Saint: A Dark Romance (Saint and Sinners Book 1)

by Ruby Vincent

“You’re giving in to a couple of jokes like us?” That Sinjin was enjoying this was obvious to everyone he did and didn’t know was in the room. “So easily? I don’t believe it.”

  Easily? Shaking hands clutched my writhing stomach. Brutal had beat him for what felt like eons.

  “Break his thumb and middle finger.”

  “No, no, no!” His voice reached a new pitch. “I don’t know who it was, I s-swear. I needed someone to do the job and a friend said they could hook me up. He asked around and came back saying some guy in a bar told them the Merchants would take any smash-and-grab job that pays,” Raiden got out in a rush.

  “Which bar?” I heard Cash say.

  Slowly, I crept to the crack. The curled-up, broken man that was once named Cinco’s most eligible bachelor forced the reply through red-painted lips.

  “Shalimar’s.” Raiden clutched his fists to his chest. “They told him Memphis could get me in contact with a man named Killian Hunt. James & Co. Jewelers had to be the target because his security is a joke. Cheap cameras in the front room, but none in the side alley where he does his business with the Kings.

  “The Merchants are new. Clueless. Reckless,” he said. “You’d take the job, and if the Kings sought retribution, they’d come down on you and I’d be in the clear.”

  “And if we didn’t take the job?” Cash probed. “He said to make it look like we did.”

  “No. He told my friend you’d take it for sure. He didn’t say what to do or who to go to if you didn’t. Hazel’s expecting another chain in time for our engagement party.” He gazed at them through swelling lids. “Don’t you see? I didn’t have a choice.”

  “What was his name?”

  He tried to sit up and Sinjin kicked him back down. He slid across the drenched plastic. I couldn’t tell what was wine or what was blood.

  “Name!”

  “I don’t remember! Started with a K. K-Kevin? Kyle?”

  “Kieran.”

  “No.”

  “No?” Sinjin repeated.

  “It wasn’t Kieran. I’m not an idiot. Even I know that name.” A strange sound rattled from Raiden’s chest.

  Is he... laughing?

  “A guy named Kieran appearing in the right place at the right time to lend a hand? I would’ve dropped the job right there and then. Bought Hazel a thousand diamonds. Kieran’s name was never mentioned, but if he did orchestrate this...” A terrible smile spread across his face. “He’s played us all. Nothing that has happened—you turning me down, me pulling it off anyway, the five of us here tonight—is by chance. It’s all going according to his plan.”

  He laughed again. “Whatever big moves you were setting up in the shadows, Kieran has brought you into the light. He’ll destroy you. Stamp out your little girls’ after-school club like roaches beneath his boot.” Raiden rose up, kneeling at Sinjin’s feet. “My only regret, Sinjin, is that I won’t be there to see you die.”

  Sinjin bobbed his head, lips stuck out almost comically. “Well... you’re right about one thing.”

  He jabbed, plunging the jagged shards of the wine bottle’s remains in Raiden’s neck. The man fell over choking and gurgling, showering Sinjin in arterial spray.

  My scream leaked through my fingers. What did I do? What did I do?! I should have helped him. Stopped this! Raiden Spencer is dead and it’s all my fault.

  “Ugh.”

  I snapped up, eyes widening.

  “Uhhhh.”

  My forgotten companion reasserted her presence. Moaning, she tried to push up, lost her balance, and landed between the toilet and the tub with a smack that shotgunned my heart in my throat.

  I bolted, racing for the linen closet with a half-formed thought to hide myself inside.

  Bang!

  “Oh ho. What’s this?”

  It’s too late. Think. Think of something now! I narrowed on the small glass cabinet of perfumes and shaving creams. I latched on to the handle as hands grabbed and spun me around.

  “Get off!”

  “Bunny?”

  Sinjin didn’t spare a glance to the woman sleeping on the floor. He blocked her from view, standing before me as Brutal and the still unnamed man flanked him.

  I blinked rapidly, wondering for a desperate moment if panic was making me hallucinate.

  Brutal wore the simplest of suits to match the plainest black gloves. But his attempt to downgrade his appearance could go no further than his clothes. Long, fine lashes framed eyes the color of whiskey.

