Jake
The Sinner Saints
Book 3
By
Adrienne Bell
Copyright 2015 by Adrienne Bell
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written consent from the author/publisher.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons living or dead, or places, events, or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are products of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Excerpts
About the Author
Dedication
This one’s for Lynn
Chapter One
All right. I’m going in. Off to make the stupidest mistake of my life.
Verity Green stared down at the text message she’d composed a little over fifteen minutes ago.
She drew in a deep breath. And then another. She tucked her knees in a little closer—as far as the tiny front seat of her economy-sized rental car would allow—but her thumb still refused to hit send.
Damn it.
She hadn’t spent the last six hours driving down the length of California’s Central Valley just to chicken out now.
Had she?
No, she had not. There was too much on the line.
Verity clenched her eyes shut, and hit the damned button. She kept them closed until, a couple of seconds later, the familiar chime of her text alert sounded in the empty car.
Yeah, right, you coward. You’ve been saying the same thing for the last 20 minutes.
Verity groaned aloud as she read Cheryl’s text. She should have known better than to hope for a sympathetic reply from her closest friend.
What was worse, Cheryl was right.
She was a coward. A big one. One that wasn’t any closer to stepping out of the safety of her car and onto the gravel parking lot of the Crossroads Saloon than when she’d pulled in nearly a half hour ago.
Well, if she was going to find her courage, she was going to have to do it soon. It was nearing eleven o’clock at night, and somehow Verity doubted that the atmosphere inside the rickety wooden roadhouse was going to improve as the night went on.
The parking lot was already almost full with Harleys and pickup trucks, new ones pulling in every minute. Soon they’d start overflowing onto the shoulder of the two-lane country road that led to this remote watering hole.
It was now or never.
Ignoring the loud voice arguing that never was the most obvious and rational choice, Verity forced her fingers around the door handle and pulled.
And why not? It seemed that she’d abandoned common sense a little over twenty-four hours ago, the moment that she’d received her brother’s letter—the one that had her emptying her bank account and flying all the way to California, looking to hire a man who was little better than a mercenary.
Here I go. If you don’t hear from me in the next half hour, call the police. Verity typed the text as she hurried across the dirt lot.
The reply came back almost immediately.
Setting the timer now.
Verity smiled as she heard Cheryl’s familiar sarcastic tone in her head. It was almost like a piece of her friend was here with her, pressing her to move out of her comfort zone, just like she did back at home.
A little of her fear dissipated at the thought.
Of course, it all came roaring back a second later when she raised her head and saw the crowd of about a dozen men that she’d have to push through to get to the entrance.
Verity pulled her sweater tighter over her chest and tilted her head down as she pushed her way through the crowd. Her black, curly hair flopped down like curtains shielding her eyes. Much to her relief, the move worked. No one said a word to her.
A wave of heat smacked Verity in the face as she pulled open the door. The dry October night might be unusually warm outside, but inside the bar it was practically sweltering.
It wasn’t surprising. The place was packed, filled up with all kinds of people—country boys playing pool at the tables, leather clad bikers spread out across the bar, all manner of other folks filling up the space in between.
And unlike the endless, horrible scenarios that had been running through Verity’s mind all day, no one seemed to notice how awkward or out of place she was. There were no glares or shouts. No one seemed to notice her at all.
Suddenly, Verity started to feel silly for being so paranoid. Being both a big girl and on the shy side usually meant that she didn’t attract a lot of attention, male or otherwise. There’d been no reason to believe that this bar would be different than any other just because it was unfamiliar.
Still, she kept her head down and kept her hand wrapped tight around her handbag as she moved deep into the sea of people, looking for the man she’d come for.
Verity didn’t imagine he’d be hard to find. Based on the picture she had on her phone, Jake Thorne wasn’t the kind of man who blended into a crowd.
Of course, she’d been wrong before. After five minutes and two trips back and forth along the length of the bar, she still hadn’t spotted him.
Maybe her information was bad. Maybe he wasn’t here. Maybe she was too late and he’d already gone home for the night. A thousand possibilities floated through Verity’s head, all of them ending with her throwing in the towel and hightailing it out of there.
She’d just let out a sigh that was half-defeat, half-relief when she spotted a man sitting alone in the darkest corner. She squinted, trying to get a better view of his features in the low light, but it was useless. The crowd was too thick and the dingy green light fixture hanging above his booth too dim. As it was, all she could make out was a glimpse of short, dark brown hair and broad shoulders.
But it was enough.
She took a few tentative steps toward him, sneaking around one of the billiard tables.
It was Jake Thorne, all right. Verity sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of the man sitting perfectly still in the booth, staring at the nearly empty glass in front of him.
