Saint (Gates of Heaven Book 1)

by M. Tasia

  He reached for the packet of lube and tore it open, covered his fingers, and began stretching Saint. He was so tight that the first time they’d made love Max had worried about hurting him. That had been an honest concern and not ego driven. He quickly realized that Saint hadn’t been with anyone in a long time. Now though, Saint seemed to be making up for lost time. Letting his hands wander over Max’s body every time they were alone. He’d be a liar if he said he wasn’t enjoying that fact thoroughly.

  “That’s it, babe, open for me,” Max crooned as he slid a second finger into his lover.

  “More, I need more,” Saint gasped as Max slid in a third. “Yes, that’s it. Oh god, yes.”

  Max found that little bundle of nerves that would send Saint flying and began rubbing it mercilessly. Saint’s breathing seemed broken by endless moans of pleasure and Max was at the end of his patience.

  “Roll over, sweetheart, you’re ready.” Max had learned that Saint liked to shake up positions during their lovemaking. When he wanted something a little more intense, Saint went to his hands and knees. The position allowed Max more control and extra stability so that he could pound into Saint as fast and hard as he wished. “What a beautiful sight.”

  Saint’s muscled body seemed to glow in the firelight. He’d braced his forearms on the blanket, his head down, ass up, ready to be filled by Max. Fuck. He had to squeeze the base of his cock to stop himself from coming at the sight. Once the tingling receded, Max quickly rolled the condom over his hard-on and lined himself up with Saint’s body.

  “Ready?” Max asked as he circled his lover’s hole with the mushroomed head of his cock.

  “God, yes.”

  Max growled before pushing the tip of his cock past Saint’s tight ring. Saint’s muscles had a stranglehold around Max’s shaft, but soon enough those same muscles began to relax enough for him to slowly slide himself in until his balls rested against Saint’s ass. His gorgeous lover clutched handfuls of the grass and Max wasted no time pulling out before slamming home once again.

  Saint was riding the edge of coming if his groans and the rippling muscles squeezing Max’s cock trying to milk the come from his balls were any indication. Pistoning his hips, Max drove his cock in and out of Saint at a frenzied pace. Saint’s body stiffened seconds before he yelled his release out into the darkness surrounding them.

  Saint’s muscles clamped down on Max’s cock, causing him to grip Saint’s hips tighter in order to keep moving. He was sure Saint would have handprint-shaped bruises on his skin, but Max was running on instinct. The drive to come inside his lover, marking Saint as his, was undeniable. The fire that raced down his spine had Max pushing deeper until his balls pulled up tight to his body and hot come filled the end of his condom.

  After a few minutes of floating on a sea of endorphins, Max found the strength to lower both of them down onto their sides. He would have to pull out of Saint soon and dispose of his condom but at this moment he was content to stay where he was. Max held Saint tight to his chest as his lover ran his hands up and down Max’s arm and thigh. No, he was in no hurry to end this so soon and tugged the remainder of the blanket over top of them.

  Neither broke the silence as they bathed in the glow of the fire and their love.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The bitter scent of painted wood burning was the first thing he noticed as shaking brought Saint out of a deep sleep. Saint wondered if he’d had another nightmare even though he’d been sleeping more soundly since Max had joined him in bed every night. He’d recognize that smell of smoke anywhere. It was identical to the clinic when it was burned to the ground in South America. It wasn’t the pleasant smell of burning apple, cherry, or white oak, but the acrid scent of melting paint.

  “Saint, wake up.” The fear and anger in Max’s voice had him jackknifing upright.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Fire.”

  “Oh my god. Did our campfire spread?”

  “No. I poured three buckets of water on it before we came to bed. It’s coming from up by the house. Get dressed,” Max explained in a rush.

  Saint noticed the orange glow filling the camper and the fact that Max was almost fully dressed by this point. He jumped out of bed, grabbed his clothes, and dressed faster than he ever had. He skipped his socks and shoved his bare feet into his shoes before pulling his shirt over his head while jumping out of the camper.