  Fine.

  Soft, sweeping hair. Gently sloping cheekbones. Plump, bee-stung lips. Everything about this man made you think of a deity sculpted by worshipping artistic hands, and nothing about him evoked savage beatings. Was impending death making me see angels?

  Shaking his head, Sinjin tsked. “Just couldn’t wait, could you?”

  “You killed him. You’re a Merchant. You’re a monster!”

  He shrugged and my gaze fell on the dark, wet patches on his suit. “Depends on your perspective. If you were listening, Bunny, you heard him admit he sparked an impending war to save himself a few bucks.” Sinjin smiled. “I ask you, who is the real monster?”

  “You!”

  He sighed. “What’s the point of a moral debate if you dig in without considering all sides? A bit close-minded, Adeline.”

  I tensed. Hearing the name I ordered him to use was worse—so much worse than bunny.

  “You know this girl, Sinjin?” Cash’s grip was a shackle around my wrists. “Where the hell did she come from?”

  “Wrong place, wrong time.”

  “What do we do with her?” The man had left the bed but calm cloaked him like he’d drift off to sleep any moment now. The face I peeked through the crack was dusted with a trimmed beard, adding a ruggedness that belied moss-green pools. “We can’t let her go.”

  “Hmm. A sweet little bunny hopped into the path of wolves. Do they go against their nature? Set the bunny loose to snitch to the fuzz?” He made big eyes, leaning back and waving his hands. “Or do they do what wolves do?” Sinjin put his face in mine. “Rip the pure white fur from her flesh.

  “How does the story end, Adeline?”

  My gaze was steady even as I shook in Cash’s hold. “If you think this is the part where I beg and plead and say I’ll forget what I saw tonight, I’ll have to disappoint you. You wouldn’t believe me anyway.” I lifted my chin. “Do what you’re going to do, Sinjin, but don’t touch her. She didn’t see anything. When she wakes up tomorrow, she won’t even remember the ride up the elevator.”

  Sinjin cocked his head. “Final words and you use them for someone else’s life? That’s a first.”

  “What’s it going to be?” Cash snapped. “Spencer’s bleeding out on the fucking carpet. We need to leave.”

  “Intriguing little bunny,” he whispered, running his bloody fingers down my cheek.

  I wrenched away, snarl leaking through my teeth. “Don’t touch me.”

  Sinjin was gone in a blink. He strode to the door, grabbing a towel on his way out, and tossed over his shoulder, “Let’s go. We’re taking the girl.”

  “Taking me?”

  Brutal got my other side. The two hauled me out of the bathroom, screeching the whole way.

  “Let me go!”

  Raiden Spencer lay on his plastic resting place—an unrecognizable collection of glass, bruises, and blood that had been freed from pain.

  I didn’t know what to think of the mess he had made for himself, or his taunting of danger to come right up to his end. All I knew was his death would not be mine. I had to get free.

  The music rushed into the room. Pounding on my eardrums. Covering my cries.

  I was carried out the door and into the hallway without a hitch in their step. “Kidnapping women something you do every day?!”

  Sinjin slid a smirk over his shoulder.

  The party was going strong. More people had arrived in the time I was trapped in the bathroom, and I could barely see the doo
r.

  The blue-haired demon parted the crowd effortlessly. The remains of their host lay a few feet away and none were the wiser. They danced and partied unaware of the tragedy about to careen their carefree lives off track.

  “Help!”

  A mound of muscle shifted to the side. Pressed against the wall, feverishly making out with a red-haired back-of-the-head, was a sequin romper and a pair of heels she borrowed from me.

  Sinjin closed on the knob and I thought fast. Heaving up in their grip, I kicked the statue. It toppled with a splitting crash that ripped Gianna and her date apart. Screaming, shouting, and dozens of eyes flying to me.

  Cash and Brutal dropped me. They slipped out of the door behind Sinjin, ducking the witnesses that now had my face burned into their memory.

  “Addy?” Gianna threw her arms around me. “What happened? Are you okay?”

  I buried my face in her neck. My knees shook struggling to hold me upright.

  “No. I’m not okay.”

