by Bella King
His words never failed to turn me on. This wasn’t the time or the place to get horny, but my pussy got wet on those words alone. It was the tone and seriousness of his voice that did it for me. I couldn’t help myself.
Saint gave me a funny look, as though he could tell by my posture and facial expression that he had turned me on. “Just stay close. We’re going to head down the back of the building. There should be a fire escape, but I suspect the Syndicate will beat us to it.”
“So, we can’t go down that way. We’ll be sitting ducks going down twenty stories on the fire escape.
Saint paused, biting his lip. “Okay, we can go down first and try to get out from the back door, but we’ll have to take another elevator. They can’t guard all of them. The police will be here to scare them off soon anyway.”
“See, I’m more help than you think I am,” I said.
“Sure,” he replied dismissively.
I didn’t have a chance to retort before the elevator doors slid open at the top floor. Saint pulled me out into the hallway, looking left and right frantically as though someone might be there to catch us, but we were obviously the first ones up.
“Should we split up?” I asked.
“I’m not letting you out of my sight,” Saint replied, grabbing my arm again to pull me along with him down the hallway.
I knew he wasn’t going to let me go, but I had wanted to test it one more time before I gave in. I could have made a run for it, found the police, and eventually escaped the nightmare that I had been sucked into, but I wanted to trust Saint. There was something inside of me urging me to continue going along with this crazy adventure, as though there was something to be gained from it.
Was it the physical pleasure, or was there something more between Saint and me that drove me to follow his command? There was honesty behind those wicked eyes, but there was also so much that I didn’t know. There was so much that Saint refused to tell me.
I ran down the hallway toward the elevator on the other side of the building, hoping that all this trauma was worth something in the end. My shoes left soggy footprints in the red carpet as we took turn after turn down thin hallways until we finally arrived at a small elevator in the back of the building.
“This looks good,” Saint said, mashing the elevator button until the doors opened.
I shrugged. “Just don’t get us killed, alright?”
He flashed me a winning grin. “I have too many plans for you to let that happen.”
I looked into his eyes as the elevator doors rolled open, searching for the confidence I needed to go through with this. I found it. There, sitting in his jewel eyes, was a certainty that couldn’t be faked. He knew what he was doing, and he wouldn’t let us die.
“Come,” Saint said, pulling me into the elevator the moment the doors opened. He pressed a button to bring us down to the bottom floor, but we had a stop on the twelfth.
“Looks like we have company,” I said, pointing to the glowing button with an elegant 12 etched into it.
“Fuck,” Saint said, shaking his head. “I hate to traumatize innocent people.”
“What are you going to do?” I asked, a bit worried that he might shoot whoever was standing behind the doors when they opened.
“Blast them,” Saint said, waving his gun toward the doors.
My stomach dropped. “What?!”
“Jesus, Ruth. Do you think I’d actually kill innocent people? I only kill people who deserve it,” Saint replied, shaking his head at me. “It was a joke.”
“Not funny,” I said, crossing my arms.
“I am going to have to scare them away, though,” he said, giving me a guilty look before the doors rolled open.
The doors opened on a young couple waiting to get in the elevator with us. Unfortunately for them, this ride was only for Saint and me.
Saint waved his gun in the air. “It’s taken,” he said casually, pushing the button to close the doors and continue on our way.
The couple’s eye bugged out, and they froze as the doors closed, leaving them shocked and confused. It would have been funny, but considering our dire circumstances, I wasn’t laughing.
Saint, on the other hand, had a chuckle at their expense. “Did you see their faces?”
I shook my head, but I couldn’t hide a smile. “Let’s just get out of here.”
“I’m working on it,” Saint said, watching the numbers slowly count down on the display above the doors.
“How many bullets do you have left in that thing?” I asked, pointing a finger at his gun.
“Ten,” he answered without hesitation. “It holds thirteen.”
“I thought guns only held six shots,” I said.
“This is the twenty-first century, Ruth,” Saint replied.
“Well, excuse me,” I said, irritated. “I’m not a criminal like you are.”
Saint chuckled, then grew serious. “Focus, and get ready to run.”
I suddenly had the impulse to kiss him. Yes, he had already made me orgasm, but a kiss was far more intimate than sexual pleasure. Anyone who has ever been in love knows that. The kiss speaks volumes where simple actions just can’t.
Saint wasn’t expecting it. How could he be when I didn’t even expect it myself? I sprung up to my toes and planted a kiss firmly on his lips, taking in his essence in case this was the last time I saw him alive. We didn’t know what was waiting for us beyond those golden elevator doors.
The bell chimed, and the doors rolled open on the bottom floor. We were met with blue flashing lights. It seemed that the cops had arrived before the Southside Syndicate had.
Chapter Sixteen
“You owe me an explanation,” I said, sitting cross-legged on the couch with Mrs. May in my lap. I was working on finishing the embroidery of Saint that I had started before I got mixed up in this disaster of a kidnapping.
Saint came in from the kitchen, a hot cup of tea in his hands. He handed it to me and sat down next to me. “I already sent the pictures to your mother. It’s too late to get out of this, even if I did explain to you what’s going on.”
