The Saint

by Amelia Shea

  Marissa gasped. “No, she’s not, Bailey. You are beautiful.”

  “Yeah.” Bailey motioned to her face. “Here and on the inside. But from the neck down, Riss, I’m not.” She shook her head. Her vision blurred, and she covered her face with her hands. “It’s ugly and gross, just like she said. What man would want this?” She pulled back her sleeves, and for the first time in years, she cringed at the sight of her scars. This is who I am now.

  “Bailey,” Marissa whispered, reaching out for her arms.

  Bailey slumped against the wall for only a brief second feeling the weight of her own honesty weigh her down. It was painful and heart-wrenching, because it was the truth. She’d dismissed the idea of being intimate with anyone, and for a while it was okay. It had been on her terms. But she was seeing the reality now. No man would ever see beyond the scars. None, including the man who was bringing her breakfast in a few days. She heaved a breath and gasped for air.

  A strong set of arms wrapped around her body in a tight hold, almost engulfing her into the point of pain. The hold was so tight she was scrunched into a tight ball. She pried her eyes open to see Marissa standing in front of her with tears streaming down her face. It hadn’t sunk in. If Marissa was standing across from her, who the hell was holding her? She glanced to the side to see Jack.

  Great. Not only had she yelled, screamed, cried, and lost her shit in front of one person, now she realized it had been two. Jack’s hand caressed her back and his lips pressed against the top of her head. She closed her eyes. So sweet.

  “I don’t know who the fuck she is, but the cunt don’t know shit. Ya hear me?” Jack shouted in her ear, and she jumped still locked in his embrace. He patted her back. “Eyes up here, darlin’.”

  Bailey glanced up, and Jack immediately wiped her tears from her cheeks. “You are beautiful. Ya hear me? Fucking, goddamn gorgeous, so what, ya got some scars, I got a fuck ton. Who gives shit?”

  She drew in a deep breath and forced a smile. Leave it to Jack to somehow make it all okay. He rocked side to side with Bailey nestled in his arms.

  “Thanks, Jack.”

  He unwrapped her from his hold and stepped back, keeping his gaze locked on her. When she sniffled, his glare hardened.

  “I got my own set of rules. I can’t break em’. God, I wish I could just this one time.” He stopped in thought and grew silent. He shook his head. “No, I can’t break it.”

  Bailey eyed Marissa, and she appeared just as confused by his statement.

  “Gotta be a real son of a bitch to shoot a woman, even if the cunt deserves it. That I can’t do.” He sighed and straightened his back, glancing over to Marissa. “Where’s my gun?”

  Bailey gasped. What the hell was he talking about? A gun? Her heart raced against her chest.

  “You’re not killing anyone, Jack.” Marissa narrowed her gaze and seemed extremely calm when she spoke, unlike Bailey who was on the verge of a panic attack.

  “I ain’t gonna kill no one. I’m just gonna shoot them, teach em’ a lesson for bringing trash around Bailey.” He pursed his lips. “Trust me. You remember your mistakes when ya got a gunshot scar to serve as a reminder.”

  “Oh, fuck me.”

  Bailey spun around to find Caden at the doorway.

  “How’d you get in here?” Jack snapped.

  Caden cocked his brow. “I have a key, remember, this is my house.” He shook his head, and his gaze drifted to Bailey. She immediately glanced away. She wouldn’t be surprised if Caden banned Bailey from ever stepping foot in his house again. She wouldn’t be shocked if he forbid Marissa from hanging out with her, though, Marissa might make the decision on her own after this clusterfuck of a day.

  “Pop, lunch is ready. Head down. We’ll catch up.”

  Jack turned, not saying another word until he stood next to Caden at the door.

  “Hey.” Bailey whipped her head in his direction. He was apparently talking to her. He narrowed his eyes, and he pursed his lips. “Changed my mind. You want me to. I’ll shoot the cunt. Break my rule for you.”

  Marissa burst out laughing, Caden rolled his eyes, and Jack remained fixated on her.

