Cash: A Dark Romance (Saint and Sinners Book 2)

by Ruby Vincent

  My father was right like he was in all things. For Killian, I bent. I unopened the only secret that made the others worth keeping and laid it bare for his judgement. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe Killian, Sinjin, Mercer, or Brutal could love the creature. It was that she wasn’t the one they chose. For once, it was regular old Adeline Redgrave, who was second-place to drugs for her mother. Second to Kieran for her father. Second in the kitchen. Second in life.

  First to the Merchants.

  They saw something special in Adeline, and for the first time, I loved being her. She was no longer the person I was supposed to be, but finally, the person I was. Kind. Fierce. Moral. Happy. I wished to be her for a little while longer.

  But vacation’s over now. I poked between the seats, invading the driver’s personal space as we got off the express into Harlow. The real Addy’s back, and it’s been so long since she’s made a grown man scream.

  Sinjin’s a given. Hopefully the rest of my boys still love me covered in blood.

  “WE’VE GOTTA GET THE fuck out of here!” Mercer bellowed.

  A bottle exploded, showering us in vodka and glass.

  “Any suggestions!” I returned. “If I got behind the VIP couches, I could pick off the men on the door, but our friends upstairs would put a bullet in my head first!”

  The four up top were our main problem. They couldn’t get an angle to shoot us outright. Their main method of shooting wild at the bottles and shelves above our heads was still an effective second-best option. Trying to lift up more than a few inches to fire was a death sentence. We were trapped, and our bullets were running out.

  “Where’s Enzo?” Sinjin peered over the tub of mini umbrellas. “He doesn’t get away! Whatever happens, you track him down and get that ledger.” Sinjin faced us, the look in his eyes pinning us to the floor. “Find the bastard who had my father killed, and you tell him why. You tell him St. John Bellisario claims his death in the name of Father Paul Bellisario. Swear it!”

  A mission for the survivor. If there was one.

  Faces grim, we nodded.

  “Tear out my parents’ page and burn it,” I said. “Free them.”

  Brutal said two words. The only two he needed to say.

  “My sister.”

  I clapped his shoulder, looking to Mercer.

  “Don’t look at me,” he said. “I’m not saying my last words, or passing off what I’ve fucking stayed alive all this time to see through. And neither are you! Pull yourselves together. We’re getting out of this.”

  “I called Pistol and Cain,” Sinjin said. “Nothing. They’re dead.”

  “I’ve got an idea,” Mercer said. “If it works, we’ll have seconds to move behind the couches. Be ready.”

  Mercer snatched one of the few remaining intact bottles off the counter. Glass crunched under his feet as he crawled to the sink. He grabbed a washcloth. I realized what he was doing immediately.

  “You’re setting fire to the building with us inside!”

  “Needs must.” He whipped out his lighter, lit the end, and hefted the bottle over our heads.

  “Hey!” someone shouted.

  Mercer let it fly.

  I didn’t watch its flight, but I knew when it struck. A flash of brilliance lit the club brighter than the dark hole had ever been.

  Cries sounded, and then the slam of the doors flying open and shut.

  Did Enzo get away?

  “Come on,” Mercer hissed. “Come on!”

  The ceiling opened up.

  Wetness showered us, soaking us through in seconds.

  “Now!”

  Vaulting over the bar top, we sprinted to the leather couches arranged in a circle for the VIP area. Brutal wasn’t with us. A gun nestled somewhere in his backpack, and it wouldn’t be used unless it was a last resort. He had his own plan for putting his skills to use.

  “Shoot them!”

  There was no mistaking that voice. Enzo. He hadn’t cut and run like a coward.

  Which meant this fight wasn’t over.

  Sinjin hollered, neck snapping to the side. He fell hard behind the couch, sprawling flat on the floor.

  He didn’t get up.

  “Sinjin!”

  I dropped behind cover, hauling my brother up. Blood and water soaked his face—flowing free from the vicious gash in his temple.

  “Wake up, man,” I patted his cheeks. “Wake up!”

  “There’s no way out, Merchants,” Enzo called from the depths of the club. “I could lock you inside with the fire, or pick you off running out. Drop the guns! Surrender to me. You’ll survive.”

