Sinner's Saint: A Dark Mafia Captive Romance

by Bella King

  “Where are we taking this thing?” I asked.

  “Pretty far away,” Saint replied. “They’re not going to look outside the city for it. It would be fine to push it into a lake.”

  “It’s a shame to waste it. I don’t even have a car,” I said.

  He glanced at me. “We could get you one once this is all over. I know you’re going to want to report me to the police and all that, but I’ll be long gone by the time you’re back with your family.”

  “You would do that?” I asked, perking up.

  “Sure. Why not? I put you through all this shit for a few months during the trial. I think you should get something for it.”

  I laughed. “You should pay me for my time. This could have been a legal arrangement, you know?”

  Saint laughed with me. “It’s a little too late for than now. Plus, you would get in trouble for meddling in the case if things went sour. This way, you’re just a victim.”

  “I’m never a victim,” I said proudly, even though it wasn’t true.

  Saint glanced at me again. “You’re probably the strangest woman I’ve ever had to keep prisoner.”

  “I thought I was the only one,” I said, frowning.

  “There have been others,” he replied casually.

  “Like who?”

  “People. Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to, Ruth. It’s better that you don’t know much about me.”

  “So, you can see me naked and eat me out in your bed, and I can’t know anything about you? That doesn’t seem fair,” I said, tugging on the cuff to drive in my point.

  “I wish that I could, Ruth. I really do. I think you’re a pretty nice girl, and in another life, I would want to see where things went between us,” he said, staring far out of the front windshield as we drove down a long road.

  “You’re the one who made this complicated,” I said. “I would have considered hanging out with you if you just rescued me and called it a day.”

  Saint shook his head. “You don’t want to be with a crook like me. I have obligations to the devil that I can’t ignore.”

  “Why?” I asked, not understanding how he could feel so drawn to a life that was so terrible. With the money he had, he could just leave. I didn’t know what was holding him back.

  “I can’t tell you why. It’s complicated. Stop asking questions.”

  “I like to know things,” I replied.

  “I hate to burst your bubble, but there are some things that you’ll never know.”

  “You can be really annoying sometimes,” I said, glaring at him.

  “Same with you,” Saint replied.

  “At least I’m not hiding things about myself. I’ve been super open with you,” I argued.

  “Cool. I don’t care,” he said, his eyes remaining trained on the road ahead.

  “Why do you care about the Syndicate trial?” I asked, trying to dig for more information.

  “Did I not just tell you to stop asking so many questions?” he said, sounding quite ticked off now.

  I wondered if I should press him further, or if he would throw me in the lake with the van if I pushed him any more. I would have crossed my arms and continued to glare at him, but I was still cuffed to him. Instead, I groaned and looked out the side window, giving him the silent treatment.

  I watched the sunset as we drove for half an hour down a road that quickly turned to farmland. We were out in the countryside. This wouldn’t be a good place to run when Saint finally uncuffed me. I would be caught in an instant, and there would be nobody there to see me in peril.

  Orange rays melted down the edges of the trees as the sun glittered behind them. This time of day was my favorite because I loved how pink and orange the sky got. I felt like people forgot about nature too often. I made it a point to get outside as much as I could, even if it was hot and humid most of the time.

  “We might have to drive back in the rain,” Saint said, finally speaking after half an hour of silence.

  I looked up at the sky through the front windshield to see that he was right. There were thick gray clouds floating quickly into view, like the smoke before a fire. When it rained here, it poured, and these clouds looked like they were bringing a hell of a storm.

  Saint slowed the van down as we turned down a dirt road. It bumped and wiggled against the uneven path as he brought us down to a lake. There were no houses nearby, and nobody would see what we were here to do.

  The van finally came to a stop just a few feet from the water, and Saint turned off the car, leaving the keys in the ignition. “I’ll put in neutral once we get the motorcycle out,” he said, then tugged on the cuff to get me to follow him out through his side of the car.

  I hopped over the seat and jumped out with him into the heavy evening air. It smelled like ozone and petrichor, the scent of rain, as Saint led me around the van to retrieve his motorcycle. The tall grass around us waved in the strengthening wind, an indication that the storm would soon be over us. I doubted that we would get back to town before it began.

  The rain was normally a soothing thing for me, but with how I was dressed, I wasn’t going to enjoy it much. All I had on was the t-shirt and pajama pants that Saint had given me, and I would be soaked through and through if we road even just a few minutes through one of the torrential downpours that Florida was notorious for.

  Still, I felt a sense of peace at the impending rain. No matter who you were or where you came from, whether you were a crook or a law-abiding citizen, nature was the great equalizer. Nobody could fight against the storm. We all hide to hide away from it and wait for it to pass.

  Was that not what I was doing now - moving in unison with Saint as he pulled the motorcycle from the back of the van, smelling the fresh scent of oil and black lubricant, obeying his every command until the storm had passed and I would be free to live my life again? I had shelter now, but I was trying to get away from the storm entirely. Would I be able to, or would it keep following me, the clouds rolling in faster than I could evade them?