“So, what’s stopping you from telling me?” I asked, cocking my head to the side and pursing my lips together.
Saint sighed. “You really want to know?”
I nodded, putting the final stitch through the embroidery of Saint’s face. It looked just like him, but it was hard to capture the spark in his eyes. It was what made him who he was. It was also what made me so damned attracted to him, even after all that he had put me through.
Speaking of which, the way back to Saint’s luxury apartment hadn’t been easy. The police had surrounded the building, but they didn’t really know what was going on, and Saint and I managed to slide out, pretending to be frightened guests.
The police had been looking for men in red – the foot soldiers that the Southside Syndicate used to do their dirty work. Since neither Saint or I looked like a Syndicate gangster, we were overlooked as we left the building. They would find the security tapes and realize their mistake later, but that by then, we were already cozied back up in the apartment.
Saint figured that the Syndicate had tracked the van that he had stolen from their hideout, which was how they had found us in the first place. That meant that we would have to leave the apartment as well since the van had been parked here earlier. For now, we were safe, but that wouldn’t last long.
While Saint packed up for the trip ahead of us and arranged for a rental car to be delivered to the garage downstairs, I sat on the couch, finishing my embroidery of him. Before we left, I wanted to know what the hell was really going on. I didn’t want to put my life at risk for nothing.
Saint took a deep breath before beginning his story. I could see that he was reluctant to spill the details, but I had been more than fair with him in the past, and he owed me this much.
I adjusted my posture on the couch, running my hand through Mrs. May’s thick black fur as he began his story.
; “I didn’t always hate the Southside Syndicate. Yeah, they tried to steal my turf, but they were organized. They knew what they were doing, and I had to admire that. You see, this mafia crime lord nonsense, it’s all just business. We’re all just businessmen.”
Saint ran his fingers through his hair and glanced up at me. “When my foster house burned down, I wasn’t the only one who escaped. My little brother did too. We were a team, him and I. We ran these fucking streets.”
“Where is he?” I asked, afraid of the answer.
“He joined the Syndicate. He said they were too good, and he couldn’t turn them down. I told him he shouldn’t get involved with the fuckers. They were powerful, but they had a habit of screwing over smalltime criminals. Believe it or not, my wealth is considered minor compared to the Syndicate.
“Well, he joined anyway, and that was the beginning of the end. At first, he was pulling in a lot of money, and doing some crazy shit. He was living the dream. He used to take me out to the clubs and get wasted off fine alcohol, bitches, and the purest drugs you could imagine.”
Saint laughed. “But that shit gets old, so I stopped going out with him as much. We kind of went our own ways for a while, which was fine. He did his stuff, and I did mine.”
“Then,” Saint said, lowering his head, “It happened. There was a huge bust on one of the Syndicate’s headquarters. They have a few across Florida, and the one they busted happened to have my brother in it. He got arrested, along with seven other prominent figures in the gang.”
I frowned. “So, he’s on the trial?”
“Yes,” Saint answered, nodding his head solemnly. “And the Syndicate wants to use him as a scapegoat, but I’m not going to allow that.”
“They’re trying to blackmail my mother into shifting blame to him?”
“Right again. They want to clear their leaders’ names and throw my bother behind bars for everything.”
I was a bit cynical. “But isn’t your brother a criminal?”
Saint squinted at me. “So am I, but that’s beside the point. He’ll get a life sentence if they can give him one, and I honestly don’t care what he’s done. Nobody wants to see their brother locked away to die, looking at concrete walls just because the system made him turn rouge. It’s them or him, and I know who is most guilty.”
“The Southside Syndicate,” I said slowly.
“Right,” Saint said with a curt nod, “And you’re the key to my brother’s freedom.”
I knew that Saint’s brother was a better person compared to who he was on trial with, but I wasn’t sure that I approved of Saint’s sense of justice. I wouldn’t have agreed to do something like this without being kept as a captive, but Saint knew that. It was why I was locked up in his apartment instead of turned over to the police when he rescued me from the clutches of the Southside Syndicate.
I was conflicted about how involved I was in a trial that was ultimately none of my business, but I did want to help Saint. He was only trying to help his brother, which I could sympathize with, even if he wasn’t a law-abiding citizen. I wondered if he would want to turn a new page after all this was over.
Saint’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and he withdrew it, checking a message quickly before returning it to his pocket and standing up. “Our car is here. We’re going to head to a hotel for the night, but I would like to move you out of Florida for the time being.”
“You’re taking me away?” I asked, surprised that he wanted to do that.
“It’s too dangerous in this state. I have another place to stay in Virginia. They won’t be looking for us there,” Saint replied.
“What if I don’t want to leave?” I asked.
Saint gave me a look, but he didn’t bother replying. We both knew what his answer would be.
I stood up, scooping Mrs. May into my arms. “Do you have a cat carrier?”
Saint chuckled. “I used the one you had in your apartment to get her here, actually. It’s in the bedroom closet.”
“Thanks,” I called over my shoulder, carrying Mrs. May to the bedroom to prepare her for the journey.
