Bad Saint (All The Pretty Things Trilogy Volume 1)

by Monica James

  When I hear a zipper being pulled up, my heart begins to slow down.

  When I think it’s safe, I gingerly look his way, only to see he’s still topless. He has no shoes on either. Just pants. They sit low on his narrow hips which just seems to accentuate his hardened V muscle. His wet hair hangs around his face and appears longer, and I really wish he’d put on a shirt because his tattoo and nipple piercing and entire nakedness are distracting.

  I welcome a deafening thunderclap because it jolts me from my gawking.

  “It’ll pass,” Saint comforts me, which is strange as his assurance feels foreign.

  I nod in response, hugging my knees to my chest. “Are we safe in this thing?”

  He cocks his head to the side, a grin shaping those sinful lips. “I didn’t think you’d care if we capsized.” He’s right, I wouldn’t, especially after what Kazimir revealed today. But regardless, it feels strange seeing him smile. I don’t see it often, but it suits him.

  There is a sudden silence. The air is heavy with unspoken, forbidden words. I know why that is a moment later. “I spoke to Popov earlier.” My hunch was right, but it doesn’t feel good to be right. “We will be in Russia in about seven days. There are a few stops along the way, but we will be there in a week or so.”

  I don’t know why he’s telling me this.

  He walks toward the mattress, standing in front of me, waiting for me to speak. But I have nothing to say.

  “He asked about you,” he reveals. I lower my eyes, not wanting him to see me cry. “I told him he wouldn’t be disappointed. I sent him your picture.” No doubt the one he took of me as a submissive little lamb.

  If this is some sort of pep talk, then Saint shouldn’t give up his day job.

  Unable to stomach any more, I lower myself to the mattress and lie on my side, my back turned to Saint. I weep silent tears. They slip into my parted lips, and I taste salty sadness. It’s a flavor I should be accustomed to.

  The storm is now a welcomed disturbance as the wild wind and ferocious waves drown out my weeping. In seven days, life as I know it will forever be changed. And there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it.

  Using my hands as a pillow, I prop them under my head, wishing sleep would finally save me from the horrifying images swirling around my mind. However, when the mattress dips minutes later, and I feel a comforting warmth at my back, those images soon settle and are replaced with silence.

  My heart begins to race, and my breathing is shallow because there must be some mistake, but when a comforting fragrance floats through the air, I know that there is no mistake. Saint has laid down behind me.

  He doesn’t touch me, but the heat from his body instantly thaws the chill, and I melt. My world calms. I don’t know why he’s lying with me, but I don’t question it because I need this human connection. I know this is crazy, but honestly, I’m forever questioning my sanity, especially when I languidly shuffle backward so I can feel his breath on the back of my neck.

  We’re still inches apart, but knowing he’s beside me has a warmth spreading from head to toe. And the action within itself…I don’t understand. Why is he offering me this comfort? I want to ask him. But I don’t. I’m afraid he’ll pull away, and I need this.

  I need him.

  I decide to tell him about what Kazimir said when I wake because now, the sluggish tempo of his inhales and exhales lulls me into a sleepy bubble, and I surrender, sleeping beside my captor.

  When I was a child, I used to suffer terrible night terrors, so much so, my father gave up his own bed so I could sleep by my mother. The comfort of knowing she was there beside me gave me a false sense of security, but even so, my dreams weren’t as real when I wasn’t alone.

  When I woke up screaming, she would comfort me and tell me it was all right. That is was only a bad dream. Hearing her voice and smelling her perfume caused the terror to fade, and I would realize it was just a nightmare.

  I would give anything for her to tell me that again because when I feel something cold and hard press against my forehead, I know this isn’t a bad dream. This is real.

  “Wake up, bitch.”

  My eyes snap open.

  Before me are two men or, rather, two monsters. The biggest monster of all, Kazimir, crouches down beside me with the barrel of a gun pressed to my brow. Instantly, I jerk back, but his hand snaps out and grips me by the bicep. “And where do you think you’re going?”

  I squirm against his hold, but it’s useless.