  It had been the sweetest, most obscene offer she’d ever received. Bailey smiled. “No, Jack.” A bubble of laughter built in her belly. This was the strangest conversation she’d ever had in her life. “I appreciate the offer, Jack, and thank you for being so kind to me.”

  He pointed at Bailey. “I’ll do it for you, darlin’, if you change your mind. You’re a good one, Bailey, too damn pretty to be sad.”

  Jack simply nodded with a wink and left the room. Bailey avoided eye contact with Marissa and Caden. Her stomach turned with a harsh guilt. She had caused a chaos in their house when she was supposed to be painting a nursery. She gulped and glanced up to find them both looking at her. Neither one appeared angry. If anything, they seemed sympathetic. Bailey turned to Caden.

  “I’m so sorry, Caden…” She stopped mid apology when Caden’s hand lifted.

  “You got nothing to be sorry for, Bailey.” He was being sweet. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” He paused. “Pop is usually all crazy talk, but he’s right. You’re a good one.” He smiled. “Too pretty to be sad.”

  Bailey curled her lip. The biggest take away from this shit show was the reminder that she had surrounded herself with good people.

  “Why don’t we do this some other time?” Marissa walked forward and smiled. “Let’s have lunch or something.”

  Bailey furrowed her brows, and her shoulders sagged. She’d ruined everything. “You don’t want me to do the mural?” Had she messed up so badly Marissa didn’t want her help anymore?

  Marissa flinched in surprise. “What? No, of course, I do.”

  Bailey drew in a breath and sighed in relief. “Then I want to do it. Today.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes.”

  Marissa clapped her hands. “I can’t wait to see it.”

  Caden cleared his throat. “I got work to do. Holler if ya need something.” He leaned over, kissing Marissa, and then turned to Bailey with a soft smile. “Thanks, Bailey. And you’re staying for dinner.”

  “Oh, I don’t…”

  He narrowed his gaze. “Wasn’t asking. You’re eating dinner with us. Pop would probably shoot my ass if ya left here hungry. Consider it a thank you.”

  Good people.

  “Okay.”

  He sighed and headed toward the door, then turned and rolled his eyes. “Gonna apologize for Trevor now. The kid can’t help himself around pretty girls. He’s gonna flirt with ya.” Caden winked and left the room.

  Bailey laughed, and somehow, the day had been saved.

  ****

  Saint had scheduled the grand opening around Marco’s schedule. His lead tattoo artist rotated around the five locations, giving him full access to all their shops. He wouldn’t include the Ghosttown location on his routine schedule, but he would spend a week there during the grand opening, along with Minka. They were the best artists in the state and highly sought after. A few years ago, he offered to let Minka out of her contract and venture out on her own. She had enough clients that she probably would have made a killing. She declined, wanting to stay with him and Marco. She, like the rest of his employees, had become extended family.

  “So, just a week?” Marco asked, sitting across from Saint’s desk.

  “Yeah, and I’ve got your accommodations set up. There aren’t any hotels, but the club has a house available for you, Minka, and anyone else you might want to bring along.”

  Marco laughed. “Me and Gwen parted ways last week.”

  Saint had met his on-again, off-again girlfriend a few times. He hadn’t been a fan. Saint had a keen sense on most people and didn’t get a good vibe from Gwen. In true Saint fashion, he’d kept his opinion to himself.

  He shrugged. “Wanted to travel with me, ya know, quit her job. She’s good, got me thinking I might take her up on the offer. But I realized
she might like my name and reputation a little more than she actually likes me. Too bad though.”

  Minka charged in the room, laughing. “Too bad, why? ’Cause she’s a good lay?”

  Marco laughed and raised his brows at Saint. “Pretty much.”

  Minka sneered. “You’re all pigs.” She settled into the chair next to Marco. “Except Saint.”

  Saint smirked and handed them the copies of their itinerary. They had both offered up their time for the new shop. Of all the artists he employed, he was closest to Marco and Minka. He was the one who gave each of them their first shot at tattooing. Best decision he ever made.

  Minka glanced over the sheet and tossed it onto his desk. “I need to renegotiate my terms on this.”

  Saint looked up. “On what? Ghosttown?”