  “We’re going to need to hurry up,” Saint said once the motorcycle was rolled out onto the dirt road behind the van.

  “Yeah, I don’t want to get soaked,” I said, looking up at the sky. After I spoke, a drop of water fell into my eye.

  The rain was here.

  Saint pulled me along with him back to the front of the van. He opened the door and reached over into the driver’s side, shifting the van into neutral so that it would roll into the lake. Thankfully, we were on a slope, so most of the work was cut out for us.

  “It’s easier than it looks,” Saint said as we went to the rear of the van. “Just plant your feet in the ground with your back against the door and push with your thighs.”

  Saint and I pressed our backs against the closed double doors on the rear of the van, pushing our feet into the dry dirt as the van began to move toward the water. He was right about it being easier than it looked. I always thought that because cars were so heavy that they would be nearly impossible to move. In neutral, the van rolled along quite easily and was soon welcomed into the cool depths of the lake.

  “Piece of cake,” I said enthusiastically as we watched the van slowly sink into the lake, rolling deeper as it dropped off a hidden ledge and was consumed by the water completely. It disappeared, large bubbles rising to the surface as it sank.

  “Perfect,” Saint said. “That went better than I thought it would. Let’s get out of here before the rain hits.”

  “It’s already coming down,” I said, holding my free hand up to feel the little sprinkle of water falling from the sky.

  Saint held out his hand to match mine and nodded. “Let’s get out of here then. I need to uncuff you.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small key. That key was the only thing that separated me from my freedom when we weren’t at his apartment.

  He pressed the key into the lock and clicked open the cuffs, letting both of our wrists breathe again. I rubbed mine, fe
eling the indent that the solid metal had left in my skin. It was a stark reminder that my connection to Saint wasn’t my choice, even if I would have wanted it to be. At the end of the day, I was a tool for him to influence a court case.

  “Take this,” Saint said, shoving a large black helmet into my hands before he climbed onto the front of the motorcycle.

  “Don’t you need one too?” I asked as I placed it over my head.

  “I only have one,” he replied, kicking a pedal to get the vehicle started. The engine roared to life, much louder than any car would have been. With the engine exposed, motorcycles were considerably noisier.

  “I don’t know how to ride on one of these,” I shouted over the sound of the engine. I looked over the rear of the motorcycle. It didn’t look like there was much room there for me.

  “Just hop on and grab my waist. You’ll be alright,” Saint assured me.

  My hands were shaking as I got on the back, scooting myself up until I was firmly pressed against his broad back. I felt safer now that I was on, and when I wrapped my hands around his trim waist, I felt like everything was going to be alright. As wild as it was, being with Saint, I always felt good when I was this close to him.

  That comfort was quickly erased when the motorcycle jerked into movement. I tightened my grip around Saint and pressed my helmeted head between his shoulder blades. I was afraid to fall all. If I did, my body would be a mangled mess by the time it came to a stop. Even at the slow speed we were going at, I felt like the ground was flying at breakneck speed beneath my feet.

  Saint reached a hand around and patted me on my thigh when he stopped at the intersection to enter back onto the main road. The like sprinkle of rain was forming into large drops, but I couldn’t feel them as much under the helmet I had on.

  The roads were the slickest during the first few minutes of rain. That was because all the grime and car oil that had built up on the tar would be wet again, and it wouldn’t be washed off the road until the rain really started pouring down. It made me nervous as Saint sped down the long road back to town.

  Saint and I couldn’t have a conversation over the sound of the engine, the wind, and now the rain. All I could do was hug his large body as tight as I could and watch as the trees became a blur to either side of us.

  I was frozen in terror on the motorcycle, but the vibrations were making me feel good inside again. I wanted to squirm against the leather seat, but I was too afraid to move an inch. I felt like if I did, I might go flying off into the road, so I stayed still as the vibrations from the seat permeated my groin.

  The vibrations weren’t as centralized or powerful enough to build me up to an orgasm as I was led to believe by pop culture, but they did feel good. The heat of Saint’s body and the feeling of rumbling leather between my legs took the edge off my anxiety about dying in a horrific wreck during the storm.

  As we moved toward the city, the rain increased until it was getting hard to see ahead of us. I peaked over Saint’s shoulder through the rain as he began to slow down. There were two red taillights in front of us, breaking hard in the rain.

  At first, I thought they had come upon flooding in the road that would make it hard to cross, but as men began to pile out of the vehicle in front of us, I realized what this was. It was the Southside Syndicate, and they had found me yet again.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Saint kicked the motorcycle back into gear as the men rushed toward us, trying to stop us from escaping. With motorcycles, you can’t travel backward in the same way that you can with a car, so Saint took a sharp turn and flew around the car, narrowly avoiding one of the gangsters.

  “Hold on,” Saint shouted back toward me as the motorcycle skidded across the slick pavement.

  I could barely hear him over the sound of the engine and the rain, but I gripped him as tight as I could, praying that we wouldn’t crash. I was more concerned about being crumbled in a heap of twister metal than being captured by the Syndicate again.

