by Ruby Vincent
At this rate, I thought to his impersonal space, I’m better off with the direct approach.
“Why St. John?” I asked. “Why not John or even Saint? Is it a family name?”
“No.”
“Are your parents from overseas?”
Sinjin set down his spoon and reached for the water. “Why would they be?”
“St. John isn’t a common name in the States. I assume your folks are from a place with a strong Catholic population.”
“Europe,” he said.
“Is that where they’re from?” I asked, sitting up straighter.
“No.”
I huffed. “Want to help me out here?”
Sinjin chuckled. “That’s not how it works in an interrogation, Bunny.”
“This isn’t an interrogation. I’m trying to get to know you better.” My eyes drifted up. “A cross hangs over your bed. I think your parents were religious. What happened?” I asked. “Were they struck down in some way that made you lose faith in God and humanity? Is that how you became Sinjin, leader of the Merchants?”
He thrust out his bowl. “Get me some more of this.”
I plucked it from him and placed it firmly on the nightstand. Planting my hands on either side of his hips, I bore into that amused expression. “Why St. John? It’s a simple question. One that can’t be used against you in any way. Just tell me.”
Sinjin leaned back, openly raking my body and sparing no shame for it. “I laid out my terms for opening up.”
A frilly maid costume floated through my mind.
“And I laid out my terms for opening up,” I hissed. “You want something from me, Saint, get on your knees and beg for it.”
“I don’t beg any more than I fetch, and you’ll never see me on my knees.” His fingers skated up my arm, sparking a shiver that curled my toes. “So, it seems we’re at an impasse.”
“It seems so.”
“Good.” Sinjin clapped, startling me. “That means the interrogation is over. I’ll have more of that soup.” He kissed his fingers. “Truly delicious. You outdid yourself.”
My lips parted, but nothing came out. How did he do that?
The crafty fucker steered me right into the trap, and I didn’t see it coming. He may have been correct about me not being on his level.
I snatched up the bowl. “This isn’t over,” I warned.
His laugh followed me out the door.
I have to try another tack.
I descended the metal stairs, casting an eye over Cash writing in a binder, Mercer reading in his armchair, and Brutal rising from his seat to mold to my side.
I knew nothing about these men except that they were dangerous, unrepentant killers. Ignorance in a situation like this didn’t look good for my odds of making it out alive.
I returned to Sinjin with his second helping. “If you won’t tell me about yourself,” I said, handing it over. “Tell me about the guys. What’s Brutal’s real name?”
“Ask him yourself.”
“Cute,” I deadpanned.
“He likes you,” Sinjin replied, grinning away. “I bet you could get him to give it up.”
“He likes me? When did you pick up that vibe? When he was helping you hang me from the ceiling, or when he made me scrub my armchair half a dozen times before it could come in the house?”
“Somewhere in the middle there.”
I stretched out at his feet. “I’ll also take the tale of Cash’s storied past.”
A low whistle cut through the room. “Truly wish I could tell you that. It’s good.”
“You both seem closer to each other than you do the others. How long have you known him?”
Sinjin smiled at me.
“Fine. What about Mercer?” I asked. “Why doesn’t he have a cool nickname like the rest of you?”
“I don’t need a nickname.”
I jerked, twisting on the leaning figure in the doorway.
“The one you choose inevitably gives something away about yourself. The cold and efficient Cash. The hard and merciless Brutal.” Mercer drifted off my face. “Sinjin.”
Mercer didn’t need to add descriptors. Sinjin summed it up just fine.
“But Mercer Santos—the name a well-intentioned couple gave a squalling infant—tells you nothing about the man he became.”
“Fair point,” I said. “Why don’t you tell me about the man he became?”
“I will one day. When I have time to savor your reaction.” He picked himself off the frame. “Cash finally took his head out of the binder. I’ve been given my marching orders. We’ll know something by the morning.”
“Is Brutal going with you?”
“No.”
“Fine. Tomorrow.”
My skin tightened. Once again, I was witness to a conversation where nothing was revealed.
Maybe that was a good thing. Knowing too much about their criminal enterprise didn’t work out too well for Raiden Spencer.
Still, I had the feeling being kept in the dark would keep me safe... until it didn’t.
I flipped back to Sinjin after Mercer left and pushed down the urge to ask what they all knew. Why was it important that Cash had closed the binder?
“Where are your keys?” I asked.
The up, down, up, down stopped. “Why?”
“I need them. I’m leaving early in the morning to see my dad. Spend the whole day with him.”
“Ah,” he said, resuming his meal. “No.”
“Your breakfast, lunch, and dinner are made and sitting in the fridge. Tomorrow is my day off. Give me the keys. And whatever code you guys use to get in and out of this place,” I added.
“No.”
The calmest of replies and my temper flared all the same.
“I told you I was going to see my dad days ago.”
“I remember. It was right before I said you weren’t going anywhere.”
I jumped up. “And twenty-four hours before I proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that I wouldn’t run away if given the chance. What’s up, Saint? I just want to see my family.”