I was a bit irritated with Saint. Even though he had saved me from the Syndicate again, the story about his brother seemed like a poor excuse to drag someone into danger. When we had first met during the fateful night where I was run down by members of the Syndicate after my audition, him meeting me seemed like more of a chance occurrence than anything.
Now, I was starting to suspect that he had been after me all along. I didn’t think using me as a pawn was a passing notion that he only came up with after he ran into me on the street. He may have been tracking me down that night, not the Syndicate like he had originally told me. He may have taken care of me, but part of me sensed that he still wasn’t being completely honest with me.
I wouldn’t press him on it anymore, though, because it seemed like he was done talking. We had to get out of here and make our way out of the state so that the Syndicate wouldn’t catch us, so I wouldn’t stall either.
I retrieved Mrs. May’s carrier from the closet in the bedroom and, after some squirming, managed to get her into it. “You’ll be fine, baby. We’re both going to be fine,” I told her, wiggling a finger through the holes in the front as I carried it back out into the living room.
“Ready?” Saint asked, throwing a bag over his shoulder.
I nodded. “I don’t have much stuff.”
“We’ll get you some things once we get to my other place. If you’re going to be with me for a while, then you might as well be comfortable.”
“I appreciate that,” I said, thinking back to my initial situation in the hospital headquarters.
“Are you getting hungry?” Saint asked as he rolled a suitcase to the door.
I shrugged. “I guess so.” My stomach growled.
He looked down at my stomach and smiled. “We’ll grab some food before we get to the hotel.”
“I want a hamburger and ice cream,” I blurted, taking advantage of Saint’s wallet. I barely ever ate junk food because it was too expensive. I stuck to rice and beans when I was living by myself. Mrs. May probably got better food than I did.
Saint laughed. “I could use a hamburger myself.”
“You ate that huge sandwich earlier,” I reminded him.
“All this action makes me hungry,” he replied with a shrug. “Come, let’s go pick up the car and get out of here.”
I followed Saint as he opened the door. He cautiously peeked out, looking both ways to make sure there was nobody waiting to spring out and capture me as we left. The Syndicate hadn’t managed to catch up with us yet.
Chapter Seventeen
Saint and I didn’t have an issue getting into the garage and retrieving the rental car that had been delivered. It was a blue Mercedes, which would stick out in traffic. I wondered why Saint didn’t go for something more generic.
“Isn’t this a little too conspicuous?” I asked as I climbed into the passenger’s seat. I didn’t have a handcuff on me this time. I guess Saint was hoping I wouldn’t do anything crazy while we were on the run.
“Perhaps,” Saint replied, pushing a button to start the car. “But I like to ride in style. It’s a guilty pleasure.”
I shook my head and smiled at him. “Through all of this, and you still insist on being ridiculous.”
“For sure,” he said, bringing the car to the garage exit. “If I’m going to kidnap the daughter of the biggest judge in the state of Florida, then I’m going to go all out.”
“Good point,” I said. It was hard to argue with that logic. Plus, I liked his style. It wasn’t every day that I ran into a man who knew how to have a good time even when things were tough. I had more fun these past few days than I had in my entire life, even if I did almost die once or twice.
Saint peeled out of the parking garage, leaving rubber marks on the smooth ground as he jumped into traffic. There weren’t very many people on the road due to the downpour of rain, but it wasn’t as
bad as it was earlier. Most of the storm had passed.
The steady beat of the windshield wipers made me feel relaxed, as did the sound of the rain. In Florida, you tend to get used to the rain, but I never let it get pushed all the way to the background. For me, the rain was a symbol of life, and it gave me hope for the next day. It washed away the old and left a new world behind.
“Do you like the rain?” I asked Saint as he drove down the highway at a slow pace.
“I like it more than I used to. Back when I was on the street corners trying to sell drugs, the rain was my worst enemy. Sometimes it was even worse than the cops because you can’t run from it,” he reminisced.
“I never thought about that,” I said. I had always had the privilege of working indoors.
“Well, now it’s better. I don’t hang out on the streets that much.”
“You did when you saved me that first time,” I said, looking to his handsome face for a reaction.
“Yeah, that was a special occasion,” Saint replied.
“What were you doing, exactly?” I asked, figuring now might be a good time to dig in for more details.
“I was looking for revenge, honestly, but when I found you, I realized I had struck gold.”
“So, you weren’t planning on kidnapping me the whole time?” I asked.
“No,” Saint said, shaking his head. “I was trying to kill Juan.”
“Who is Juan?” I asked. I had never heard him mention the name before.
“Juan, the one who recruited my brother in the first place. I’m sure you met him. He wears a white mask.”
“And his has blue eyes,” I said, realizing that I had met him at the hospital.
“That’s right,” Saint said, a smug look coming across his face.
I knew there was something behind that look. Saint didn’t make that face often. “I met him in the Syndicate headquarters when I woke up. They injected me with some weird stuff and brought me there.”
“I know. I was already following you at that point already. I kept a very close eye on you after you fled from me that night,” Saint explained.