  She nodded and clasped her hands, smiling. He was being more than generous with his offer. He’d pay their travel and food expenses, and put them up in the house. On top of their work, he added a healthy bonus, which both insisted wasn’t necessary though he demanded they take it. What the hell more could she want? He eyed her suspiciously. He’d known Minka for years, and she’d always been fair, never demanding, or greedy.

  “What else would you like?”

  She arched her brow and side glanced Marco, who was watching her. She pursed her lips and stared at Saint with a glint in her eye. “I want to meet Bailey.”

  He sucked in a breath, watching her smile turn into a full grin. “And not some greeting of ‘Minka, this is Bailey.’” She shook her head. “Uh-uh, Saint, I want to meet her, hang out with her, dinner, drinks, all of it.”

  Marco raised his hand, clearly amused. “I’d like to renegotiate for that too.”

  Saint had shared his feelings about Bailey to Marco. He was easy to confide in him since he didn’t know her. It had been a long year of waiting for the right timing with Bailey, and he’d vented his frustration to Marco. On occasion, Minka was nearby. He wasn’t surprised they’d want to meet her.

  Minka lifted her finger. “Oh, and it’s non-negotiable, Saint. If I can’t meet her, I’m not going.” She folded her arms over her chest.

  Saint settled into his seat and clasped his hands on the desk, eyeing both tattoo artists—his friends who’d been traveling the same year with him on his wait for Bailey. “Then you’ll meet Bailey.”

  “No shit?” Marco said, which was a dulled response compared to Minka, who shot up from her chair and leaned across his desk.

  “You better not be pulling some shit, like when we get there, you renege.”

  Saint sighed, angling his head. “Have I ever reneged on an agreement?”

  She leaned closer, squinting her eyes, which made him smirk. She smiled and hopped away from his desk, turning toward the door. She bounced in her step, which was utterly amusing. She turned back at the doorway and leaned on the frame.

  “I’m so friggin’ excited.” She glanced at the ceiling. “Bailey Monroe. Has a nice ring to it, don’t ya think?” Her teasing was in jest, and he could take it. However, she needed to reel it back in front of Bailey. The last thing he needed was anyone scaring her off.

  He scowled. “Tread lightly, Minka. Remember who signs your paycheck.”

  She laughed. “I’m gonna have so much fun with this, Saint. Look at you, all sweet and in love with Bailey.” She winked and skittered out the door.

  Marco chuckled. “She’s such a pain in the ass.”

  “Since the day we met her.”

  Marco sighed and tilted his head. “Gotta say, man, I’m stoked to meet Bailey.”

  Saint knew he would be.

  His phone rang, and he glanced down to see Kase’s name. He wasn’t expecting a call.

  “I got a client. We’ll talk later.” Marco walked out the door just as Saint answered the call.

  “Yeah?”

  “Call Cade.”

  Saint furrowed his brows.

  “Why?”

  “Call him.”

  This was unusual. While he had a fairly close relationship with Caden, this was a rare demand.

  “Care to explain why you’re telling me to call your brother?”

  “’Cause I’m thinking ya don’t wanna hear this shit secondhand, considering it’s about Bailey.”

  His heart skipped. From Kase’s words and his tone, this couldn’t be anything good.

  “What?”

  “Call fucking Cade. Now.”

  Saint hung up and dialed Cade’s number. He grabbed his jacket and stalked through the shop, ignoring the awkward glances. He threw open the door just as Cade answered.

  “Hey, man.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “You got a minute to talk?”

  The cool air hit his face as he ambled toward his bike. He was set to make the ride to Ghosttown if need be. “Cade, fucking tell me, is she okay?”

  “Yeah, Saint, she’s fine. Calm down, didn’t Kase tell ya?”

  “No, he said to call you, so fucking speak.” His blood was racing through his body in a heated rush. He rarely used foul language. Unlike his brothers, he didn’t find the need to incessantly curse. However, when he lost control, which wasn’t very often, he did have an equally colorful vocabulary as his brothers.