  SINJIN

  The bunny scurried to the idling vehicle, holding tight to a buxom young thing in lethal heels. The cab peeled away from the curb and melded into traffic.

  “Do we follow her?” asked Cash.

  I shook my head. “Not tonight.”

  “She could be speeding to the police station.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Fuck it, Sinjin. Why wouldn’t she?”

  “Because making an enemy of a gang full of masked men isn’t a smart thing to do.”

  “She’s seen our faces. She’s heard our names. She saw you kill one of the richest men in Cinco City. We’re not masked anymore.”

  I nodded, fixed on the glowing red lights that was her cab. “I didn’t say we weren’t going to grab her. We know about her too. She was melting chocolate and pouring drinks. A friend of Spencer’s wouldn’t be able to find the kitchen if it fell out of their ass. Adeline was working the party. Track her down.”

  “And when we do?” Mercer drawled. His reflection leaned on the car door with his eyes closed. “Will you kill her then?”

  “I haven’t decided yet.” My reflection flashed all of his teeth, grinning. “The fun’s in not knowing.”

  Chapter Three

  “—found murdered in his downtown penthouse. Witnesses say they spotted him at various times during the night, but can’t recall the moment he left the party or who may have been with him. Mr. Spencer’s fiancée, Hazel O’Hare, is devastated,” said the reporter. “She asks that anyone who has information regarding that night, please come forward.”

  Gianna took the remote from me, shutting off the television. “Addy, what are you going to do?”

  It had been a week since that ill-fated night, and she had asked me that question every day for the last seven days.

  I went to my closet and pulled out my work clothes.

  “They’re going to come after you,” she pressed. “This wasn’t gangbanger-on-gangbanger beef. You witnessed the Merchants kill Raiden Spencer. They can’t have you walking around free.”

  “It’s been a week and I haven’t gone to the cops. They’ll know that by now.”

  A hand gripped my shoulder, gently turning me around. “Why did they try to take you? This... Sinjin... could have killed you right there and then. Why didn’t he?”

  That was the question that had been plaguing my waking and sleeping mind. Despite the risk to him, the violent, brutish thug that came on to me within thirty seconds of learning my name, tried to whisk me away. Why? What did they plan on doing to me when they got me alone?

  “He said I intrigued him,” I rasped.

  Hard lines appeared around pursed lips. Concern shone in her eyes, shining a spotlight on my fears.

  “They won’t come after me.” I spun back, yanking out my polo and khakis. “I haven’t gone to the police and I’m not going to. Sinjin, Cash, Brutal, Mystery Man, and their band of masked Merry Men have nothing to fear from me. I’m going to cook my food, live in my shitty apartment, and go about my life. I will,” I repeated.

  “You shouldn’t go to work today. Tell Salvatore you’re taking a long overdue vacation.”

  “I can’t. Understandably, we never got paid for working the party. My dad’s sleeping on a torn-up mattress and rent’s due in a week and a half. I’m picking up extra shifts until I pass out on the stove.”

  She hugged me from behind, resting her cheek on my shoulder. “Fuck the rent and fuck Raul. I mean it, Addy. I’ll kick him to one of his friends’ couches and you can stay with me. I’ll feel better if you’re with me. If the Merchants break in the front door, we both know Corinne and Alisha aren’t throwing themselves in their paths.”

  “But you will?”

  “Without a thought.”

  I hugged her tight, loving her so much at that moment I was tempted to say yes.

  “Thanks, G, but that’s the reason I can’t move in with you. If—” I swallowed and tried again. “If they come after me, I’m putting you in danger.”

  “I’m going to work with you at least,” she said. “Picking you up after too.”

  “You don’t have to, G. Seriously, I’ll be okay.”

  I was hauled around to face her again. “I’m not asking. There’s a body in a downtown morgue that’s been beat to shit and stabbed in the neck with a broken bottle. Until we’re sure the Merchants haven’t marked you for next, I’m sticking close.”

  I found myself nodding. “Alright. But you have to let me get ready, or I won’t have a job to go to.”

  Gianna let me go. She sat on my bed, turning the television on to the report running on every news station.

  Raiden Spencer.

  SALVATORE’S WAS A HALF an hour bus ride from my humble digs, located in the Waterford borough. In my borough.