He was massive, with arms so big they stretched the cuffs of his solid black T-shirt. Nearly every inch of exposed arm below was covered in tattoos. What looked like a week’s worth of beard lined his jaw. Bold, dark brows slashed above his eyes. Light and shadow played across his face making him look every bit as hard and dramatic as anything that Caravaggio had ever painted.
But Jake Thorne was most definitely not made of oil and canvas. He was real.
Maybe a little too real.
He proved her right a second later when his head snapped toward her, piercing her with a sharp gaze.
Heat rushed to Verity’s cheeks as she instinctively turned away.
Crap. He’d caught her staring. There was no pretending that she’d been doing anything else. It wasn’t her fault. The man was just so much more alive than he looked in his picture. She’d just been momentarily overwhelmed. That was all.
Verity was able to rationalize away some of her embarrassment, but it
all came rushing right back the moment she turned back around and saw that his eyes were still on her.
She needed to get over there and explain herself before he got the wrong idea.
Verity forced herself to keep moving forward even though his stony gaze stayed fixed on her the entire way. By the time she made it to the side of his table her knees were shaking so bad that she could barely hold herself up.
“J-Jake Thorne?” she asked.
Verity swallowed past the lump in her throat as a long beat of silence followed. His brows pulled down over his dark amber eyes. The line of his lips hardened. Eventually, he turned away.
“Keep walking, lady,” he said.
Verity blinked.
“What?” she asked.
“I’m not the guy you’re looking for.”
“Yes, you are.” Verity pulled out her phone just to be sure. She brought up his photo and placed it right in front of him on the table. “You’re Jake Thorne.”
He glanced down at the screen, then back up to the empty space in front of him.
“I don’t know what you want, lady, but I’d keep moving if I were you,” he said.
“I can’t do that,” she said.
“Of course, you can.” He wrapped his hand around his glass and downed the rest of his drink. “Just keep putting one foot in front of the other until you’re out the door.”
Verity’s mouth fell open. “But I’ve come a long way to find you.”
“Not my problem.”
Verity stared down at the massive man, not knowing what to do. On one hand, she’d come too far to turn back now. There was too much at stake to pretend otherwise. On the other, it was obvious that Jake Thorne wasn’t interested in helping her. Hell, he didn’t even want her standing by his table.
Well, that was too damn bad, wasn’t it? It wasn’t like she’d wanted to travel thousands of miles out to the middle of nowhere just to find a brute, who apparently couldn’t stand the sight of her. It looked like everybody was going to have to learn to deal with disappointment tonight.
Verity dipped down to the bottom of her quickly dwindling supply of courage, and sat down on the bench across from him. His back straightened and his shoulders squared as she slid into his line of sight. She paled as he seemed to grow even larger in front of her eyes.
Damn, the man was intimidating.
“Maybe I didn’t make myself clear.” His voice was so deep and low it practically vibrated the table under her fingers. “I’m not looking for company.”
“And I’m not coming on to you,” Verity blurted out.
Crap.
Her face instantly started to burn again as his brows arched.
“Not that you aren’t worth flirting with.” The words tumbled from her lips before she could stop them. “It’s just…I mean…look at me. I’m obviously not your type. Which is fine, cause you’re not exactly mine either. Which isn’t to say that you’re not attractive, just—”
“What do you want?” he mercifully cut her off.
Verity drew in a deep breath as she tried to wrangle her composure back under control. Surprisingly, he gave her the time.
“I’m sorry. I think that we got off to a bad start,” she said after a few seconds.
“You think?”
“I’ve never been very good at first impressions,” she went on. “And my jitters aren’t helping.”
“Maybe you’d be more comfortable somewhere else.”
“You have no idea how true that is.” She gave a small laugh. He didn’t join her.
He leaned forward into the murky light. The shadows across his face deepened, instantly draining away all of her humor.
“Who are you?” he asked, his voice hard.
“V-Verity Green.”
“Is that name supposed to mean something to me?” he asked.
Verity shook her head. “I doubt it.”
His eyes narrowed. That obviously wasn’t the answer he wanted.
“So, what the hell do you want with me, lady?”
“My brother told me to find you,” Verity said in a rush.
“Your brother?” Deep furrows appeared in his brow. For a hired gun, Jake Thorne had an amazingly expressive face.
Verity nodded. “Roman.”
“Roman?” Jake let out a sharp laugh. “Your brother is Roman Green?”
“He is.” The pit in the center of Verity’s belly widened. That didn’t sound good.
“You’re right.” A mocking smile spread across Jake’s face. “You are crap at introductions.”
Verity rubbed her thumb nervously against the worn tabletop. “I take it you’re not good friends with Roman.”
Another taunting laugh erupted from his throat.
