by Monica James
“Zoey,” Saint scolds, stunned. “What is wrong with you?” I can understand his confusion because his impression was evidently wrong. “You wanted me to do this. You told me you wanted to go home.”
She rolls her eyes, eyes so much like her brothers. “Aleksei is my home.”
The man in question grins, and I instantly have the urge to slap the smugness from his cheeks. “You must be Willow,” he says with a slight accent, gently removing himself from Zoey’s claws. He is well spoken.
If looks could kill, I would be a smoldering pile of ashes as Zoey glares.
I dare not breathe as he steps closer. He is tall, and his broad shoulders make him all the more intimidating. “It’s lovely to meet you. I have been waiting for this moment for weeks.” His attention snaps to Saint, hinting waiting isn’t usually a word in his vocabulary.
“There were some setbacks,” Saint says, drawing me into his side protectively. The action doesn’t go unnoticed by Aleksei.
He eyeballs the connection, before slowly rivaling Saint’s glower. “Yes, well you can tell me all about it when we get on the yacht.”
That sounds like an awful idea. Saint agrees as we both stand our ground.
A sulking Zoey notices Saint shadowing me also, and a wicked grin tips at her red lips. She doesn’t see me as a threat any longer.
“Is there a problem?” Aleksei asks; his icy voice filled with warning.
As much as I appreciate Saint’s protection, we can’t stay here. I gently shrug out of his hold, nodding subtly to hint I’m okay. He is seconds from exploding.
“No,” I reply, deciding to keep my replies to a minimum.
“Good girl.” Aleksei’s piercing blue eyes reflect dominance and control, but when he looks at me, I don’t see complete coldness. There seems to be some humanity lurking beneath the shadows.
He reaches out to brush the hair from my cheeks. I stand still, my chest rising and falling rapidly. “You’re absolutely beautiful.”
A growl slashes the air, and I know without looking it’s come from Saint.
This moment is suffocating me, and what I see next has me yelping and raising my hands in surrender.
It happens so quickly.
One second, I’m facing a gun-toting Zoey, and the next, Saint is shielding me, holding a gun of his own, the gun he had hidden in his shorts in the small of his back. “Zoey!” he shouts, protecting me with his back as he shoves me behind him. “Put the gun down.”
Aleksei turns to look at Zoey, clearly surprised she had the balls to pull a gun on me. His attention then rivets on Saint. This world of madness is one he has created. And when he smirks, it appears he wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Move, Saint. I don’t want to hurt you,” Zoey snarls.
“What is the matter with you? I did what you asked.” Saint beseeches her to tell him what’s going on.
I risk a glance around his body, and what I see, terrifies me. Zoey cackles, waving the gun like it’s a toy. “Yes, I asked you to do this so I could fucking kill this bitch. Alek is mine. And any whore who thinks they can replace me will suffer the same fate as this bitch.”
Aleksei couldn’t look happier. His project has turned rouge. Saint was right—Popov is the most potent drug of all.
“So you never wanted to go home?” he asks, his voice filled with utter defeat.
She snickers, utterly amused at his gullibility. “No, brother. I lied.”
And that’s it.
No excuses to pardon her behavior. She is a desperate woman, and it appears no one, not even her brother, will stand in her way as she cocks her gun. “Now move. I’m done playing nice.”
I huddle behind Saint, petrified because there is no way Zoey is of sound mind. Saint was right. She is broken, but I don’t think she cared being carved into this twisted person. I can’t believe I felt sorry for her. I can’t even imagine how betrayed Saint feels because all of this was for nothing.
Saint steadies his arm, training his gun on his sister. “You’re sick, Zoey. Let me help you.”
“I don’t want your help!” she screams. “I told you to go home, that I was happy with Alek, but you always have to be the good guy, don’t you? But it’s too late…you had your chance to help me, and you blew it. Alek saved me. Not you.”
She has played on Saint’s insecurities, ones which were the reason he chose this life in the first place. He did all of this for her…
“You ungrateful bitch.” It’s out before I can stop myself, but how dare she. This isn’t Saint’s fault, and I’ll be damned if I allow her to make him think otherwise.
Aleksei turns to look at me, lips parted. He likes what he sees. Goose bumps, not of the good kind, coat my skin as I suddenly feel like prey.
“Enough,” he says, appearing bored by the melodramatics. “Give me the gun, Zoey.”
I can’t hide my surprise, which seems to please Aleksei.
“What?” Zoey whines. “No, I want that whore dead!”
