Page 103 of Savage Saint

The clubhouse is packed and loud tonight.

It’s a little chaotic and a lot alive, and I find myself smiling as I exit my car, taking the hand of the man waiting for me. He greets me with a slow, savoring kiss—the kind that ruins panties—before walking me inside without a word.

I like that about him. About us.

Not every single moment we’re together needs to be filled with talking.

In the time I’ve known him, I’ve begun to truly appreciate the silence. A lesson he taught me a few nights ago when he showed up at my door just before my shift. It wasn’t Santos who came to me, but Saint. All hard edges, scowling face, and wearing someone else’s blood. I wanted to ask him what was wrong, demand he let me check him, but the man simply pulled me into a hug and held me close.

That’s it. That’s all he wanted.

We didn’t talk.

Not a sound when he bent his head down and kissed me.

Nothing when he carried me out the door while I changed my scrub top and he cleaned up in my bathroom. He held my hand with one of his, took my bags with the other, and guided me out to his bike. I was placed on it, my arms secured around his waist, and delivered three minutes late to the front door with another kiss before he drove away.

Then, when I was exhausted and wondering how I’d get home, he was there.

He’s become my constant presence. Mine.

Music pounds from the speakers, and I can’t help but move to the rhythm, my hips gyrating as the smoke from grills drifts in through open doors. Rizos is standing in front of the largest one, tongs in his hands, turning what looks to be chicken and sausages, while a long table with moro, macaroni salad, yuca with mojo, and a plethora of other dishes is being guarded by Maria.

There’s enough food to feed half of the city.

My stomach grumbles as someone hands me a drink. When I look up, I find Trino’s eyes crinkling at the corners. “If it isn’t my favorite mighty nurse.”

“You look good,” I say, taking a sip and immediately catching the whiff of mamajuana. It’s strong, but goes down smooth, leaving behind a warmth that spreads fast. I had to cover half a shift this morning and crashed face first on my bed the second I got home. Haven’t eaten. “How’s the side wound? Did it need stitches?”

“You can’t help yourself.” He pulls me from his brother, ignoring the dark look that crosses Santos’s face. “Come on. Let me introduce you to some people. Leave the boring man⁠—”

“Hand her over.” Dios, Santos scared me. His voice dropped, his entire aura darkened.

“Santos, let me spend some time with my sis⁠—”

“I will hurt you.”

“How do you put up with him?” Trino asks me, voice sullen, yet I catch the mischievousness. The mockery. He’s riling him up on purpose.

“Because he understands I’m a foodie at heart and need caffeine fixes. I appreciate that.”

He knows what his brother did. I know the entire club was involved in upgrading the nurses’ lounge; that place has become a haven for us. Not that Trino brings it up. The younger De La Cruz simply rolls his eyes, then calls someone over. “Help me with the little nurse that could over here.”

Doc appears beside him, nursing a beer in one hand and holding a fried empanada in the other. “Be nice, Kaos. She’s trying to remain civil now.” At that, my head turns and my eyes narrow. His grin widens. “And apparently, she’s also not into talking behind other people’s backs. Coffee always without cookies, too.”

That slick-talking son of a⁠—

“Piss her off, and you’ll be volunteering to clean bedpans for a week at the hospital. Again.” I’ve never seen someone go from cocky and playful to damn near comatose in two seconds flat. “That’s better.”

“Saint, you’ll be rewarded for your chivalry.”

“I only aim to please.” He steps away just long enough to grab a chair, place it down in front of me, but before I can sit, he picks me up and drops me on his lap. “Alvin complaining?”

“He is such a snitch. Even after I made him the best cup of coffee in his grubby little life.” After shaking my head, I turn and kiss Santos on the cheek. And again, the room stops and stares at us. Me. From the women to the men wearing vests with patches, to the prospects. Everyone just watches.

“Ummm. They’re doing it again.”

“They are.” He lifts my cup to my lips, and after I take a sip, he downs the rest. “Just relax. I’m the only one here who will bite.”