  “Grandpa Angelo gave us the same speech,” Mercer replied.

  Looking out, I watched a banger run out from behind a column. He bore down on Brutal’s hiding place, racing through the bar entrance.

  “Argh!” He flung back, legs flying up in the air. The landing shook the floor, and his cries and grunts soon followed.

  “Rico? Rico!” Enzo yelled.

  Through the water, flames, and smoke, I sought Enzo. Moving masses ducked behind columns, platforms, and the DJ booth. I flicked up, catching a glimpse in sudden light to the sniper aimed at my head.

  I squeezed off a shot. The gun crashed to the floor. Its owner tipped over the side with it.

  Another second-floor shooter abruptly spun—winged by a bullet that crumpled him on his ass.

  Tight jeans and a shirt saying “Who’s Your Mac & Cheese Daddy?” stepped over him.

  ADELINE

  I pried the gun free of the dead Merchant’s hands.

  “Lucky, I can’t wait for you,” I said. “When you get here, I want two men on each door where ours were supposed to be. There are no windows in this place. Coming in will flood the club with light, announcing your presence. Come in here when you’re ready to fight.”

  “Understood.”

  “Do you all know what Lorenzo Bianchi looks like?”

  “Of course.”

  “Do not under any circumstances kill him. Do not. If you can’t follow that order under the haze of bullets, stay the fuck outside and knock them off running out the door. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I shoved a spare gun in my waistband. “You better be here in the next six minutes.”

  “Working on it.”

  A chime beeped in my ear.

  “Six minutes,” I warned.

  I hung up and answered Gianna.

  “Addy? What’s going on? Are you okay?”

  “I’m at Infinity Nightclub in Harlow,” I rushed out. “The boys walked into a trap. I’m listening to alarms and gunshots right outside the door. Get here as fast as you can. We need backup.”

  “On my way.”

  I tapped end, shoving it in my pocket. Grabbing the knob, I flung inside—gun aloft.

  The horrible scene unfolded before me in an instant. Over a dozen men spraying the VIP lounge with bullets. A hissing, resilient fire fought to spread from the dance floor—held back by rushing jets of water simultaneously saving my boys lives and killing them.

  Once their ammo ran out, the fire alone would hold the Kings back. When that was out, they were dead.

  Sunlight rushed in with me, illuminating the nuisances in my way. One suddenly fell over the balcony. I got a line on the other and killed him.

  I stepped over the body as the final two came for me.

  “Adeline?” Killian cried.

  “Hi, baby. Sorry I’m late.”

  Bang! Bang!

  They dropped one on top of the other. Dead.

  The tide turned.

  Killian and Mercer stood and began evening the odds of the shootout. One King cried out. Another splashed face-first in a pool of red.

  The wall exploded above my head. I spun, killed the thug lining up another shot, and bolted—charging for the staircase. From above, I counted six men aimed at Mercer and Killian, shooting through the wall of fire.

  Where’s Sinjin? Brutal?

&
nbsp; A seventh man broke from cover of a column. He fired at me running past, dropping me on my ass. My foot slipped. I skidded down the staircase, my back scraping painfully on the steps.

  I fell in a heap at the bottom of the steps. My attacker leaned over the bar, firing wildly into the space like a lunatic.

  What the hell is he—?

  Brutal jumped up. Seizing his gun arm, he yanked him over the counter and the two disappeared.

  Six left. We have a chance.

  Using the rail, I pulled myself up. I zeroed in on a blonde head.

  Mercer flew off his feet. He slammed into the wall and sunk down, smearing a trail of blood.

  “No! Mercer!”

  The scream turned half of Enzo’s men on me. They fired without prejudice, sending me running behind the bar. I rounded the counter, and slipped.

  “Ahh!” Strong arms caught me before I hit the floor.

  My Brutal was brains and brawn. He spread out his plastic—slick with water and wine—and laid the trap I fell into.

  “Thank you,” I said, cradled to his chest. “And I will explain everything. Right now, you just need to know I didn’t leave you. I never would.”

