Page 17 of Savage Saint

A separate building for church.

The private homes of the high-ranking members.

I make it from the hospital to the second gate in ten minutes, and the two armed prospects quickly step aside when they see me.

I don’t slow down for them either, barely putting the car in park before I’m rushing to her door and yanking it open. Genesis startles at the sudden movement, her entire body jerking awake as she sucks in a sharp breath. For a few seconds, there’s nothing but confusion in those pretty eyes as she looks around, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings.

The high walls. Armed men. Me.

Then it clicks. I see it the moment it all comes rushing back, and whatever fog remained disappears. She sits straighter, but her cuffed hands clench. Her gaze drops to them before snapping back to my face, and I watch her take me in all over again. Slower this time, those eyes move over my features, lingering long enough for a faint blush to sweep across her cheeks.

What are you thinking, Pocket Doc?

Reaching across her body, I unlock her seatbelt before settling a hand over her cuffed ones. “I need your help, Ms. Romero. Don’t disappoint me.” Nothing. Not a nod or sound. My brother is inside bleeding, and this woman is still fucking studying me. Enough of this mierda. “You’re going to burn holes in me, Genesis.”

My patience snaps; I step into her space before she can react, one hand wrapping around her throat. Beneath my fingers, her pulse thrums almost violently at my touch, and her short, uneven gasp finally clears whatever mental fog has been protecting her.

I have her full attention, and those warm brown eyes sharpen on mine. There’s a small bit of fire in them—she’s angry now—yet Genesis Romero doesn’t say a word.

Beautiful when pissed.

“Better?”

“Let go.” Two words, and they’re a low hiss through. I almost smile.

“My brother’s injured and bleeding, little Pocket Doc.” I lean closer, keeping my voice low, yet the edge of a threat is clear. “I didn’t bring you here to stare at me. You will walk through that door behind you, left, and follow the long hallways to the end where a prepared medical room sits. Do you understand?”

Her nostrils flare. “I’m not a doctor⁠—”

“You’re whatever I need you to be.” Squeezing her throat a final time, I release her and step back. Raise a brow. “Now, can you follow directions? Or do I need to persuade you further?”

If looks could kill, I’d be six feet under, but the slip of a woman is smart enough not to insult me. Not that it isn’t deserved; I’m a bastard even while on my best behavior, and my patience is thin.

“What kind of injury am I looking at?” Genesis says, her voice steadier now as she lifts a hand to her throat, the cuffs clinking with her movement. They also make her pause. Her gaze drops to them, head tilted to the side, before sliding back to me. “Are these still necessary? I’ll need my hands to assess⁠—”

Before she can finish, I cut off her complaint and reach into my pocket, pulling out the small keys. Genesis’s hands are free, her body turned and pushed forward by a hand at the small of her back before she can say anything else.

Words are useless to me right now. We’ve wasted enough time.

At the threshold, she pauses, her hand gripping the doorframe. Nails digging in. “Will you let me go after this?”

“Save him, and we’ll talk.”

“Promise me I can walk.”

Brave. A little silly to bargain with me, too.

“Get inside, Genesis.” The drop in my tone makes her tense; I watch as a hard shiver runs through her. “Quit wasting time. Because if he dies, I’ll bury you with him.”

5

GENESIS

…if he dies, I’ll bury you with him.

Something about those words set off every professional instinct in my body. I’m trained for this—how to react in a life-or-death situation—and nothing else matters. Exhaustion and fear take a back seat as my brows furrow, and I turn to look back at the man who kidnapped me.

How the hell did I end up kidnapped? This is bad, and something tells me he is worse.