  Max threw the truck into gear the moment Saint got his door shut. The glow from the flames was unmistakable and lit up the horizon. At this distance Saint couldn’t tell what exactly was on fire. He prayed it wasn’t the house. That Alex and Evie were fine. Then he remembered all the rescued animals and Emma. Shit.

  “Can you tell what’s on fire?” Saint asked nervously as he held on to the armrest and dash to steady himself while they flew down the bumpy trail.

  “Not yet,” Max replied. Saint noticed Max’s fingers were white from how hard he was squeezing the steering wheel.

  Off in the distance he could see flashing lights coming from the opposite direction. Help was on the way. As they got closer, Saint was overjoyed to find both the house and barn were untouched, but a smaller shed was fully engulfed in flames. The fire trucks beat them there by seconds and Saint knew better than to get in the professionals’ way.

  Instead, as Max headed toward the blaze to find out what was going on, Saint walked to the patio behind the house where Alex and Evie were standing in their housecoats.

  “Are you two okay?” Saint asked as he neared the two pale, trembling women. “Maybe you guys should sit down, the firefighters are here and Max will take care of everything. It’ll be all right.”

  The Connor women seemed to snap out of their temporary paralysis and allowed Saint to help both sit down in patio chairs. He ran back inside the house, grabbed a few blankets off the couch and bottles of water from the fridge. When he returned outside Saint could see Max was making his way over from the trucks as the area filled with the sounds of hissing from the water hitting the flames. Saint handed each of the two women a bottle and then proceeded to cover them both with extra blankets. It wasn’t overly cold, but considering the situation he felt the comfort would help them calm a bit. Shock was a tricky bugger and could sneak up on a person.

  He looked up to find Max watching him. “Is everything okay?”

  Max snapped out of it and took the last few steps to his mother’s side. “Mom, are you or Grandma hurt?”

  “No, no. Saint already asked us. We’re a little startled, that’s all. Your grandmother had the sense to call for help. I was useless,” Mom explained as she took a drink of her water, her hand still shaking slightly.

  “Didn’t take long for them to get here,” Evie noted before pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders. Saint quickly covered her back with the remainder of the fleece.

  “The fire is under control, it won’t have the chance to spread. The rest of the farm is safe,” Max assured as he hugged both women. “Thank you, Saint.”

  Saint wasn’t exactly sure what he was being thanked for but now wasn’t the time to ask. A man in a firefighter’s helmet was headed their way and he didn’t look happy. When he was within hearing distance, he hollered, “Max, we have a problem.” Confirming Saint’s biggest fear.

  ***

  Those words rang in Max’s head long after the chief informed him that they’d found a trail of burnt grass leading away from the shed. That fact along with the overwhelming smell of gasoline made the cause undeniable. Arson. Such a small word for such a horrible attack.

  The fire crew left after the last ember had been safely extinguished, and dawn had broken a half an hour ago. In the light gray-blue of the morning, the sight of the charred twenty- by twenty-foot storage shed looked like a macabre skeleton of sorts. Their two farm hands were already sifting through the rubble to check if anything was salvageable. Max doubted they’d find anything.

  They’d used the shed to store the lawnmower,
chain saw, garden tools, extra feed for a few of the animals, as well as odds and ends from around the farm that didn’t belong in the barn. Financially, it wasn’t as great a loss for them as the house or barn would have been, but the fact remained—someone came onto their property in the middle of the night to set a fire. It could have spread, and he could have lost his family. Someone would pay for this.

  Upon further investigation, one of the local police sergeants found a plastic six-gallon gas can about fifty feet away from the shed. They’d taken it with them to check for evidence and possible fingerprints. People living in Southern California didn’t take fire lightly with the constant risk of setting the trees and grasslands to a blaze that would risk life and property of the surrounding community. Whoever was responsible would be found. The police chief was not a man to be messed with.

