The Saint

by Amelia Shea

  Bailey gulped with tears threatening at the rim of her eyes. She sniffled and brushed her hands against her cheeks. “You’re a good guy, Rourke.”

  “No,” he scoffed. “I’m not, but I’m honest.” He backed up and turned to the door. “You remember what I said.” He opened the door and walked through, closing it behind him.

  And to somebody, you’re gonna be his fucking everything.

  ****

  Saint pulled in front of the clubhouse and parked. The first sight of the night was a guy on his knees in the grass puking. He rolled his eyes. He was too damn old for this shit. If not for Kase’s call, he would have been asleep by now. He dismounted and caught a raging engine flying up the drive. Great, now they were getting stupid. He recognized the bike and the other coming up from behind. Though the second wasn’t driving like an asshole.

  Saint rested his helmet over his handlebars and started to the doors. He was a few feet from the steps when the screaming caught his attention. He stepped back and made his way to the side of the house.

  “You piece of shit. If I knew he’d do it, I’d demand Rourke kick your ass. Since I know he won’t, I’ll do it.”

  Saint rushed over. What the fuck? Rourke had his arm wrapped around Macy’s waist. She was flailing with her arms stretched out swinging. Dobbs stood a foot away, glaring at her.

  “Rourke, fucking control her. Should have kept the ban on her ass!” Dobbs shouted.

  Oh fuck. Saint moved closer as Rourke unraveled his hold and started to Dobbs. Saint moved a little quicker than usual and placed himself between his brothers. Fights were common at parties, but it was never good when it was brother pitted against brother.

  Rourke halted. Saint knew if he moved, Rourke would take a shot at Dobbs.

  Macy barreled into the right of her man and pointed at Dobbs, her hand shaking. “You should be banned. You are a vile piece of shit. You’re not worthy to wear the patch.”

  Dobbs’ face turned bright red, and Saint angled his body closer to him. He was raging, and the last thing he needed was a mouthy woman getting caught up in whatever was happening.

  “Settle, brother.” Saint lowered his voice, but Dobbs heard. He breathed heavily through his nose, his glare aimed at Macy.

  “You don’t make decisions in the club, sweetheart. Being Rourke’s hole doesn’t grant you a say.”

  Oh hell! Rourke pushed forward, grabbing Dobbs by the neck, and it took everything Saint had to muscle his way between them. He gripped Rourke’s chest and pushed back, breaking contact with Dobbs. Saint gasped a breath, his own heart beating rashly. Whatever was happening he wanted a fucking answer. He usually kept himself out of the bitch bullshit between his brothers, unless it was necessary that he intervene.

  “You ever call her a hole again, I’ll fucking kill you!” Rourke shouted.

  Dobbs swung out his hand. “She came at me with her fucking mouth, man. She needs to mind her own business.”

  Macy stepped forward, and Rourke grabbed a hold of the back of her shirt preventing her from getting closer. Macy, who he’d always thought of as sweet with a sarcastic tongue, was beyond livid. Her body was shaking in anger. He’d never seen her like this.

  “Bailey is my business. And I’ll say whatever I damn well please. You sure as hell did.”

  Her name immediately struck something in Saint. It was unnatural the way his chest tightened and blood rushed through his veins. He was prepared to demand answers. Macy saved him the trouble of asking.

  “You invite her here, then fuck some random chick in the backroom who spews a bunch of vile bullshit.” Macy face burned red, and her eyes darkened. “And you said nothing.”

  Saint had had enough.

  “What the fuck is going on?” Saint snapped and looked at Rourke. He tore his gaze from Dobbs and took a breath. Rourke would be the best one to get answers from.

  Rourke sighed, shaking his head. “Dobbs, over there,” he lifted his chin past Saint’s shoulder, “invited Bailey to the party. She came, apparently walked in on him fucking someone. Whoever the bitch was said some shit about her scars…”

  “Made fun of her scars!” Macy shouted and pushed forward. “And that asshole said nothing. Just let her say Bailey was false advertising. Pretty face, but when ya got her clothes off, she’s disgusting.” Macy’s voice shook. “Right, Dobbs? It’s what she said, and you what, kept fucking her ’cause a hole is a hole? You and that bitch, you guys are the disgusting ones, not Bailey.”

