Never Trust a Saint (LOS SANTOS Cartel story #1)

by Melissa Jane

  NEVER

  TRUST

  A

  SAINT

  Los Santos cartel story

  Book 1

  By

  Melissa Jane

  Never Trust a Saint

  Published by Melissa Jane

  © Copyright 2016

  This book is licensed for your enjoyment only. It is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblances to people living or dead, locales and events are entirely coincidental. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient

  Produced by Melissa Jane

  Front cover by: Melissa Jane

  Editor: Kaylene at Swish Design & Editing

  For more information about Melissa Jane’s books, please visit

  www.facebook.com/authormelissajane

  Twitter @MJane_Author

  Instagram @melissa.jane.author

  Books by Melissa Jane

  The Los Santos Cartel Series

  Never Trust a Saint (Book 1)

  The Perfect Stranger (Book 2)

  The White Rabbit (Book 3)

  The Bittersweet Series:

  Little Doll (Book 1)

  Crimson Desert (Book 2)

  Laughing Eyes (Book 3)

  Sofia (Book 4)

  Standalone: Romantic Comedy

  Tequila Nights

  If you look your saint in the eye and all you see is the devil…run!

  Prologue

  As soon as I saw it, the game was over. I’d been played from the start. The odds had been against me the entire time, my gut instinct screaming ‘I told you so.’ Why did I never listen?

  The tattoo of the Virgin Mary.

  It represented everything I was fighting against. It told the story of how my partner was murdered. And now here it was, on the man who I thought was on my side. The man I thought would have my back. Yet, he was the very man who had led me to the biggest ambush of them all, his gun and that of four others pointed straight at me.

  I had been his bait.

  I had let him lure me here.

  And, as I was about to die, I learned the hardest lesson of all.

  Never trust a saint.

  Chapter 1

  “You gonna eat that?” my partner, Agent Tomas Garcia asked, eyeing up the rest of my pumpkin pie.

  “Nope. Yours,” I said, pushing my plate across the grimy table and between his greedy little hands. Nowhere near our regular haunt, we were trying out a new diner after a lengthy court session and I just wasn’t feeling its unhygienic vibe.

  “What’s wrong?” He stabbed a piece of pie with his fork while glancing up, a wicked gleam in his milk chocolate eyes. “Trying to fit your ass into that dress tonight?”

  “I’ll have you know it fits like a glove.”

  “Does that mean too tight?”

  “Fuck you!”

  “Okay.”

  I snorted a laugh because while he probably meant it, we both knew we just weren’t compatible. He preferred the skinny girls who required far more maintenance than needed and well… I had curve that could possibly be due to excess pumpkin pie and I got by without regular visits to the salon. And Tomas? He just wasn’t my type. Despite having the most beautiful complexion, an African American/Hispanic mix, he was just too sweet for my usual type. Even with his incessant teasing, we were close friends in and out of our field. We both worked for the FBI as fraud and money laundering specialists and for a year, we’d been partners.

  “You still my date for tonight then?” he asked shoveling another forkful of dessert into his mouth.

  “Do you even need to ask?”

  “Just checking. Delacroix reckons he has a new assignment for us.”

  “Oh yeah?” This piqued my interest. We had just settled a heavy case and I was always excited to start another one. Garcia always put my enthusiasm down to being a rookie and that give or take a few years I will be desperate for an out.

  “Apparently, we have a meeting tomorrow with LA agents,” he continued.

  “Does that mean we get to leave New York for a while?” I enjoyed the heat but the city was always prone to a sticky humidity that became unbearable.

  “Maybe.” I could tell even he was excited by the prospect.

  “So, you gonna tell me where you went for your week long vacation?”

  Holding his fork mid-air, he looked like I was asking a stupid question.

  “I told you.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “Woman, do you not listen to a word I say? I told you I was in Arizona.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yeah, that’s so.” His voice became high-pitched. A tell-tale sign he was lying.

  “Okay,” I said unconvinced.

  “What? You wanna ghost me now?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Like to see you try being incognito with that ass of yours.”

  “I’ll break your face.”

  Tomas flashed me a wicked grin which in turn brought out my own. Although it didn’t look it at some points, we worked well together. For some reason, he was keeping his holiday venture a secret from me, and for now, I would respect him holding onto it. But I was also well aware of the fact that he only ever lied to protect me.

  ***

  “Sweet mother of Jesus!” Tomas’s eyes widened in appreciation. “You do put yourself together well,” he exclaimed, kissing me on the cheek.

  “As do you. Nice suit.” I admired the tailored Armani. Although he earned more than me, I often wondered just how big the pay gap was considering his beautiful apartment, clothes, and car. He was certainly a man who enjoyed the finer things in life.

  “You were right about it fitting like a glove. Who did all this?” He waved his hand around indicating my made up face and long wavy hair.

  “Me,” I replied indignantly. “I actually do put in an effort when I come to work. You know hair, makeup, nice clothes. It’s not such a huge change.”

  “Yeah, but you don’t have your bits on display at work.”

