“Something isn’t right with all this.” He rests his hand on my hip, fighting a yawn.
“I know.”
“But we’re not going to figure it out at three a.m. when we’re both beat.”
“When’s it all going down?”
“Tomorrow at five.”
“I want to be there.”
“Absolutely not. It will be fucking mayhem.”
“I’m good with a gun, and I know how to protect myself.” I’ve no plans on killing anyone, but I want to be there for a number of reasons. Maybe, I can get some stuff on camera I can use for leverage. I might glean some intel that could help me take them down. And I want to be standing with The Sainthood when Darrow and The Arrows show up. It will be immediately obvious I’ve double-crossed him, and he’ll want my blood. Standing shoulder to shoulder with the most powerful criminal gang in the state will buy me some protection and some time.
“You’re not getting anywhere near that shitshow tomorrow. It’s not safe.” His expression tells me not to bother arguing, but he doesn’t know me very well if he thinks I’ll let it drop this easily.
“It’s not safe to leave me unprotected. Especially when Darrow finds out I’ve betrayed him for you guys again.”
He sighs, pulling me into his arms. “Can we have this fight tomorrow because I need to fucking sleep.” He says this even though I see the agreement in his eyes. He knows I’ve made a valid point.
I snuggle into him. “Okay, but I’m not backing down.”
“So fucking stubborn,” he mumbles, his voice already laced with sleep.
“I’ve three words for you,” I say. “Pot. Kettle. Black.”
He laughs, hugging me tighter, and I fall asleep feeling more content and less alone than I have in ages.
_______________
The door slamsagainst the wall, and we jolt upright in the bed, instantly awake and on guard.
“Well, isn’t this cozy?” Sinner drawls, leaning casually against the doorway as he stares at both of us.
“What is so urgent you had to barge into my bedroom at”—Saint glances at his cell phone through sleepy eyes “—seven a.m. on a weekend.”
His dad pushes off the wall. “You need to come with me.”
“Why?”
“Don’t fucking talk back, boy. If I say I need you, I need you. Now get up.”
Saint sits upright in the bed, gritting his teeth. “I’ll meet you downstairs. I need to grab a quick shower,” he lies.
The look Sinner gives his son is one I’ve rarely seen him direct at Saint, and it starts alarm bells ringing in my ears.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” Sinner says, cocking his head and smirking at me as his eyes drop to my chest. At some point during the night, I removed my sweater, so I’m only in a thin tank top that leaves little to the imagination. “A quickie is out this morning.”
Saint yanks the covers up over my chest, and Sinner narrows his eyes at his son as he walks toward me. My instinct is to run and hide, but I’m not going to cower from this bastard. He needs to realize I’m not a frightened thirteen-year-old any longer. I tip my chin up and meet him with a fierce gaze, remaining stoic as he traces his fingers along my collarbone. “But I’ll be in the mood to celebrate tonight.” He edges his fingers lower. “You should test drive a real man for a change.”
Saint grabs his wrist before his fingers dip under the edge of my top. “Take your hands off her.”
“Or what?” Sinner grins at his son, and it’s downright evil.
“Or you can find some other goons to put their lives on the line today.” He shoves Sinner’s hand away, pulling me in under his arm.
“Careful, son. Don’t play with fire unless you’re prepared to get burned.” He walks to the door. “Get your ass out of bed. You really don’t want to keep me waiting.” He leaves the door open on purpose, and Saint jumps up, slamming it shut after him.