The air falls silent because Zoey has just done something which she shouldn’t have—she disobeyed her master.
“Give me the gun,” he repeats slowly. There is warning lacing every word.
When I don’t hear her argue, I risk a glance around Saint, who stands rigid, transfixed by the sight of Zoey walking submissively toward Aleksei. Her eyes seem glazed over like someone in a trance, but I suppose she is—she’s spellbound by this asshole.
She passes him the gun, then drops to her knees beside him.
The sight sickens me. He begins to pat her hair like a beloved dog. She nuzzles into his leg, moaning. “Now, as entertaining as this all is, we have a deadline. So get on the yacht.” He points the gun at Saint, who stands, unmoving, his own gun still raised.
Something is about to explode, and I’m afraid to see what the outcome is.
“You disappoint me, брат.”
“I am not your brother,” Saint spits, his aim directed on Popov.
“You’re right…” The noise hits me before I realize that a shot has been fired. When a pained grunt leaves Saint, and his gun drops into the sand, I know he’s the one who’s been shot.
“No!” I scream, attempting to turn him around to see if he’s okay. But he shrugs from my hold. He’s still standing, but he’s clutching his bloody shoulder.
“It’s okay, ahгел. Just a flesh wound,” he assures me with a firm nod.
Zoey’s maniacal laughter reveals she and Aleksei are a perfect match—a match made in hell.
Aleksei appears unperplexed at the sight. “You’re not my brother. You’re my fucking employee! So do what I say and get on that goddamn boat before I make you choose who I kill. I only need one of them.”
Saint is barely holding it together, and when Aleksei raises his gun, intent on shooting him again, I quickly run in front of Saint and drop to my knees. I’ve caught Aleksei off guard as he takes a small step backward. Saint stands behind me, placing his hand on my upper shoulder.
“Well, this is a pleasant surprise. Maybe I will spare your life, after all, Saint. You’ve taught her well. And ahгел…I like it. It suits her.”
“Thank you…мастер.” I now know why Saint asked me to call him this. He was preparing me for this moment in time, for the moment when I met my master.
Aleksei’s mouth pops open before thunderous laughter erupts. “You never fail me, Saint. Sorry about shooting you. It’s just a scratch,” he flippantly says, waving his gun in the air. “Let’s go. We have so much to discuss.” It appears he wants to know everything there is to know about his new plaything.
He pockets the gun, before gripping Zoey by the back of her neck. He isn’t gentle, but she moans deeply. “You must be punished for your behavior.”
“Yes,” Zoey whimpers in anticipation, standing when he yanks her up by the hair. Is this what I’m to become?
Saint’s fingers squeeze my shoulder as he watches Aleksei abuse his sister, but he doesn’t move to help her. A
leksei drags her toward the yacht by her hair.
“Oh, god,” I cry, blinking back my tears.
“It’s okay, ahгел. I won’t let him hurt you.” I place my hand over his, needing the connection more than ever.
“What about you?” I whisper because who is going to protect him.
My question remains unanswered because when Aleksei gestures with his head that we’re to follow, we have no other choice but obey. I’m about to pocket Saint’s gun, but Aleksei tsks me. I raise my hands in surrender as he’s shown what a good shot he is.
Saint helps me stand, but I suddenly remember Harriet Pot Pie. She’s better off here anyway because where we’re going, I wouldn’t wish upon my worst enemy. “Bye, Harriet Pot Pie,” I whisper, a single tear scoring my cheek. I quickly brush it away with the back of my hand.
“She’ll be okay,” Saint assures me as we hobble to the yacht.
Turning, I take one last look at the place I once thought was hell on earth, but as Aleksei presents me his hand, offering me assistance as I board the yacht, I know this place wasn’t so bad. Saint and I made it ours, but now, nothing will be ours ever again.
I slip my hand into Aleksei’s, whose eyes flicker with excitement. When I make my way to the top, I quickly turn to help Saint as he’s wounded. But he doesn’t need my help. He was always the strong one.
Aleksei makes his way over to the control, humming happily while Zoey kneels by his feet. Saint’s sharp eyes scan our surroundings, looking for an escape, but when six men appear from inside the galley, we know we don’t have a fighting chance.
“Buckle up,” Aleksei singsongs as the motor stirs to life.
One of the men holds up a length of rope. “Nice to see you, Saint.” Saint lunges forward, but the man knocks him out cold, and he falls to the deck with a thud.