  I threw a glance down at the elegant strapless floor length dress. “My bits are not…” Meeting his humored eyes, I saw the familiar twinkle that told me he was teasing and jabbed him in the ribs with my polished nail.

  “Relax, Nina…” his tone became sincere, features softening, “…you look absolutely beautiful. Now get on my arm so I can parade you around.”

  I hooked my arm through his and we both absorbed the grand room ahead before making our entry.

  It was ridiculously extravagant, no expense spared. The ballroom was huge and filled with the likes of politicians, staff who belonged to the DEA and FBI as well as the NYC Mayor. Tomas and I were expected to attend as we were the leading agents fighting the recent pharmaceutical war. Our latest case was almost a year in the making after a young upstart bought his way into a company selling affordable drugs for HIV sufferers. Not long after taking on his new role, the price of the drugs jumped seven thousand percent rendering it impossible for suffers to afford any treatment. It was a low act and a very public one. After some investigation, it was discovered he signed and submitted false documents to acquire legal possession of the company rightfully left to the original business partner. The man he defrauded? His father. The lawyer who signed off on the paperwork? His girlfriend of three months.

  Accepting a glimmering glass of champagne, I watched as my colleagues and those I didn’t know, shook hands and made bold declarations, most of them false, that the war on fraud was under control.

  “C
ross. Garcia,” came the unenthused voice belonging Chief Delacroix.

  “Boss,” we both responded in unison. He was a balding man who always seemed like his mind was elsewhere and more often than not, in a dark place.

  “Cross, you shape up nicely,” he said, eyes assessing my appearance almost like he was double checking to see if it was really me.

  “See, I told you,” Garcia insisted.

  “It’s like you all think I’m a hobo at work. The only thing different is I’m in a dress and my hair is down,” I stated, slightly confused. Their compliments were greatly appreciated, but their shocked expressions were a little extreme.

  “I’ll pay more attention next time,” the boss offered with little sincerity. “Garcia,” he turned his attention to Tomas, “find some time, we need to talk.”

  “Okay,” was all the response he gave. I could have been wrong but I was certain there was a hint of defiance in his tone.

  With a nod, the Chief went to leave. As usual, he looked distracted, eyes darting around the room, the crease lines on his forehead becoming more pronounced. Swiping another glass of champagne off a passing tray, he downed the whole lot. Without saying a word, he discarded the glass on a nearby table and left in search of his next target.

  “Is he okay?”

  Garcia shook his head also confused over the boss’s behavior. “He seems fidgety more than usual.”

  “Why does he need to see you?”

  He shrugged his shoulders not meeting my eyes. “Don’t know. Guess I’ll find out tomorrow. Let’s find our table.”

  Accepting his answer, though still finding it odd, I let him steer me to the sectioned dining area. The tables were elaborately decorated and the glimmering of the chandelier above offered an intimate glow. Weaving our way through the maze, we located our names as others also began to take their seats at the round tables. Soft orchestra music played live nearby and I could feel my shoulders beginning to relax as the mood took me. Our line of work was hectic almost every second of the day and rarely did I find the time to unwind.

  Just as the waiter placed my entrée in front of me, Tomas’s cell rang. Retrieving it from his jacket pocket, I noticed it wasn’t the typical agency issued smartphone. Checking the number, his eyes shot to mine then back again as he cut the call off. Clearing his throat he slid it back in his pocket and avoided my stare. Tomas’s behavior was off and there was definitely something amiss, but our relationship was built on trust and when he felt comfortable talking to me about it then I’d listen.

  As I was enjoying a sliver of roasted duck a feeling came over me. The type of feeling that both piques one's curiosity and screams that something just isn’t right. The small hairs on the back of my neck stood on end and my skin goose bumped. Shaking it off as nothing, I continued eating until another ripple coursed through me.

  It was stronger this time.

  Was it a possible threat in the air demanding my attention or the curious wayward stare of an onlooker raising my hackles?

  Sitting back sipping my champagne, I scanned the room of people that was now mostly seated except for some struggling to finish their respective conversations, their bodies lost in the maze of tables.

  Coming to a standstill, I froze as another gaze locked on mine. He sat two rows across to my right, dark impenetrable eyes watching my every move.

  Slightly narrowed with a sense of brooding, he held my stare, jaw locked in place. He sat with his chair angled from the table, one ankle on top of the other knee, his fingers drumming a slow mesmerizing beat on the table. Like a stormy sea he swallowed me whole and I found myself not even fighting it.

  For some reason, the somewhat ridiculous effect he had on me was showing. My chest rose and fell heavily, my own eyes narrowing to meet his intimidating challenge, yet beneath it all the man was throwing me off kilter. My throat suddenly dry and heartbeat accelerated. Not even when others crossed our line of sight did he waiver.

  “Who is that?” I asked Tomas being careful not to noticeably move my mouth.

  There was a pause before he answered as he casually sussed the stranger out. “I don’t know, but he has a thing for you. You sure you don’t know him?”

  “Positive. That’s a face I’d never forget.”