  “I told you, you owe me. It’s time to pay up.” He yanks me up violently while I writhe with all my might against his hold. However, when I see a bloodied Saint slouched in front of me with two men on either side of him, holding him back, my fight dies a quick death.

  The one to his left grins, and I immediately remember him. He was one of Pipe’s men. He seems to have taken on the role of captain, which has me believing Pipe is dead. Saint struggles wildly, but he doesn’t stand a chance as he’s clearly wounded.

  His face is a bloodied mess, but that seems secondary as the deep gash to his side gushing bright red blood has my utmost attention. Those pained grunts and winded exhalations, I believed them to be just a bad dream, but seeing Saint, bloodied and wounded, I know they ambushed him when he was asleep…beside me.

  He let his guard down for a split second, but he will pay for that moment dearly. I instantly feel guilty for being so needy because if I hadn’t, we wouldn’t be in this dire position. Without a doubt, they will kill him, and as for me, it looks like I’m about to finally pay my dues.

  “Meet your new master, Gringo,” Kazimir cockily says, waving the gun in the direction of the dirty, destitute looking man. He wears black pants with holes torn in the knees and a faded NIKE T-shirt. A red bandana holds back his long and matted hair.

  When he sneers, I see he’s missing a few teeth. The remaining ones are yellowed, like someone who has smoked too much tobacco. “Hello, peach. We’re going to have some fun. Payback for what you did to Pipe. And once we’re through, I have someone else who is very interested in seeing if you taste as sweet as you look.”

  Saint thrashes about madly, but when his other captor punches his wound, he screams in utter torment. I lock eyes with him, wondering what it feels like for my captor to now be a captive, but seeing him bound doesn’t give me any satisfaction. The need to help him overcomes me, but I stay put.

  Kazimir sold me out to god knows how many people. But this is personal for Gringo. I was inadvertently the reason for his friend’s demise. He will ensure I pay. And pay dearly.

  A bolt of lightning sparks to life, alerting me to the ferocious storm outside. It also kicks Kazimir’s plan into motion. “Now, before I give you to Gringo, you owe me and Adal a taste.”

  When Adal steps forward, I know that the identity of my last captor has finally been revealed. I only have to look into those beady, cruel eyes to know he’s the asshole who pistol-whipped me. He and Kazimir are here for their pound of flesh.

  I flail frantically, but when Kazimir shoves the gun into my lower back, I freeze, a breath hitching in my throat. “No,” I plead, but Adal advances toward me, running a hand over his rubbery lips.

  Kazimir cackles cruelly, his grip on my arm punishing. “You were always the favorite,” he snaps at Saint who is breathing heavily through clenched teeth. “Could never do no wrong by Boss. You arrogant bastard. This will teach you for telling me what to do. You can watch us fuck your precious ангел until she’s begging us to kill her.”

  Saint struggles violently, grunting and gnashing his teeth, but it’s no use. This is happening, and this time, there is no one here to save me.

  “And when we’re done fucking this tight cunt”—he grips my hair and yanks my head backward—“we will kill you. The last thing you see will be all of us breaking her in two.”

  Tears stream down my face.

  “You won’t get away with this,” Saint spits, eyes narrowed, blood dripping from his lips. “Bos
s will know what you did. He will find you and make you wish I’d killed you.”

  Kazimir bursts into a sarcastic chuckle. “Good luck to him. I’m sick of being his dog. I was the one who should have been his right-hand man, not you!” There is anger behind his words, but I focus on who Saint is to Popov.

  His right-hand man. His most trusted friend. But what does Popov have that Saint wants in return? It’s evident he didn’t just fall into this lifestyle, which has me believing he was forced…but why?

  However, those questions will forever remain unanswered because when Adal shoves me backward and my back slams into the wall, it’s apparent question time is over. He paws at me eagerly—over my breasts and down between my thighs.

  He slams his mouth to mine, and I’m instantly hit with the taste of whiskey. I gag, the liquor reminding me of Kenny, and I attempt to push him off, but Kazimir presses the gun to my temple. I am helpless to move.