  “How are you?” Saint’s soft voice surprised Max. He hadn’t heard him approaching. “I’ve made every one breakfast. I put a plate in the oven for you when you get a chance to eat.”

  Max turned and closed the distance between the two of them in three strides. “Thank you, babe, for everything you’ve done today.” Hugging him close, Max couldn’t erase the sight of Saint caring for his mom and grandma. It felt as though the moment was imprinted on his mind.

  For as long as Max could remember, he was the only person to take care of his family, as they took care of him. But to see Saint rush in to do whatever he could to take care of the two women who were Max’s heart loosened something deep inside of him. He had his other half, the man he could count on when things got crazy to have his back.

  “I wish I could have done more, considering.” Saint’s voice was heavy with guilt.

  “Considering what?” Max asked, having no clue what Saint had to be guilty about.

  “That this is likely my fault,” Saint admitted without looking at Max. Saint never took his eyes away from the charred timbers.

  “How could the shed burning down be your fault?” Max was even more confused than before.

  “Don’t you find it odd that now, when my father is in the area, that something like this happens on the farm?” Saint asked.

  Max pulled back so that he could get a better look at Saint. “We don’t know your father did this. Even if he did, there’s nothing for you to be sorry for. His actions are his own. You have no control over him and what he does. No one in my family would ever blame you.”

  “I know. You’re all so amazing. That’s why I have to leave.” Saint pointed toward his duffle bag sitting on the patio table. “It’s too dangerous for your family to be anywhere near me. At least until I figure out what to do about my father.”

  Max wasn’t one hundred percent sure what Saint had said after the word “leave,” and he didn’t care. “You’re not going anywhere.” A little heavy-handed but Max was still trying to process what was happening.

  “I have to, Max. It’s obvious I brought that crazy bastard here. What if he’d set fire to the house? Your family could have been killed. I won’t allow that to happen.”

  Saint released Max but there was no way he was letting Saint go. “You don’t have to go. We can figure this out together.”

  “It’s not forever, only until I deal with Thomas,” Saint explained, but he couldn’t hide the strain in his voice. A black town car pulled in and parked at the side of the house. “I called a car service to take me back to the city.”

  “You’re leaving right now? Got this all worked out, do you?” Max wasn’t sure where his anger was coming from but it began boiling and no matter what he tried, Max couldn’t calm himself. “Going to take off? I’ve had too many people who say they care about me walk out. Hell, my father couldn’t hack it.”

  “I’m not leaving you like your father did. I’m doing this for you and your family’s safety.” Max could hear the pleading in Saint’s voice, but his anger was too far gone.

  “Sure, go.” Max released Saint and turned his back on him to stare at the burned-out remains of the shed. Part of him was screaming for him to pull Saint back into his arms, the other lumped him in with Max’s father. Right or wrong, he couldn’t see his way clear of the angry fog surrounding him.

  “Max,” Saint said as he placed his hand on Max’s shoulder.

  “No,” Max replied as he brushed Saint’s hand away from him. “Leave, if that’s what you want to do.”

  “Please understand.”

  “Go.” Max shocked himself by yelling the word at Saint before walking away from the man he loved.

  His mind raced and his emotions raged, but he refused to look at Saint. It was better this way. Max should have known better.

  From several feet away Max heard Saint mumble. “I thought you said you’d never leave me.”

  “You’re the one who’s doing the leaving. Let’s get that straight,” Max yelled, causing the farm hands to stop working and look at the two of them.

  “It isn’t forever.” Saint’s desperation was clear in his voice.

  The words were even more distant by now. Max couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder in time to see Saint hugging Max’s mom and grandma before grabbing his bag and climbing into the backseat of the town car. Everything inside of him compelled Max to stop the car from leaving.

  However, the ghosts of the past kept him rooted to the spot, watching as the car turned around and drove away.

  As the vehicle became a black speck on the horizon, Max realized his mistake.