  He was handsome, rugged almost, and slightly older than me. There was nothing ‘pretty’ about him. Even in an expensive looking tailored suit, he looked manlier than any others in the room. To me, he was my perfection. With a trimmed five day growth, he was every bit oozing the life experience I desperately wanted a slice of. His dark hair complemented his tanned possibly Hispanic skin, and a faint smear of dark circles under his eyes added to the brooding stare he had mastered.

  Strong, broad shoulders took up space under his deep grey suit. The type of shoulders that could handle anything thrown at him.

  No, he wasn’t a pretty man. He was gorgeously manly and my traitorous body was having a response to him in a way it had never experienced before.

  Beside me, Tomas cleared his throat. “Should I get you two a room?”

  That was enough to pull me back to reality albeit a little turned on. “What? No! I’m simply trying to figure out who he is.”

  “By eye fucking him?”

  “Tomas, I was not eye fucking.”

  “Trust me, I know sex with the eyeballs when I see it.”

  “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

  Was it that obvious?

  During that time, my empty plate had been replaced with the main meal. Eyeing the delicious food, I realized I was no longer hungry, my appetite quickly abandoning me along with my nerve. Cautiously glancing back up, the brooding man was gone, his chair pushed back neatly into place as though he was never there. There was a sense of relief and disappointment at his sudden departure, a mix that didn’t sit comfortably either way. Only moments later my attention was quickly drawn to a terse interaction occurring out of earshot.

  “Who is the Chief talking to?” I asked, nudging Tomas in the ribs to get his attention.

  Again he followed my gaze to where Chief Delacroix and another man seemed engaged in a heated conversation. They were doing their best to reign it in, but their body language clearly revealed the tension between the two. Then unexpectedly, they both turned and looked directly at us.

  “Are they talking about us? Have we done something wrong?” Uncomfortable with the stare off, the two men, without saying another word departed in opposite directions.

  “Odd,” Tomas conceded. “Maybe it has something to do with the new case tomorrow. Shall we?” he asked with his hand extended to take mine.

  “We shall,” I accepted, pleased for the distraction. Leading me to the dance floor, we weaved between other couples before we found an opening.

  “How’s the dating going?” I asked with a tease, getting into position.

  “It’s not,” he replied indifferently, looking absently over my shoulder as he moved me around.

  “What do you mean? You spent a week away from the job and you didn’t think to line up a few dates.”

  “Nina, I’m too busy for the shenanigans you imagine me getting up to.”

  “Too busy?”

  “Yes,” he replied curtly sending me out in an amateur twirl.

  “Well, since you don’t tell me what you do in your spare time anymore I’m happy to speculate.”

  Before Tomas could respond, my smile faded and my body slowed.

  I couldn’t see him, but I could feel him. I tensed, the hairs on my neck again rising to the sensation.

  “What is it?” Tomas asked, brows furrowed in question.

  “Nothing,” I downplayed. Because even as I looked around the room between the mass of socialites and dignitaries’, the man from earlier was no longer in sight. Falling back into rhythm we continued dancing, but unlike before the feeling could not be shaken.

  He was here.

  But where?

  And why did he give me the chills?


  When the song ended, Garcia squeezed my neck and took my hand. We were almost off the dance floor when he alerted me.

  “Your nine o’clock closing in fast,” Tomas said, his mouth moving like a ventriloquist.

  Braving a look, I inwardly cringed.

  “Oh God, do something.”

  “Like what?”

  “Anything!” My hiss went unheard as Garcia, my work partner and best friend released my hand and made a quick step in the opposite direction, leaving me vulnerable to the elements or who in this case was Jarrett Lloyd. A pompous ex-college jock who still carried the frat boy mentality.

  “Nina!” he announced, drawing out my name. He was a good looking self-assured man and unbeknownst to him—despite numerous shake offs—I never planned to lay a finger on his athletic body.

  “Jarrett,” I greeted in turn, my voice lacking enthusiasm. That didn’t deter him.

  “Nina, I always knew under that pantsuit you wear every day there’s a kick-ass body.”

  “Well, apparently it’s been a shock to everyone,” I replied, deadpan.

  What did they all expect me to wear at work?

  “Mind if I?” Without waiting for a response, Jarrett took my hand and pulled me along behind him.

  “I’ve really got to go,” I said, trying to reclaim my limb.

  “Nonsense. You can afford one dance.” Although he turned and smiled, it was one of those that said he wasn’t taking no for an answer. I wasn’t one to cause a scene, not unless under extreme duress, so he already having the upper-hand was not working to my advantage.

  While looking for Garcia, who had conveniently managed to disappear, an arm wrapped around my waist that didn’t belong to my determined dance partner. I was pulled back against a hard chest causing my hand to break free from Jarrett’s, his stern face turning on me in suppressed anger.

  “You ready?” my rescuer asked with a false familiarity. Looking up, I saw it was the perfect stranger from earlier. His brooding gaze was cast upon my face, eyeing me as if we were lovers. A small delicious shiver crept over my body and the small smile forming on his lips told me he noticed.