you turned it over, it’d implicate The Sainthood.” I return his smug look with one of my own. “You think anyone in this entire town would believe your word over mine?” Although some might question my morals and my judgment over the tape, I’ve never been in trouble with the law, and what happened to me as a kid garnered plenty of good will. “I’m a model student, a model citizen, and a bereaved daughter who was once kidnapped by the very same organization accusing me of murder. Get fucking real. That evidence is worth jack shit, and you know it.”
“What the hell did you just say?” Theo asks from behind, and I turn around.
“You heard me.”
Galen, Caz, and Theo share puzzled expressions before looking to their leader. “What’s she talking about, Saint?”
He steps forward, closing his eyes briefly and rubbing at his temples. “Shit.”
That’s all I need to know to confirm the others aren’t clued in. He never said anything, and it’s obvious that bastard Sinner didn’t either. I’m not sure what to make of that or how it changes things, if at all, but I park those thoughts for now.
Saint opens his eyes, watching me with that intrusive lens of his.
I cock my head to the side. “Do you want to tell them or shall I?”
CHAPTER 23
SAINT INSISTS WEshower before talking as we’re all covered in blood and reeking of smoke. He also insists on watching me scale the drainpipe and climb through my bedroom window, telling me if I end up falling to my death he’ll have to explain it to my mom.
He’s an idiot if he thinks I believe that.
Douche just wants to ogle my ass some more.
As I’m leaving my room after freshening up, I make a mental note to install the other padlock I bought to the front of the door because climbing in and out of my window is getting old real fast.
I saunter into the basement in a cloud of perfume, the musky, sensual tones of jasmine, vanilla, and sandalwood mixing with spicy dark fruits, swirling around me in an alluring haze. My freshly blow-dried hair is tumbling down my back in soft waves, and I love how each of the guy’s gazes roams my tiny denim shorts and the off-the-shoulder short-sleeved black and silver top I’m wearing.
I’m slowly reeling them in whether they realize it or not.
I’m in my bare feet, and I know my legs look super long and slim and that the edge of my sheer, lacy purple bra is evident on the side where my shirt hangs low. Even dickhead Galen can’t tear his eyes away. I swipe a beer from the bucket on the table and sit on the couch beside Saint, trying not to gloat. I purposely sit close enough that our thighs brush together. The other guys are on the leather couch across from us, their eyes glued to my body, as I get settled.
I bring the beer to my lips, tipping my head back in slow motion and savoring the glide of the cold liquid down my dry throat. I feel the guys’ heated attention, and blood rushes south, making my core pulse with need.
Sexual tension is thick in the air, and my nipples pucker, poking through my flimsy bra and the thin material of my top. My eyes meet Caz’s penetrating gaze, and he looks seconds away from pouncing on me. I lick my lips, tracing the tip of my finger along the rim of the bottle, and his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat while he stretches his thighs out to accommodate the growing bulge in his jeans.
Saint clears his throat, eyeballing Caz. “I thought you wanted the truth.”
“We do,” Theo says, cutting through the heated atmosphere and refocusing our collective energies. His eyes dart to mine. “You told me you didn’t know who kidnapped you. That they kept you blindfolded and they used initials for names.”
“That was all I knew back then. It was only much later I discovered the truth,” I admit.
“And how is ityouknow?” Galen asks, jerking his head at Saint. “I thought there were no secrets between us.”