  Saint’s muscles tightened, and his blood chilled. He slowly turned facing Dobbs.

  “Is that true?”

  Dobbs’ face paled slightly, and Saint was ready to rip his eyes out. He swallowed. “I told her to shut up.” His words were a bitch excuse, and even Saint recognized Dobbs’ shame.

  “And yet ya still kept fucking her, huh? Aren’t you a gentleman?”

  Dobbs pushed forward, and Saint gripped his shoulder in a tight hold. “Shut the fuck up, Macy.”

  Macy lunged at Dobbs. “No, you shut the fuck up, you poor excuse for a man.”

  “Fuck.” Rourke pulled Macy against his chest and lifted her off the ground. He walked down the drive with Macy protesting. When they were far enough away, Saint slowly turned to Dobbs. He opened his mouth, and Saint scowled.

  “Don’t. Speak.”

  Dobbs drew in a breath, clamped his lips, and followed his orders. For his own safety, Dobbs needed to remain quiet. Another word from his brother and Saint could not be held responsible for what he’d do. Breathe. His anger mounted as the story unfolded. Now, he was taking on Bailey’s hurt and pain, which only amplified his rage. He could envision it, striking Dobbs’ jaw, his head bolting back on his neck and him stumbling to the ground. Saint could see him trying to get up and his own foot kicking his face and sending him back to the ground. His boot shoved into Dobbs’ throat while he gasped for breath.

  “Everything okay here?” The soft feminine voice was the only thing saving Dobbs right now. If he was smart, he would thank Cheyenne the first chance he got.

  Saint’s glare remained locked on Dobbs, who appeared nervous. He should be. Saint’s reputation wasn’t anything to take lightly. Saint stepped closer.

  “I don’t care who she is, who brought her, who fucked her.” He slowly shook his head. “I want her out now, and she never shows her face here again. You feel me?”

  Dobbs nodded. “Yeah. And I’m gonna go make it right with Bailey.”

  Her name on his lips was putting Saint over the edge. He snarled, lifting the top of his lip like a rabid dog. “You will stay away from Bailey.”

  “Saint…”

  “You. Will. Stay. Away.” He was eerily calm, which should have had Dobbs concerned for his own well-being. Saint wasn’t done. “If you don’t, the only way you’ll be riding your bike is in a fucking sidecar. Not a threat, Dobbs, it’s a promise.”

  Dobbs backed away. He watched Saint as he made his way around the back of the building. Saint didn’t look away until he disappeared.

  “What happened?” Cheyenne whispered from behind him. She was close. Too close not to have heard the exchange. He turned to find her standing a few feet away with Rourke and Macy.

  “Mace,” Cheyenne said.

  Macy was focused solely on Saint when she answered her friend. “I’ll tell ya later. It’s about Bailey. He better not go back there, Saint. You didn’t see her, she was destroyed, and the last thing she needs is him at her door tonight.”

  “He won’t,” Saint said.

  Macy snorted with tears rimming her eyes. “She’ll probably be up all night worried he will.” Macy sniffled and wiped her cheek. When she moved toward Cheyenne, Rourke released her and turned to Saint.

  “I always got a brother’s back, Saint.” He narrowed his gaze. “But tonight, seeing Bailey? I wanted to rip his fucking throat out.”

  Rourke was one of the most loyal brothers belonging to the club. His admission was confirmation of how bad it must have been. S
aint straightened his back with a sharp nod. He walked to his bike, not saying another word to the small group. He mounted his bike, aware of them watching him. Saint didn’t pay them any attention. There was only one place he needed to be right now.

  Chapter Five

  “Son of a bitch. Why can’t this night just end already?”

  She heard the engine idle in front of her house. It hadn’t woken her. Sleep was not coming easy tonight. She forced herself to get in bed when her house had cleared out. What she needed was to close her eyes and forget, be whisked away into dead sleep. The sleep never came.

  She glanced over at the clock. 1:37am. Bailey stared up at her ceiling fan, watching the blades swirl around. Maybe being mesmerized by the motion would send her into a relaxed state, ease her enough to fall asleep. She ignored the loud motor rumbling outside her window.