  “I swear, Saint, she’s fine. She came over this morning. She’s doing a mural in the baby’s room. Anyway, I guess she saw the guys here, still embarrassed about how shit went down the other night. I didn’t catch the whole conversation, and Marissa wouldn’t go into detail saying it’s private what Bailey shared with her.” He sighed. “I was in the hall when she broke down crying, talking about how the bitch from the club said was right, some false advertising and swamp thing comment. Saying her scars were too ugly for any man to want to be with her.”

  Saint stopped dead in his tracks. His breath labored, and his nostrils flared. He’d heard about the comments relayed by Macy. For Bailey to be dwelling on them meant they struck her deep, and someone was going to pay.

  “Anyway, she was crying, not making much sense to me, but she was wrecked, Saint. Bailey, man, we all got a soft spot for her, and seeing her like that?” Caden paused. “It ain’t right. Not with Bailey.”

  He closed his eyes, wishing there was a way to take her pain away.

  Caden chuckled, which seemed odd for the conversation. “Believe it or not, it was Jack who saved the day. He’s a mean son of a bitch when it comes to us, but he’s got a soft spot for the girls. Especially Bailey. Hugged your girl, telling her she was beautiful.” Caden snorted. “Then the crazy bastard offers to start shooting people, mainly the bitch who said it.”

  For a brief moment, the mood had lightened. Saint smirked.

  “Bailey declined the offer, ’cause ya know, she’s sweet Bailey.” He snickered. “Just thought you should know.”

  “How’d she leave?”

  “Good man. Marissa wanted to hold off on the mural.” He snorted. “Bailey wasn’t having it. She worked for hours. Ya got come see it, fucking incredible. She’s got a shit ton of talent. She stayed for dinner with us.” He paused. “Trev flirted with her.”

  Saint rolled his eyes. Of course, Trevor would. He was seventeen going on manhood. Any interaction with a beautiful woman, he’d jump at the chance to flirt.

  “She’s good now, just wanted to give you the heads up.”

  “Thanks. Cade, need you or Riss to check on her. Won’t be back for a few days.”

  “Yeah, Saint, we got her. Riss talks to her almost every day anyway. No worries, man. Later.”

  Saint hung up and shoved his phone in his back pocket. He had three more days of work piled on his desk before he could head back to Ghosttown. If he didn’t finish, he’d have to come back. His own relief was knowing she was in good hands with Marissa and Caden.

  And Jack.

  Chapter Seven

  Saint Monroe.

  “I can’t believe he showed up,” she muttered.

  Bailey bit her lip, spying from the back door. S
he inched the curtain back slightly in hopes of going unnoticed. He was rounding the back of her house with a paper bag in his hand. She had heard the motorcycle pull in her driveway minutes ago. She couldn’t believe he actually came over. Why was she surprised? He said he would Saturday night. Although a lot had happened in the last few days. Her outburst and breakdown had changed so much. She was sure Saint knew. They all knew. Her face heated, and she closed her eyes. I need to let it go. She’d spent almost a week harping over something beyond her control. Other people’s opinions. They only matter if you let them. With all the therapy she’d invested in herself, she should have been able to move past it.

  There was no way she could sit at her kitchen table with Saint and eat breakfast as if what happened hadn’t affected her. It was impossible. Why had she said yes in the first place? How could I not? It’s Saint. Her forehead broke out in a beaded sweat. Think. She twisted her lips and watched as he moved past her backyard flower bed.

  Her car was in the garage. He might think she was out if she didn’t answer the door. If she ran into him at a later time, she could just say she forgot. Yeah, ’cause that’s believable. What woman would forget they were having breakfast with Saint? She drew in a breath.

  Oh shit! She was a second too late to go unnoticed when she blinked and saw Saint strolling up her back steps, his eyes set on her through the sliver of the curtain. She jumped back from the door. What now? He knew she was inside, ignoring him was no longer an option. She stared at the door waiting for it to burst open or catch on fire. It didn’t.

  A soft singular knock sounded, and she drew in a breath, holding it tight. He’d seen her. She had to answer. Breathe, idiot. Bailey gasped for a breath and jerked back a step when he knocked again. It was strange. It wasn’t hurried or demanding, no banging or pounding. A simple patient knock. It was as if he knew that eventually, she’d open the door.