  Waterford was where I grew up. My former elementary school was a few streets over from the restaurant. My all-time favorite gelato shop sat across from my bus stop. Waterford rent prices drove me out after college, but this was no less my neighborhood. When I was running Salvatore’s, it’d be official.

  “Bye, G,” I said as we hit the pavement. Gianna’s hotel was only a twenty-minute walk from Salvatore’s, so I hadn’t put her too far out of her way. “I’ll text you if I’m running late.”

  We kissed cheeks and then I headed inside, looping around the alley to enter through the back door. Colorful stained glass set in red brick served as my backdrop. Salvatore’s offered a high-class menu and the boss underwent massive renovations—at Ryan’s orders—to provide the atmosphere. The restaurant I started working in during college looked like an old-school pizzeria. Checkered tiles and all.

  This new-and-improved Salvatore’s spread white linens on the tables and placed a single lit candle on top. The wooden chairs were replaced with upholstered pieces, and the entire kitchen had been gutted and replaced with the newest and best. Second best to only Raiden Spencer’s kitchen.

  Don’t go there, Addy.

  I stepped into the chorus of clanging pans, sizzling onions, shouted orders, and disinfectant. Tension leaked out of my body like it was never there. This was my domain. My home. Nothing can touch me in the kitchen.

  “Adeline!” Ryan latched on to me from the other side of two stoves, five cooks, and the warmers. “Where have you been?”

  I checked my watch. A move he caught.

  “On time is an hour late in this business,” he barked. “I needed your help to scale the fish and prep the marinade.”

  A task he hadn’t bothered to inform me of beforehand, and yet I said, “Yes, Chef. Sorry, Chef.”

  “The fish. Now.”

  Snagging my coat off the rack, I entered the fray, getting the halibut from the walk-in, and beginning the cold, slimy task of stripping their scales and filleting them from the bones. Normally a job for a kitchen grunt, but not in Ryan’s kitchen. As his sous chef, I and I alone did the prep for his specials.

  I woke up at the butt-crack of dawn to wrangle with
the fishmongers. I drove out of the city to a farm that sells fresh, organic herbs. I stayed until three in the morning to taste-test as he worked to perfect a recipe.

  Man, I loved this job.

  “Adeline.”

  Hands covered in fish, I just opened my mouth. Stevie popped the serving spoon in my mouth.

  “Delicious, Stevie. Couple sprigs of thyme and the soup’s done.”

  “Yes, Chef.”

  “Lorenzo,” I called. “Where are my potatoes?”

  “Coming now, Chef.”

  The nonstop on-your-feet hustle of work sucked me in. I cooked at my station while simultaneously barking orders and fulfilling my destiny as Ryan’s bitch.

  “Adeline, mince the shallots and toast the sesame seeds.” He blew into my space and dipped a pinky in my marinade. “Too much lemon juice.” The bowl was snatched from me and dumped in the trash. “Start again.”

  I fished the bowl out of the garbage, washed it, and did as commanded. Ryan Sinclair’s tyranny over my life didn’t bother me in the least—though Gianna had plenty to say about it. She thought I put up with him because I low-key had a crush on him. Broad shoulders tucked inside that chef’s jacket. Ebony curls sprouted under his hair, and classic good looks couldn’t be hidden by his perpetual frown. On top of all that, he could cook. On paper, he should be my type, but that wasn’t why I endured him.

  A kitchen was built on hierarchy and everyone knew their place within it. Those under me did what I said without question and I obeyed my chef with the same respect.

  This was the order in the chaos. The rule of law beneath unfettered creativity. If the entire world was like a professional kitchen, fewer men would die with a bottle in their necks.

  Ryan was on me before I set my spoon down. He took it from me and tasted.

  “Perfect, Adeline.”

  I feel no shame to admit I beamed like a six-year-old who nailed her first ballet recital. To win any measure of approval from him was reason to feel ten feet tall. Sinclair was a genius wooed into working here with the promise he’d have full reign over the kitchen and front of house. I thought he’d give me the boot when he first arrived. I worked hard, proved myself, and Ryan came to love that I was “fresh and unspoiled” by the culinary world. He dubbed me a blank canvas on which to pour his talent.