  If he thought for one second he could come back after she specifically told him to leave, he was wrong. Majorly fucking wrong. She tightened her grip on the sheets, digging her nails into the soft fabric. After what he’d done tonight, humiliated her, and now he was sitting outside her house.

  It was moments like this she wished she had neighbors. At least then someone could call and complain. She drew in a breath. Complain about what? Motorcycles were legal and allowed to be on the road. It was also legal to be parked in front of her house. She debated making her own call. Ghosttown didn’t have a police department. They relied strictly on the State Police. It was rare they were called, but when they were, they showed up. An hour later.

  She jerked her head on her pillow. The silence piqued her curiosity. Had he left? She hadn’t heard the motorcycle rev its engine and take off down the road. Could he quietly stroll down her street without her hearing him? Oh, please let the answer be yes. She threw off her covers, kicking at the edge, and rolled out of bed. The room was basked in darkness except for a small nightlight from her hallway. She slowly moved to the side of the window and slid the drape aside a few inches.

  “Dammit!”

  The curtain fell from her fingertips, and she pressed her back against the wall parallel to the window. Why was he doing this to her? Why was he here?

  She craned her neck and squinted her eyes for a better view. He remained seated on his bike, one foot on the ground, the other on his pedal. Bailey could see the silhouette of his body. He shifted forward, and she jumped against the wall but kept her sight on him. The last thing she needed was him coming to the door, which she was sure was his next move.

  He didn’t get off his bike. He simply removed his helmet, draped it over a steering bar and settled in, a little hunched over. A light glow from his hands caught her eye. She scrunched her nose and clamped her lips together in anger. The jerk was outside her house, keeping her up, and now he was playing on his phone?

  “I’ve had it,” she muttered and rushed to her phone on the nightstand. She waited a second, considering her options. If she did phone the police, it would take them well over an hour, and since he wasn’t technically doing anything illegal, she wasn’t sure they’d even bother sending someone out. She was left with only one other option. She scrolled through her contacts and hit call.

  It rang three times, and she was sure it would go straight to voicemail.

  “Yeah.”

  His gruff tone was usual, and from the music and ruckus in the background, she didn’t think she woke him. His number wasn’t one she used often. He made her a little uneasy. He’d never done anything to her, but his whole persona put Bailey on edge. Now she was calling him. She rubbed her forehead with the back of her hand.

  “I’ll give ya another second before I hang up.” He paused, and she opened her mouth, but he interrupted. “Fucking speak, Bailey.”

  She blinked, tightening her grip on her phone. Did he have to be so damn demanding?

  “I have a problem,” she said then bit her bottom lip and waited.

  “Okay.”

  She cleared her throat and paused, coming up with her wording before she spoke. Apparently, he wasn’t sparing her any patience.

  “You want me to fucking guess what it is?” He sighed and muttered under his breath. “Jesus Christ.”

  His lack of compassion for her having a problem in the first place, compounded with his impatience, fueled her fire for the man sitting outside her house. She’d always been respectful of the club. She was one of the few residents who had given them a chance and not assumed they were bad for their tiny town. Until tonight, she hadn’t taken an issue with any of them. In fact, she’d gone out of her way to make them feel welcome, knowing they weren’t getting any warmth from the rest of the town. I went to a fucking club party!

  “All right, listen, this is…”

  “No, you listen.” She cut him off. “I have been nothing but nice and welcoming to you and your club. I’ve done everything in my little power to help the transition of your club into Ghosttown, I’ve even gone as far as to tell the residents, who loathe you, we need to be fair and accept you guys. So, don’t tell me I have to listen to you.”

  Her body shook in anger, and her breath skipped. Bailey couldn’t recall the last time she’d been this infuriated. She paced around her room from wall to wall.

  “Darlin’?”

  “What?” she snapped, completely fed up with him and his club. And every single member. Guilt by association.

  He chuckled, which only intensified her heated blood.

  “You called me. Now, you gotta problem, just fucking say it. Otherwise, I’m gonna hang up ’cause as much as I appreciate you going to bat for the club?” His tone took an odd, eerily, quiet and fierce tone. “Never asked for it. Not giving out favors for you being fucking who you are. We don’t owe you shit, Bailey. Ya get me?”