“You haven’t yet earned unsupervised leave.”
“Yes, I have,” I said through gritted teeth.
“Tell you what. We’ll settle this right now.” Sinjin transferred his bowl and glass to the nightstand. I tensed as he reached into his drawer—recalling chains, knives, and rolling pins.
Sinjin set his find on the tray.
“Playing cards?”
“Playing cards,” he said. “I’ll play you for it. If you win, you get the car, the code, and twenty bucks for gas.”
My eyes narrowed. “And if you win?”
“You stay right here and continue catering and pampering me with that lovely smile on your face.”
It was guaranteed my lovely smile was nowhere to be found.
“Also.” His eyes met mine. “You stop asking to leave. Agreed?”
I lifted my chin, biting the chill and throwing it back.
“Agreed.” I climbed up and straddled his knees. “What’s the game?”
“Blackjack. Know how to play?”
I gave him a look to which he grinned.
“You’re more and more my girl every day.”
“Shuffle it up, Romeo. We’ll see if you’ve got any sweet talk left in you after I win.”
His grin widened. “Definitely all mine.”
If a flush crept up my neck, he couldn’t tell, so it couldn’t be proven. I settled in as Sinjin shook out the cards. He cut the deck and the show began.
Watching him shuffle was mesmerizing. He moved so quickly, reds, blacks, golds, diamonds, and spades blurred in my vision. Sinjin bent the deck, sending the cards cascading through the air and landing effortlessly on his palm. He fanned them on the tray.
“Check ’em.”
I did—searching to see if they’d been marked or messed with in any way. I nodded to him.
Sinjin gathered the cards and placed two faceup in front of us. Ten of
clubs for him. Two of diamonds for me.
“Hit,” I said.
Me. Seven.
Sinjin. Ace.
“Hit,” I said.
Sinjin dropped a five of spades on my pile. His card fell through the air and landed with a smirk on her face.
Queen of hearts.
An ace. A ten and a queen.
“That’s blackjack, Bunny.”
I gaped. He said it. I saw it. And I still didn’t believe it.
He folded his arms behind his head, leaning against the headboard. “Now that that’s out of the way. I repeat, hop on.”
“Again.” I picked up the cards and reshuffled them. “That was a lucky draw. We play for real this time.”
“We can play as many times as you like.”
We did.
Three.
Five.
Nine times.
Over and over again, I dealt, hit, and stayed, but in every combination of cards, Sinjin either won or we ended in a stand-off.
I threw a two down on his nineteen, eyes rounding to capture his smugness in my periphery.
“You cheated,” I breathed.
“How’d I do that?” The man was breezy like he wasn’t risking another stab wound.
“You did mark the cards.” I held them up to my face, squinting at the red curlicues. “Where is it?”
“You keep looking,” he said, sliding under the sheets. “I’m taking a nap. Feel free to join me.”
“When I figure out how you did it, you’re handing over those keys for good.” I snatched up the tray—cards and all—and stormed out.
SINJIN
“... uh...”
My eyes opened in the dark.
“... ah...”
I turned my neck, falling on the white paint, plaster, and wood that separated us.
Pushing back the sheets, I stood up, ignoring the shot of pain that went through my side. Soundlessly, I crossed the room and stepped into the hall.
The cries were louder out here. They slipped easily under the door crack.
I tried the handle.
Locked.
I did not slip as easily under the door crack.
My head tilted up to the ceiling.
But this was not the barrier Adeline would have liked it to be.
I slipped away in the dark, traveling to the single room Adeline didn’t know about. After some time and more than a little difficulty, I stepped into her bedroom, passing by the barriers she placed in front of the door.
“Uh.”
Adeline thrashed beneath her sheets—kicking and flailing at the unknown demons in her mind, and from the whimpers leaking through her lips, I feared she was losing.
I crossed to the bed, gazing down at her.
Sweat plastered autumn locks to her forehead. A streak of moonlight sought her through the window, laying a stripe over puffy eyes and darkened circles. In the morning, she would cover it with makeup, and have a plausible explanation for the split lip. This was not the first time she’d drawn her own blood during a nightmare.
I reached out and stopped myself, hovering within inches of her.
This was also not the first time I stole into her room.
I noticed the nightmares while she was in the cage and put her distress to her accommodations. But they continued after she moved into the space next to mine, waking me from the light sleep that was my curse. Another in the way we were alike.
Night did not bring peace. Day brought us no restfulness.
Closing the scant distance, I brushed away the ruby stain on her lip.
“Mm.” Adeline shifted—mouth parting as if she sensed the touch.
I cradled her cheek, feeling a peculiar emotion as she lay on it, pressing me between her and the pillow. Her thrashing eased. Whimpers lodged in her throat where they stayed.
As I traced small, gentle circles on her cheekbone, Adeline settled into sleep. Her hand flopped on my arm, and immediately her fingers curled around me. She couldn’t have known I was there, but still she kept me close, and another strange sensation went through me.
