“Maybe he meant that literally,” Caz says.
Brakes screech to a halt as Saint stops the car in the middle of the road. Car horns blare behind us, and more brakes screech as cars attempt to avoid crashing into us. Ordinarily, I’d rip Saint a new one for pulling this shit, but I say nothing because he’s a hot mess right now.
Dagger-filled looks and angry fists are raised as the occupants of other cars pass by us, still honking their horns.
Some brave soul gets out of his car, stalking to Saint’s window, pummeling his fists on the glass, shouting and demanding an explanation.
“Oh boy.” Caz chuckles as Saint lowers the window, pointing a gun at the man’s chest.
“You have three seconds to get back to your car before I put a bullet through your heart,” Saint deadpans, his voice cold and cruel. “One, two—” The man races off with his tail between his legs, jumping into his truck and hightailing it out of there.
Saint shuts the window, tucking the gun back into the waistband of his jeans. “I don’t want to talk aboutmy motherormy fatheranymore.” He spits out the words like it pains him to say it. “We have shit to do, and that asshole is not distracting me with lies. Whether she’s alive or dead doesn’t matter. She’s always been dead to me, and I don’t care.” He starts up the car, speaking into the windshield. “So, unless you’ve got a death wish, drop the fucking subject.”
We don’t talk the rest of the journey, and I purposely focus on staring out of the passenger side window to stop myself from sneaking peeks at Saint. None of us buys the horseshit he’s peddling, and I’m worried about him. We all know Sinner is capable of killing his mother, and it would explain her absence, but her running off when Saint was born stacks up too. By then, she would’ve realized who knocked her up. It’s disgusting to think she left an innocent child with a monster, but it’s not inconceivable to imagine her running. She would’ve known not to run when she was pregnant. Sinner would never have let her take off with his kid, so maybe it was her plan all along.
The only thing we know for sure is we’ll never find out, and Sinner isn’t above using whatever means necessary to control his son.
The guys wait at the abandoned store, like last time, and I take Saint’s Land Rover, driving it to the sleazy biker bar and parking it outside.
I spot the back of Darrow’s head the second I walk into the dive, making a beeline for the booth he’s in, pressing down on my necklace to activate the recording device so the guys can listen in. Diesel gave Theo access to the cloud drive the recordings automatically copy to, and he synced it to an app on the guys’ cell phones.
“You’re late,” Dar barks as I slide into the seat across from him.
“Bite me,” I drawl.
“I wait for no one,” he adds, his eyes dropping to my chest.
“I see you still have a healthy god complex.” I lean back casually in the booth.
His tongue darts out, wetting his lips, as his eyes stay glued to my cleavage.
He’s such a dog. “Eyes on my face, asshole.”
He leers at me, running his finger around the rim of his half-empty glass. “I miss fucking your tight cunt,” he admits, and I imagine the guys are restraining Saint right about now. “Tempest’s no fun in bed.”
“Not my problem, and not what we’re here to discuss.” I slide the lipstick across the table to him.
“What the fuck is this?” His brows knit together as he stares at it.
“It’s a USB stick with a ton of my father’s files on it.” I had almost forgotten I’d copied those files as a backup a few months ago. I know this won’t appease Darrow much, but it’s the best we could come up with at short notice. “You’ll be able to get more of your guys out of the joint.”
“This isn’t what we agreed.” He drains his beer and slams the bottle down on the table, clicking his fingers at the bottle-blonde behind the counter. “We agreed you’d get me current intel on what The Sainthood is up to, and you’ve given me jack shit.” Spittle flies from his mouth, and his nostrils flare.
I must have been temporarily brain-dead to ever find him attractive.
“I was in the fucking hospital, and I can’t pull intel from my ass,” I snap, my patience stretching thin. My fingers twitch with the ever-increasing need to put a bullet in his skull. I should’ve taken the opportunity when he kidnapped me, because he’s a fucking nuisance, and he’s getting on my last nerve. I unsheathe my knife, letting the feel of it in my palm ground me.
“This is piss-poor, and you know it.” He grinds his teeth, and his eyes narrow to slits. The waitress plonks a fresh beer down on the table, and Darrow yanks her to him, slamming his mouth against hers and shoving his tongue in her mouth, all while keeping his eyes open and staring at me.
Anger burns red hot in his eyes at my lack of reaction. Abruptly, he pulls back, grabbing her wrist to keep her in place. “But you can make it up to me.” Placing his gun on top of the table, he leers at me again, and I know what he’s going to say before he says it. “Join me and Jazzie in the back room, and I won’t put a bullet in your treacherous cunt.”
I press the sharp edge of my knife to his balls under the table, grinning as his eyes widen in alarm, and his body stiffens. “I wouldn’t fuck you if you were the last man on Earth and my pussy was about to shrivel up and die. Slide the gun over the table, and I won’t push this knife into your balls and chop off your cock.”
I press in a bit harder when he doesn’t immediately move, and he jerks against the seat, hissing through his teeth. “You are so dead, Lo.”
“Brave words for a man with a knife pressed against his dick.”
Blondie’s eyes widen, and her lips twitch. Reaching across him, she takes the gun and hands it to me.