  What an asshole! If she was a different person, she would hang up now and call all the residents of her town and form a lynching for this prick.

  “You’re an asshole, Kase. A gigantic, arrogant, undeniable jerk.” She was feeding off anger, and her words were spilling out without any rational thought. She wasn’t one to usually curse. However, he brought out her foul mouth. “You give bikers a bad name.”

  The rumbling through the phone was undoubtedly laughter. “I give bikers a bad name?” He coughed, and she heard the amusement in his voice. “That’s a first.”

  This call needed to end before she did something stupid, like get out her bb gun and start shooting at Dobbs through her window.

  “I’ll give you five minutes to get him away from my house. If he’s not gone in five, then I’m calling the police, and I will file a complaint of intimidation and harassment.” She paused and balled her fist. “How well do you think you’ll fare being on their radar, Kase?”

  She had no plans of doing anything of the sort. Lying to get him to listen was a tactic she was willing to use. Anything to get Dobbs gone.

  “Don’t threaten me, Bailey.” His tone was completely calm, yet sinister.

  “It’s no threat. If he’s not gone, I’ll do it. And since you insist on going back and forth with me, you now have four minutes. And yes, I’m timing it.”

  “Who the fuck are you talking about?”

  “Your guy, in your cut, sitting on a motorcycle, in front of my house.” She yelled the last two words.

  “Who?” He barked.

  “Dobbs. Get him outta here, now, Kase. Three minutes.”

  “What the fuck?” She heard him shuffling around and the feminine yelp. Great, he was probably having sex while she was ranting. She lowered her head and stared at her toes digging into the carpet.

  “I don’t know who the fuck you’re talking about. I’m staring at Dobbs at the bar in the fucking clubhouse.”

  Her head spiked up. “What?”

  “He’s right here.”

  “But—” She rushed to the window. In the exact same spot as he was ten minutes ago, sat a man on his bike. He no longer held his phone. His gaze was directed to the vacant lot across the street from her
house. “Then who is he?” She unnecessarily pointed. Kase couldn’t see anyway.

  “Fuck. I’ll call you back.” He hung up without another word.

  Bailey moved closer to the window, watching the figure. Who was it? Rourke, maybe? It didn’t make sense. Where was Macy then? He moved suddenly, dug into his pocket and brought his phone to his ear. Obviously, she couldn’t hear what he was saying, but Kase must have known who he was. The call didn’t last long, and it seemed like the minute he put his phone down, hers rang. She picked up before the first ring finished.

  “It’s Saint.” He sounded extremely pissed off.

  She leaned closer to her window, staring out at him.

  “Saint? Why is he sitting out there?”

  “You wanna know, go fucking ask him.”

  She gripped her phone. Why did Kase insist on being a jerk? And why was Saint sitting in front of her house in the middle of the night? She pulled back the curtain. Still there.

  “Well, did you tell him to leave?”

  Kase snorted in annoyance. “Listen, Bailey. It’s been a long fucking night. You want him gone, get your ass outside and tell him. And good luck with that, Mayor. Haven’t met a person Saint takes orders from, but have at it.”

  “Wait, you’re his president, you can make him leave.”

  Kase laughed. “Yeah, you got a lot to learn about Saint.” He hung up.

  Shit. Now what? She moved slowly, getting in front of the window and peering down at the street. The only light was shining from her porch. He was back to staring at the lot across the road. She glanced over at the empty property. What was he looking at? More importantly, why was he sitting in front of her house at one-thirty in the morning?

  She pulled back the curtain, giving her a full unobstructed view. She bit her lip with indecision. Half of her mind was screaming for her to get her ass outside. Saint’s here. The other half was yelling for her to retreat and get back in bed. There was no way she’d fall asleep knowing he was outside. She drew in a breath and angled her head, getting a better view.

  “He did smile at me earlier.” Her tension eased a little. “Sort of.” It was more of a half-smile, more than he’d given any of the other women at the barbeque. She stepped away, rushing to her dresser and grabbing a sweatshirt.