“Curious,” I whispered.
What was it about this woman?
She saved my life though I threatened hers. She pulled down those boy shorts in the middle of saying I’d have her when I begged for the privilege. She attacked me with savage ferocity, and cradled my head in her lap as I bled out.
Adeline sought to know me, but she was the mystery. As were the feelings she stirred in places other than my cock.
I stroked her cheek, arm tensing under the handprint burning into my skin.
Is this love?
My mind had no answer for me, and there was nowhere in the winding recesses I was likely to find one.
Love was something I assume I was capable of a long time ago. In the years since, the only emotions I indulged were anger and pleasure.
I traced the sloping outline of her nose.
Adeline Redgrave made me feel both in equal measure. Along with a deep, consuming need to own her in every possible way there was to have a person.
Maybe that’s love. Can’t say, I thought. I’ll ask someone.
“She named me St. John in honor of my father,” I told her. “My parents were born here in Cinco City, where you’re correct, that name was not common. This didn’t faze her. My mother did exactly what she wanted to do without hesitation. A trait that’s served me better than the name she gave me.”
Adeline stirred, face scrunching up.
“The name you give a squalling infant has no impact on the man he becomes.”
ADELINE
“... man he becomes.”
I blinked awake. Sitting up, I scanned the empty room.
I thought I heard someone, but of course, I was alone.
I pressed a hand to my cheek.
The strangest sensation lingered on my skin. My fingers traced what felt like the mark of a handprint and then fell upon my lips.
I winced.
The nightmares had increased since I became the Merchants’ newest roommate. Not surprising. The anxiety I hid during the day, plagued my sleeping mind.
Still. Why should Saint’s voice whisper in my dreams? Or was it Mercer?
Turning over, I spotted the playing cards on my nightstand. I went over every inch of them, but how Saint cheated hadn’t revealed itself to me.
I’d be here for a while. I had to find a way to survive.
A way to sleep.
Chapter Seven
Saint
“Stop. Let go!”
I peered over the railing.
“Brutal, I fucking swear! This isn’t for you,” she cried. “It’s for Cash.”
Adeline held tight to the plate, straining to free it from Brutal’s grip. What he found wrong with her breakfast, I didn’t know, but he was as determined to get it away from her as she was to get it back.
“If you throw another plate away, I’ll feed you cabbage soup for a week.”
Unheeding of her threats, he moved back, skidding her across the floor after him. He opened the cabinet that housed the garbage can.
“Let go— Ah!”
Brutal snagged her around the waist, lifting a shouting Adeline one-handed. The other tipped the French toast and sausage directly in the trash.
He set her back on her feet and strode off.
Adeline chased after him, leaped on his back, and—
My brows shot up my forehead.
—ran her hands through his hair, thoroughly messing it up.
“Argh!”
Dropping down, Adeline took off running. Brutal closed the distance in two bounds, setting upon her. The two collided and tipped over the back of the couch, grappling.
“This is not going to work,” a dry voice spoke up.
Cash stepped to my side, taking in the scene.
“You don’t trust your own plan?”
“I don’t trust her,” he corrected. “Look at her. She’s too defiant. Unpredictable.”
“I’ve always admired unpredictability.”
“Not when our fucking lives and everything we’ve built is on the line, Sinjin. She’s the key variable in all of this, and the only one we can’t control. If she doesn’t do what we need her to do when the time comes, we’re all dead.”
“She’ll do it.”
“Why?” he challenged. “Because you imagine this dance you two are doing means something to her? Far as I’m concern, she’s dangling that pussy above your head to keep herself above ground.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” I replied mildly. “Bunny has made it clear her pussy will be for the taking if I do something I’ll never do.”
“Which is?”
“Surrender.”
“Doesn’t look to be something she does either.”
Adeline escaped Brutal’s grip and went for the hair again. I laughed.
“No, it doesn’t,” I said. I made up my mind. “She’s coming with me today.”
“What? What the fuck are you talking about?”
“She’s coming with me to get the shipment.”
“I’m going with you,” Cash said. “Mercer put all his considerable skills toward getting us the time and location. The boys are locked and ready to go. If we mess this up, we won’t get another chance for three months, and as I mentioned, we’ll be dead by then.”
“All this I know.”
“She can’t go, Sinjin.”
“She’s going.” I turned on him, leaving Brutal and Adeline to their fight. “She’s gotta be a part of this. Implicable in this.”
“That’s not a word.”
“All the same, I’m right. Adeline won’t sacrifice for the Merchants unless our fate is tied to hers.”
Cash slid a look down below, frown losing its edge. “You mean we turn the snappy, whisk-wielding princess into one of us?”
“A Merchant.”
ADELINE
Brutal snatched me free of his locks—ever-silent though his whiskey eyes raged his unfiltered thoughts.
We tossed against the couch cushions. Brutal was trying to get a hold of me and who knew what the hell I was doing. A month ago, I was sous chef in Waterford’s famed up-and-coming gourmet restaurant.