  A soft kiss brushed my forehead, spreading warmth to my chilled body.

  “There are six men left,” I said.

  He shook his head. Putting me down, he held up seven fingers.

  “Enzo.”

  Brutal nodded.

  “Mercer’s hurt. I think Sinjin’s down. We have to end this.”

  He looked down at the gun in my hand.

  “I can explain this too.” I got to my feet. “Later.”

  The advancing six edged around the flames, narrowing on Killian. The fire was beginning to die down. Four guys fired while the two scooped water on it, aiding the sprinklers too efficiently in their job.

  Breathing deep, I steadied my pulse, sensing the calming pace of beats.

  Thump.

  Bang! Bang!

  Thump.

  Two kissed the floor with matching holes in their skulls.

  I laughed. “Whoo! I thought you guys would put up more of a fight than—”

  The next thing I knew, they were on me. Abandoning Killian, they jumped me, hauling me over the bar. An arm was around my throat and a gun to my temple in the time it took Brutal and Killian to shout.

  “Enough!” The final man emerged from a hallway. “Toss the gun, or Nicco splatters her brains on the bar. Do it now!”

  The doors burst open.

  Men in masks poured in, led by a figure in plaid.

  One.

  Three.

  Five.

  Seven.

  I dropped my weight. My slippery body escaped his hold, robbing him of a hostage.

  The Merchants let loose.

  One of my would-be captors fell to be stomped by the others running for the back door.

  And Lorenzo “Enzo” Bianchi.

  Leader of the Kings.

  Holder of the ledger.

  He turned tail and fled upstairs.

  I plucked the gun off the body. My shot clipped his leg, giving him the same unwelcome raking down the stairs I took.

  “Ahh!” he bellowed.

  Rising up, I strode over to him. His cries choked on the shoe to his throat. He scrambled to aim his gun.

  I took it off him, and cracked the hilt over his head. Enzo went limp—head lolling.

  “Hush, please,” I told him. “I’m about to get in a tiff with my boyfriends.”

  I tipped my head to the fire sprinklers. The fire was out. Enough with the rain.

  “Lucky, shut that off.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He ran off to do as ordered.

  “Ma’am?”

  I faced Killian. He stood up. An unsteady Sinjin hung off his shoulder, his face was a mask of gore. Coming slow behind him, Mercer clutched his bleeding arm. The four of them faced me—ranging from blank to surprised to furious.

  The sprinklers abruptly shut off.

  I heaved a sigh. “Alright with the look, Killian. I admit it. I left some stuff out. But can you blame me? Sometimes the truth is better in bite-sized amounts.”

  “What... stuff?” Sinjin rasped.

  “I didn’t steal your money and run away,” I said. “Killian said that so he could lock me up and find out my true motives after he discovered I blew up a scheming bitch.”

  Dumbfounded was the correct term for the expressions on their faces as they looked from me to Killian.

  “And it was a waste of time. Everything you said last night was bullshit,” Killian replied. “You—”

  “No,” I broke in. “When I was thirteen years old, my father and I did hunt down every man who dare put their hands on me. I just left out the part that I was hardly scarred for life.” I laughed. “That was the first time I felt true power. The rush of blood on my hands. Weighing a life on the balance of my scales and delivering justice. There’s nothing quite like it.”

  I winked at Sinjin. “You understand.”

  “Ignore my semi, Bunny. I’m leaning toward being angry with you.”

  “Why?”

  “For keeping this incredibly delicious side of you to yourself.”

  “Sinjin!” Killian barked.

  “I doubt your reasons were pure,” Saint continued. “Why have you been lying to us?”

  “I love you,” I said. “That is true. It’s the purest thing I’ve ever felt, and I never lied about it. I knew it’d be a mistake to come back to you.” I slid to Killian. “But I couldn’t take another minute being a weepy, soaking-my-pillow, living-on-ice-cream mess for missing you guys. Even though I knew you’d discover the truth about me sooner rather than later, and I might lose you anyway. One more night was worth it.”

  Killian’s jaw ticced. I watched his struggle to not let my words reach him.