  Adal lifts the hem of my dress, thrusting his hips into me, so I’m able to feel his erection. He forcefully touches me over my sex, laughing in utter amusement when I try to close my legs. Kazimir joins in with the assault, licking and sucking along my neck while he fondles my breasts. When he pinches my nipples, I whimper in pain.

  Saint is pushing against his captors, desperate to break free, but they hold him tight, transfixed on the sight of these two disgusting monsters molesting me. I don’t know why, but keeping my eyes locked with Saint’s is the only way I can survive this.

  His chartreuse orbs blister in rage as he screams in fury. When Adal rips off my underwear and unzips his pants, Saint closes his eyes for a mere second, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, ангел.” His words are filled with defeat.

  I cry out, my body convulsing with fear because how do I brace myself for what’s ahead? Kazimir tears the strap of my dress and forces down one shoulder to expose my bra. He yanks down the cup, baring my breast. Adal latches onto my nipple, biting me hard.

  Gringo and the other man holding Saint holler loudly, speaking in a foreign language. The scene of rape and torture seems to get them off. Kazimir suckles my other breast as he forces aside my bra. He still has the gun pressed to my temple, so I remain still, too afraid to move.

  Kazimir and Adal are latched onto my breasts while I silently beg to die.

  “I have money. You can have it. Just let her go,” Saint says, bargaining for my life. I hold my breath.

  Why is he doing this?

  The mention of money piques Kazimir’s interest, and he detaches himself from me. With his gun still trained on me, he turns to look at Saint. “You’d give up everything for this whore? Zoey would be very disappointed to know that. I guess I can see the resemblance between the two.”

  “Leave her out of this!” Saint bellows as a hit of adrenaline courses through him. His two captors are barely able to hold him back. “You don’t speak her name!”

  Who is Zoey? And why is Saint bargaining for my freedom? He was the one who took it away in the first place.

  “Things just got interesting,” Kazimir says. “Maybe keeping you alive is worthwhile.”

  The suggestion has Adal soon forgetting his chore, and he violently lets my breast go. I sag in relief, but my legs are still trembling uncontrollably. I cover my nakedness with my arm as best I can.

  Adal and Kazimir argue in Russian, but Adal clearly doesn’t agree with Kazimir’s thoughts. He knows that as long as Saint is alive, their lives are in danger. But the prospect of money is far more important to Kazimir.

  The conversation soon turns from sex to money.

  “How much?” he asks while Adal shouts, shaking his head, livid.

  Saint remains utterly composed. “Twenty million. Give or take.”

  My unstable legs buckle.

  I remember Saint revealing he wasn’t doing this for money. He wasn’t lying, it appears.

  Kazimir whistles, clearly interested. “Being Popov’s number one…hitman sure does have its perks.”

  My eyes widen, and a gasp escapes me. Hitman? Saint is a hitman?

  He lowers his chin, his blood-soaked hair shielding his face, but the guilt riddling him confirms my question and bile rises. Those hands that touched me, which had me whimpering and begging for a release, have taken away how many lives? They’ve destroyed how many?

  I’ve been given small pieces to this puzzle, but I’m still no closer to uncovering what Saint’s end game is. He’s a hitman who works for the man who bought me. He’s not doing it for the money, which makes me think…he’s doing it for Zoey.

  “We got a deal?” Saint barks, eyes murderous as he slowly lifts his head.

  The air is thick with tension as Kazimir ponders his proposal. “What do you think, Gringo? Want to trade this little slut’s ass for a few million?”

  Gringo weighs over his options. I don’t know what he paid for me, but I am certain it’s not even a fraction of what Kazimir is offering. He did say once he was done with me, I was going to the next contender in line, but passing up that sort of money seems too good an offer.

  “No pussy is worth that much money. We got a deal.”

  Kazimir inhales victoriously while Saint’s jaw is clenched. It seems I’ve been sold yet again. “We have a deal. Aнгел,” he mocks, “will be spared. But if you go back on your word, she’s dead. You both are.”

  Why do I feel like Saint just made a deal with the devil?

  It’s revealed a moment later.

  “But that doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun with her.”

  “No.” I whimper, shaking my head.