“That’s a kind way to put it.” Jake leaned back in his seat, giving her a long, assessing look. A second later, he lifted his hand, signaling the waitress. “But, I’ll tell you what. You’ve given me the first real laugh I’ve had in a couple of months. So for that, I’ll buy you a drink.”
“That isn’t necessary.” Verity shook her head, but the waitress was already on her way over.
“What’ll you have?” Jake asked.
“Doesn’t matter,” Verity said quickly. “Whatever you’re drinking is fine.”
His brows arched up as he leaned back in his seat. “You sure about that?”
“Yeah,” Verity nodded. Alcohol was the last thing that Verity cared about right now. All that mattered was getting Jake Thorne to agree to help her, and if sharing a drink with him was the only way to buy a few more minutes of his time, then she’d pretend to swallow moonshine.
“Two more then,” Jake said to the waitress, holding up his empty glass. He waited until she’d walked away before turning back to Verity. “So tell me, what in the world does Roman Green want from me? And why’d he think it would be a good idea to send his innocent sister to come get it?”
Verity lifted her chin a notch. It was one thing to be ignored; it was another to be dismissed. “Who said I was innocent?”
A wide, wicked smile spread across Jake’s face. “I don’t know where you came from, lady, but I can guarantee that you are, by far, the most pristine thing that has ever walked into this godforsaken place.”
“Ann Arbor.”
“Excuse me?”
“You said you didn’t know where I came from.” Verity met his gaze. “Ann Arbor, Michigan. I’m an assistant professor of Art History at the University of Michigan.”
“Good for you.” He didn’t sound all that impressed.
“And Roman didn’t exactly send me,” she said.
“No?” Jake crossed his arms in front of his chest. Damn, it looked like the man was made of nothing but muscle. “Then why don’t you tell me exactly what it is that you are doing here.”
Verity swallowed past the quickly growing lump in her throat and reached into her bag. She pulled out a plain white envelope and slid it across the tabletop.
Jake didn’t make a move to touch it.
“What is it?” he asked.
“A letter,” Verity said, sliding it an inch closer to him. “I received it in the mail from Roman yesterday. It explains everything.”
Jake’s eyes narrowed. “You tell me.”
Verity blinked. It looked like he was determined not to make any part of this easy on her.
“Okay,” she said, clearing her throat. “It describes a mission his Special Forces unit was on a couple years ago in Afghanistan. Apparently, in the course of patrolling a small village, they found a stockpile of priceless, ancient Afghani art.”
“You’re telling me they just happened to find this treasure in a storeroom underneath a random house?” Jake asked skeptically.
“It really isn’t all that surprising.” Verity nodded. “Decades ago, when the Taliban was taking over, the Afghani museum community was in a panic. They faced the challenge of finding hiding places for as many of their national treasures as they could manage before the zealots
could smash and burn it all. Whole collections were scattered across the country, squirreled away in hundreds of secret locations. Many of these hiding spots were in the homes of people who were dedicated to keeping their history safe until the day that the items could be returned to their former glory.”
“And let me guess,” Jake said, tilting his head to the side. “Your brother and his unit failed to report what they’d found and, smuggled the treasure back to the States.”
Verity’s spine straightened. He didn’t sound surprised. And here she’d been trying to make herself believe that this was just a single lapse in judgement on her brother’s part.
She should have known better.
“Exactly,” she said.
Just then, the waitress returned, placing two tumblers of strong amber liquor down on the table. Jake gave her a nod of acknowledgement, but the woman lingered at the table’s edge. It was clear—even to someone as innocent as Verity—that she was hoping for a stronger show of gratitude. A moment later, when it became obvious that she wasn’t going to get it, she turned and walked away.
Jake waited until they were alone again before continuing. “So what’s your part in all this?”
“Roman wrote asking for my help in authenticating the items they found,” she admitted.
“So they could fetch a better price on the black market.” It wasn’t a question. He made it sound like a forgone conclusion. “And you came.”
Verity’s gaze slid down to her glass. Sure, the contents smelled like barrel-aged gasoline, but now that it was in front of her, it was hard to shake the feeling that she could really use a drink.
“It’s not like that,” Verity said.
Jake shot her a wry smile. “Then why don’t you tell me what it’s like.”
“I didn’t fly all the way out here to help my brother sell the art he found.” Verity wrapped her fingers around the tumbler and pulled it closer. “I’m here to try to rescue it.”
Jake’s brows arched slightly. “And how exactly are you planning on doing that?”
“Roman didn’t ask me to come out until the middle of next week. He gave me the address, an empty farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. I’m guessing that’s where Roman is hiding everything.”
Jake: The Sinner Saints #3 Page 1