  What have I done?

  ***

  He watched the exchange with great interest through a pair of binoculars, never once revealing himself. His plan was falling into place nicely. Once he was finished, everything could go back to the way it had always been after this nuisance was eliminated.

  How could he have thought to carry on without me? He’d ensure that mistake never happened again.

  “Isn’t it sad how such horrible things happen to the nicest people?” the elderly Mrs. Cane said as she returned with a pot of tea. “It’s been such a long time since I’ve seen you, dear. What did you say you were doing now?”

  “Acquisitions, Mrs. Cane. I knew you’d be up early, so I thought I’d stop in on my way by.” The old bird wouldn’t remember him the moment he stepped out her front door, maybe sooner.

  “Of course, you’ve always been welcome here,” she said as she grabbed another photo album from the bookshelf. “You should see how big my great-grandchildren have gotten.”

  He looked at the elderly woman, a neighbor to the Connor farm, and suffering from an advanced case of Alzheimer’s. Maybe he’d do the old broad a favor and end her suffering. It was the least he could do after all of her hospitality.

  Pulling a small bottle from the inside pocket of his suit, he offered it to her. “This is a sweetener I found on my travels abroad. Would you like to try it?”

  As he expected, instead of appearing rude, Mrs. Cane took the offered bottle and added two drops to her tea. “You remembered how I loved my tea sweet, thank you.”

  Two drops would be more than enough.

  Now he’d wait.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Saint wandered through the silent halls and rooms of his building. He’d sent the crew away and shut down all the work that was being done. There was no way he’d risk someone else’s life if his father decided to try something when all the workers were in the building. The smell of fresh cut lumber was heavy in the air as he stepped through one condominium and into another. The load-bearing walls were still in place, but the others were still at the stud stage.

  His heart ached at the stillness.

  Miguel had taken Max’s belongings back to the shop for him. That way Saint wouldn’t have to see him. Finn was the only one allowed to remain because he had nowhere else to go and refused Saint’s offer to put him up in a nice hotel for the time being. Saint had become acutely aware that if someone wanted to get into the building, nothing would stop them even with the security system. He hoped he had enou
gh time to call the authorities and protect Finn.

  He ran his hand along the two by fours, imagining what he could have done with the building. Now that his father had reappeared in his life, Saint doubted his ability to finish the restoration.

  Max had been calling several times a day but as of yet, Saint hadn’t had the nerve to answer. Not after how they’d left things. He understood why Max was upset with him. If someone brought that bullshit to his mother’s front steps, Saint would be pissed right along with him.

  Saint realized that Max had taken his leaving the wrong way. He hadn’t intended for it to be permanent, only until Thomas Jeffrey had been taken care of. However, he couldn’t help but consider that this was for the best. Max had made it crystal clear that his leaving, even for a limited time, meant Saint was abandoning him. Even though in truth it was to protect Max’s family’s safety.

  Saint’s heart ached more than his body for the first time since he was shot, and Saint wasn’t entirely certain what to do about it. The fact that he loved the man he was trying to protect did not help matters. His entire being called out for Max, but the evil that was his father kept Saint on the safest path for Max’s sake.

  “Are you okay, boss?” Finn asked from somewhere behind him.

  Saint had enrolled Finn into Cal State even though the work on the building was at a standstill. His entire two years were paid in full. He wanted the young man to have an education and future, even if Saint’s future looked a touch bleak at the moment.

  “I’m good. Just having a look around. You all packed?” Saint asked before turning around. “Miguel should be here anytime to pick you up.” Saint had lost his objection to Miguel’s interest in Finn when it became obvious the Marine wasn’t making any moves on the young man.

  “I still don’t feel right leaving you here to face your father alone. What if he tries something? There’ll be no one here to help you,” Finn argued, but no matter the logic, Saint would face his father alone. Yes, he’d contacted his father and arranged for him to come to the building later tonight. There was no way he wanted Finn in the crossfire.