I scream, intent on killing this bastard with my bare hands, but he apparently has no qualms about hitting women and punches me in the nose. I stumble backward, cupping my face, but he shoves me down. My ass hits a chair, and he goes about tying me to it.
I glare at Aleksei, strategizing ways I’m going to kill him. He peers over his shoulder and has the gall to wink. My rebellion seems to rouse him, and he smirks. “You and I are going to have so much fun.”
With Saint unconscious at my feet, I allow myself to be kidnapped yet again, and just how this tale began…I’m tied up, on a yacht, destination unknown.
FALLEN SAINT, Volume Two coming July 2019!
Read other books by Monica James
My wonderful husband, Daniel. I love you. Thank you for believing in me even when I didn’t believe in myself.
My ever-supporting parents. You guys are the best. I am who I am because of you. I love you.
My agent, Kimberly Brower from Brower Literary & Management. Thank you for your patience and thank you for being an amazing human being.
My editor, Jenny Sims. What can I say other than I LOVE YOU! Thank you for everything.
My proofreaders—Lisa Edward—More Than Words Proofreading, and Virginia Tesi Carey. You guys are the best! Ps. Lisa, you are amazing!
Sommer Stein, you NAILED this cover! Thank you for being so patient and making the process so fun.
A special shout-out to: Christina and Lauren, Elle Kennedy, Lisa Edward, SC Stephens, Vi Keeland, Penelope Ward, Adriane Leigh, Pam Godwin, Natasha Preston, Beverly Preston, Natasha Madison, Len Webster, K. Bromberg, Tina Gephart, Rachel Brookes, Debra Anastasia, Stina Lindenblatt, Sylvain Reynard, J.L. Drake, Jay McLean, Heidi McLaughlin, Audrey Carlan, BJ Harvey, K.A. Tucker, Kylie Scott, Mia Sheridan, Helena Hunting, Tijan, Kimberly Whalen, Gemma, Louise, Heyne, Random House, Kinneret Zmora, Hugo & Cie, Planeta, Art Eternal, Carbaccio, Fischer, Harper Brazil, Bookouture, Egmont Bulgaria, Brilliance Publishing, Hope Editions, USA TODAY/ Happy Ever After, Buzzfeed, BookBub, PopSugar, Love Letters Convention—Berlin, Aestas Book Blog, Natasha is a Book Junkie, Hugues De Saint Vincent, Nikki McCombe, Mary Matta, Romance Writers of Australia, Paris, New York, Danielle Sanchez, Sarah Sentz, Ria Alexander, Rosa Sharon, Amy Jennings, Gel Ytayz, Jennifer Spinninger, Vanessa Silva Martins, Cheri Grand Anderman, Lauren Rosa, Kristin Dwyer, and Nina Bocci.
To the endless blogs that have supported me since day one—You guys rock my world.
My reader group; My Sinners—sending you all a big kiss.
My beautiful family—Mum, Papa, my sister—Fran, Matt, Samantha, Amelia, Gayle, Peter, Luke, Leah, Jimmy, Jack, Shirley, Michael, Rob, Elisa, Evan, Alex, Francesca, and my aunties, uncles, and cousins—I am the luckiest person alive to know each and every one of you. You brighten up my world in ways I honestly cannot express.
Samantha and Amelia— I love you both so very much.
To my family in Holland and Italy, and abroad. Sending you guys much love and kisses.
Zia Rosetta and Zia Giuseppina—you are in our hearts. Always.
My fur babies— mamma loves you so much! Buckwheat, you are my best buddy. Dacca, I will always protect you from the big bad Bellie. Mitch, refer to Dacca’s comment. Jag, you’re a wombat in disguise. Bellie, you’re a devil in disguise. And Ninja, thanks for watching over me.
To anyone I have missed, I’m sorry! It wasn’t intentional!
Last but certainly not least, I want to thank YOU! Thank you for welcoming me into your hearts and homes. My readers are the BEST readers in this entire universe! Love you all!
Monica James spent her youth devouring the works of Anne Rice, William Shakespeare, and Emily Dickinson.
When she is not writing, Monica is busy running her own business, but she always finds a balance between the two. She enjoys writing honest, heartfelt, and turbulent stories, hoping to leave an imprint on her readers. She draws her inspiration from life.
She is a bestselling author in the U.S.A., Australia, Canada, France, Germany, Israel, and The U.K.
Monica James resides in Melbourne, Australia, with her wonderful family, and menagerie of animals. She is slightly obsessed with cats, chucks, and lip gloss, and secretly wishes she was a ninja on the weekends.
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