  “Again,” Killian said. “Why did you lie if you love us so much?”

  “Ah. See, this is where it gets tricky, and again I’d like to remind you, I didn’t technically lie. My father was a gangster for a gang called the Lords, and while their forgotten history doesn’t matter to anyone else. It’s defined me. It’s the reason all of this started.

  “And the reason why when it came time to choose between love and the ledger. I chose both.” I shrugged. “Why shouldn’t I? A real queen doesn’t choose between the crown and that naughty, smirking courtesan. I won’t either.”

  “The ledger?”

  “Courtesan?” Saint muttered.

  “I’ve always known about the ledger.” I met their eyes in turn. “It’s mine. My birthright. There was never going to be any outcome of events where you guys got your hands on it, and I didn’t take it from you.”

  Killian’s lips peeled from his teeth. To be fair, the others weren’t looking too pleased either.

  “So, that’s what this is about,” Mercer said.

  I ignored Enzo slapping at my calf.

  “You used us to get to the ledger.”

  “We used each other,” I corrected. “Or have you conveniently forgotten about a certain auction, pervert billionaire, and a charity event where you made me stalk a middle-aged man and his kid. You were happy enough to use me when it suited you.”

  “That’s different,” Killian snapped.

  “How?”

  “We weren’t planning on stabbing you in the fucking back!”

  “Neither was I. We’d all get what we want from this,” I said. “Sinjin, we’ll find the person who had your father killed and serve his punishment together. Killian, I’d free you and your parents permanently. Mercer. Brutal, whatever it is you’re after, I’ll give it to you.”

  I held up a finger. “As long as you understand, the ledger is mine. Cinco City is mine. You, my loves, will help me rule it.”

  “How can you say you love us?” Killian asked. “You only came here to get to Bianchi first.”

  “I came here to save your lives,” I cried. “I remembered what was off about the night
Killian and I went on our date. There was a car parked on the street. The same car that Killian said had been following him when we drove to La Roche’s house.

  “Today, it came back to me. La Roche’s man shot at us, and all the crap he fed Killian was just that. La Roche is still under Kieran’s, or I should say Enzo’s thumb.”

  I waved my gun at the slack-jawed man under my shoe.

  “He was gift-wrapping you on a platter for Enzo and, you’re welcome, by the way. I lost my mind trying to... get to... you...”

  I drifted off. Five pairs of eyes glanced down.

  Enzo was shaking. Bucking. Convulsing. Smacking the hand not around my ankle on the floor.

  He laughed so hard, his trouble with breathing wasn’t due to me.

  “La— La Roche told you... I was Kieran?” he wheezed.

  His uproarious howls echoed in the club.

  “What’s so funny?” Sinjin asked.

  “Me? Kieran? Do you have shit between your ears? How could I be Kieran?”

  “You grave-robbed Angelo after he turned up a bloated corpse,” I said. “It secured your position as leader of the— Stop laughing!”

  Enzo wiped a tear from his eyes. “I secured my position the old-fashioned way, sweetheart. I had Parker and Jameson killed. Then, I tracked down one or three of Pais’s illegitimate bastards and threatened to run them over on the playground if he didn’t fall in line.

  “I’m not Kieran, and I don’t have the ledger. Neither did Angelo.” He shook his head, glaring at us like we were the fools while he was flat out on his back. “Don’t you get it? Richard La Roche is Kieran.”

  I stumbled back, falling off his neck. Enzo pushed up and dusted himself off. He smoothed down his damp, wrinkled suit.

  “Where was I?” he continued with a grin. “Oh, yes. I was explaining how we both got played. La Roche wanted this. For both groups of us to come here and blow each other away. I should’ve seen it coming. He wasn’t very happy when I discovered he was Kieran, and told him if he didn’t cut the casino split in our favor, I’d tell the whole of Cinco underground who he was. He wouldn’t survive a day.”

  “How?” I croaked. I couldn’t get more out.

  “In one part, you were right. I kept track of Angelo’s finances. I knew the apartments, warehouses, and dependents left off the tax return. I ransacked them looking for something I could use to take over. I found his notes on Kieran.