  “Oh, yes,” Gringo counters. “Once we were all through with you, we were going to kill you, but now that we have a deal…”

  “That wasn’t part of the deal!” Saint roars, lunging forward, but he’s restrained.

  “It’s as good as it gets,” Kazimir states. “We promise not to kill her as long as we get our money. We have about two days until the next port. You get our money, and we let you both go. But in the meantime…”

  “Make that bitch drop to her knees,” suggests Gringo, eyes wide with excitement while tiny whimpers slip past my lips.

  “Good idea.” Kazimir nods, unbuttoning his pants. “Besides, we got unfinished business.” I know he’s talking about when I knocked him out cold. “Kneel.”

  My back is still pressed to the wall, but Kazimir turns me around wildly so my back faces Saint. He’s done this so Saint has a clear view of Kazimir degrading me. He slips the tip of the gun past my quivering lips and into my mouth, sliding it in and out as an innuendo of what he wants me to do to him.

  Tears leak from my eyes at this terrifying experience. I have a loaded weapon in my mouth with a sociopath holding the trigger. He adjusts the angle of the barrel, forcing me to drop to my knees.

  When I do, he slides the gun farther down my throat, making me gag. “Just giving you a taste of what’s to come.” He laughs while I sob loudly around the metal, frightened he’ll change his mind and blow a hole straight through me.

  When he’s done amusing himself, he removes the gun from my mouth. I take in a handful of breaths, breathing past my tears. But those inhalations are in vain because when Kazimir lowers his pants and his disgusting dick springs up happily, my lungs are robbed of air.

  “It’s not gonna suck itself,” he taunts, gripping the back of my head and forcing me to his crotch. I recoil, reaching backward with one arm to pry his hand off me, but when he presses the barrel of the gun into my cheek, I stiffen.

  With my body slack, he’s able to coerce me forward and force me to open my mouth. When I do, he attempts to thrust into me roughly. I don’t care if he shoots me; there is no way I am pleasuring him. I turn my cheek, refusing to comply.

  “Wanna play rough?” Kazimir teases, the prospect making his dick twitch.

  He holds my hair so tight, tears of pain sting my eyes as I slap his upper thighs, fighting him as he tries to force himself into my mouth. My heart is thrashing wildly,
and I think I’m close to passing out. Adrenaline soars through me, but through the chaos, I hear something which anchors me.

  “You want to act like a dog, they’ll treat you like one.”

  Saint’s hoarse voice cuts through my harsh breathing, and I have no idea why he would say that. Why does he want me to recall the time when he first said it? What happened?

  I tried to escape; that’s what happened. It was when I attempted to creep through the bathroom window. I, of course, failed, and as a result, Saint threw me over his shoulder and then tied me to a pole.

  How is this supposed to help me?

  Think, Willow.

  My attempted escape led to Saint tying me up. What happened between?

  Kazimir hollers in delight, amused Saint would say that, but he doesn’t understand that Saint has said this to me for a reason. And when Kazimir’s dick lunges at me, I know what that reason is.

  Saint said that to me because I bit him—hard. And now, he wants me to do it again.

  “Yes, be a good bitch, and suck it.”

  There is no way around this. Kazimir won’t let me go until he gets what he wants, so I close my eyes, swallow down my revulsion, and surrender. The moment I do, he thrusts his dick into my mouth, and I fight the instinct to recoil.

  He groans loudly, encouraging me to take him in deeper, then moans when I do. He still has the gun pressed to my cheek, but the pressure slackens as his guard lowers. He may have only been in my mouth for mere seconds, but it’s mere seconds too long.

  The grip on my hair loosens, and when he unthreads his fingers, I brace myself for what I have to do. Kazimir moans in Russian while his friends holler in encouragement, voicing it’s their turn next. The blood whooshes through my veins, and I count down. I need something to prepare me for what I’m about to do.

  Three…

  Two…

  One…

  I pull back, ensuring I have a firm grip, and when I do…I bite down. There is silence before an explosion erupts. Kazimir’s shrieks are bloodcurdling, and in some sick, perverse way, they’re music to my ears.