  My stomach was in a knot, and my wet knuckles gripped Saint’s jacket tight enough to squeeze water out of it as we tore through the streets, dodging the crawling cars like it was all a game. The only thing we could see ahead through the sheets of pouring rain was the glow of taillights as we approached heavier traffic. Saint didn’t slow down.

  I could hear the Syndicate’s van behind us, another clone of the black van we had dumped in the lake. They should have switched their vehicle to something less conspicuous because even in the sheets of white rain, I could make out the glossy black bumper as it came into view behind us.

  “Go!” I shrieked as the van threatened to slam into us.

  Saint took a tight route between two crawling cars, giving us a moment of safety before the driver of the van managed to get around them. We had an advantage with such a small vehicle, but we were also putting our lives at risk by driving through the rain like this. Even the smallest mistake would have out guts stretched across the gritty asphalt. The Southside Syndicate could afford to be reckless. We couldn’t.

  We peeled down another road, this time, one that I was familiar with. We weren’t far from Saint’s apartment, but he wasn’t heading in that direction. I assumed he didn’t want to lead the Syndicate to his home. As far as we knew, they had no idea where he lived, but I didn’t understand how they had found us. They had appeared out of nowhere, and they were still on our tail.

  I hugged Saint as he titled the motorcycle around a corner, the back tire stuttering and sliding across the pavement as it struggled to keep traction on the slick road. We manage to make the turn but immediately came into even heavier traffic.

  “Fuck,” I heard Saint shout from the front.

  I thought he was just frustrated about the traffic until I looked over his shoulder to see what was going on. Two more black vans sat in front of us, coming to a stop quickly to block our way. We were being closed in, and there was no obvious escape.

  “Run!” Saint shouted, grabbing my arm from his waist and yanking me off the motorcycle.

  The machine titled and splashed into the asphalt as we ran across the road, avoiding the vans that had closed us in. I looked back and saw men piling out of the vans to come after us on foot.

  I tore off the bulky helmet that was clouding my few. The cool rain felt good against my sweaty hair but quickly became a nuisance as it dripped into my eyes from my lashes while I ran. Saint still had a grip on my arm, helping me run faster than I would have been able to on my own.

  My feet went from tar to sidewalk to squishy wet grass as I followed close to Saint. I didn’t know where he was going, but I trusted him more than I did myself with being able to evade the Syndicate. He knew them much better than I did.

  The water in the grass soaked into my shoes, causing my heels to slip and rub against the backs of my shoes. A few more steps and blisters were already forming on my feet. It became painful, but my sense of self-preservation was more powerful than temporary pain. I could handle much worse.

  It was hard to breathe against the torrential downpour. Every time I took a breath in, it was like trying to inhale water in the shower as I stood directly under the showerhead. There was too much water in the air to be panting the way that I was. I was choking on the droplets as I ran.

  “Inside,” Saint said as we came up to a tall building.

  Even in the rain, I could see the glowing yellow letters outside the glass doors telling me that we were at an expensive hotel. I had stayed here once when I was younger, but I could never afford a place this nice on my own.

  We had to pause at the sliding glass doors while they opened, giving the Syndicate gangsters a chance to catch up to us. As Saint pulled me in toward the elevator, I could hear the gangsters enter into the hotel lobby with us.

  “Duck!” Saint shouted, pulling a gun from his pants and pointing it over my shoulder.

  I bent down as he fired a shot toward the entrance. I heard a shriek from the check-in desk as he fired another shot. Ther
e were none returned to him, probably because the Southside Syndicate wanted me alive.

  My ears were ringing when Saint pulled me into an elevator. He pressed the button for the top floor and fired one more shot out of the doorway to keep our pursuers at bay. I covered my ears, unable to stand the sound of gunfire any longer. I was certain I would go deaf if I had to endure much more of it.

  “Are you okay?” Saint asked, holding me by the shoulders and looking me up and down.

  I could see the worry in his green eyes. It was moments like this that told me that he truly cared about me. This wasn’t just about the court case. There was something else going on between us.

  “I’m fine. My ears hurt,” I said, shaking my head.

  Saint nodded. “Guns are loud. You’ll regain your hearing soon.”

  That was comforting to hear. I felt like I had been standing beside a speaker at a metal concert for the full set, blasting my eardrums with the screeching sound of distorted guitar solos. If Saint hadn’t assured me that I would be fine, I would have worried that I might lose my hearing altogether from the sound of his gun.

  Saint waved the gun around in front of him. “We’re going to have to shoot our way out. They’ve probably already called the police, so we need to get out of here quickly.”

  “Give me that,” I said, grabbing at his gun. “Let me shoot the bastards.”

  Saint jerked his hand away from me, not allowing me to get a grip on his weapon. “I can handle this. Just stay close to me.”

  “You don’t give me much of a choice,” I grumbled, crossing my arms.

  “Don’t give me attitude, Ruth. I’m trying to keep us alive.”

  “I’m not afraid of the police. I could hide out here if I wanted to, but you’re the one who wants to put me in danger,” I snapped.

  Saint glared at me, lowering his head and looking at me with a furrowed brow. “You’re coming with me whether you like it or not,” he growled.