Breaking the Rules (A Sinner and Saint Novel Book 2)

by Lucy Score

  He shoved her hand away and worked his fly open. He freed his cock and fisted the engorged length in his hand. “Is this what you want, Angel? Is this what you’re begging for?”

  “Yes,” she nodded, squeezing her eyes closed so she wouldn’t have to see him withholding himself. “What do you want?” She’d give it to him. She knew she would if he pushed her.

  He slowly, carefully, nudged the blunt head through her folds stopping between the begging bundle of nerves and her empty entrance.

  When she tried to buck against him, he held her hips in a vice-like grip. “Not until you tell me what I need to know,” he growled.

  She gritted her teeth.

  “Do you want me inside you? Do you want me to push into you and fill you?”

  “God, yes!”

  He did on one violent thrust. Pushing off of the arm of the sofa with his foot, Xavier powered into her.

  She screamed out his name. She hadn’t been prepared. He hadn’t worked to soften her up to accept him, but it didn’t matter because they were finally one.

  “I’m inside you Waverly, and I won’t tolerate you lying to me.” He didn’t pull out, just stayed sheathed to the hilt inside her taut channel. She flexed her hips, trying to find a millimeter of space inside. But he’d claimed it all, and he wasn’t moving.

  “It’s not my secret to tell,” she gasped.

  They were both sweating, him with the effort to hold back and Waverly with the fight to chase down her release.

  “Look at me,” he ordered her on a ragged breath. She opened her eyes and took him in. He was struggling, fighting the primitive urge to mate. But behind that was hurt, and she couldn’t stand to see that. The man who made it his life’s work to protect those he loved couldn’t understand when the women in his life turned their back on that protection. She brought a hand to his face.

  “Tell me my sister isn’t a hacker, and you didn’t willingly drag her into this clusterfuck,” Xavier gritted out.

  “I’m sorry, X. I’m sorry,” Waverly panted. “She didn’t want you to worry.”

  He swore ripely, but her confession was enough to have him giving in.

  “Hang on to me, and don’t let go.” The words snapped out in a command.

  The second her hands gripped his shoulders, he let his control snap. He pulled out of her and slammed back in, riding her hard and without finesse. It didn’t matter. Waverly was already coming. It was a fast, brutal orgasm that slammed into her and detonated throughout her entire body. He groaned as she came, clutching and bucking against him. She sobbed as he finally gave her what she needed.

  Xavier’s shout of triumph echoed in her ear as he poured himself into her. His thrusts continued wildly until he was empty, and she was full with everything he had to give.

  They lay there, joined, crushed, decimated for long minutes. Heartbeat to heartbeat.

  “What was that?” Waverly asked, her voice muffled against Xavier’s shoulder.

  “Angry sex,” he said, lips moving against her tangle of hair.

  “Think we’ll ever get to make-up sex?” she wondered.

  “Maybe in a couple of years.”

  --------

  As she washed out her teacup, Waverly could hear him on the phone and took his low voice as a good sign. The shouting had only taken a few minutes, and knowing Chelsea, she’d given as good as she’d gotten.

  They’d showered after he’d tortured her with his body into confessing. And then he’d excused himself to her study to call his sister. Waverly was relieved the secret was out and had confidence that Chelsea would talk him down. But Xavier was still hurt, and that hurt her.

  Calla’s words from that afternoon echoed in her head.

  Xavier showed his love by protecting, defending, and when that was rejected, he felt like it was his love that was being spurned. Waverly felt guilty. It’s what she’d been doing since the beginning of their relationship.

  As angry as she had been with Xavier, she didn’t mean to hurt him like that. He had to have felt rattled, first learning her news last night and then discovering his sister’s secret today. There was only so much a man could take before he broke.

  Maybe she could at least help ease his stress. After all, she was the cause of most of it.

  She poked through the fridge and pantry and fired off a quick text to Marisol and Louie thanking them for taking charge of restocking everything. There was no time to whip up Xavier’s favorite pot roast, but a nice pasta dish with fresh garlic bread? That she could handle.

  She started the creamy sauce and set the water to boil. With the French bread buttered and dotted with garlic and a light layer of mozzarella, she slid it into the oven.

  They’d forgo the dining table and instead keep it cozy and relaxed in front of the fireplace, Waverly decided.

  She added a handful of spinach to the sauce for the illusion of health and sliced a dozen cherry tomatoes in half and froze. Was this how she showed her love? By caretaking? By anticipating needs? Had she and Xavier been showing how much they loved each other the entire time?

  By the time Xavier wandered out of her office and into the great room, she was plating up pasta and bread into shallow bowls. She pointed at the beer she’d opened for him on the island.

  Marisol certainly had faith in Xavier’s ability to get into my bed, Waverly thought when she’d spotted the six-pack in the fridge.

  After their shower, he’d changed into jeans and a worn t-shirt. His feet were bare, and his hair had dried with a little curl to it. He looked gorgeous and a little sad.

  Waverly went to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. He hesitated for just a moment, and it told her he was still at least a little mad.

  “Chelsea’s flying in in the morning,” he told her.

  Waverly pulled back and looked up at him. “Is everything okay with you two?”

  “No,” he sighed. “But it will be.”

  Waverly handed him his plate and his beer and led the way to the couch by the fireplace.

  “What’s this?” he asked.

  “Thought you could use some dinner,” she told him. They settled against the overstuffed cushions and ate in silence for a few minutes.

  “What is it with the women I love being hell bent on seeking out danger?” he asked finally.

  “Maybe it’s because we know you’ll always have our backs,” Waverly said, twirling her fork into the pasta.

  She felt the weight of his gaze on her but focused on her plate. He said nothing, but he did run his hand down from her neck to her back in a light stroke. She could feel it in the air—a shift between them—and wondered if he felt it, too.

  That night, long after the dinner dishes were cleared and lights turned off, Waverly showed Xavier what it was like to have someone look out for him for a change. When she knelt between his legs on the wide expanse of her bed, when his hands fisted in the sheets, when he bowed up from the mattress, abs rippling, her name a shout from his throat, only then did he lose the hurt.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Waverly tagged along with Xavier to meet Chelsea’s flight to keep the family bloodshed to a minimum. Xavier had sent the jet for her, and given the sensitive nature of her visit, they were picking her up at Van Nuys Airport, a small airport half an hour northeast of Waverly’s Calabasas home.

  Burke drove a sleek, new Cadillac Escalade that Waverly assumed had replaced the totaled Tahoe. She sat next to Xavier in the backseat, his arm anchoring her to his side, and she didn’t even pretend to fight it. They’d made love again before dawn broke in the hours before they would be consumed with what lay ahead.

  And for a time, their world was just the two of them. Waverly found herself reluctant to give that up, yet. They rode in silence, his hand stroking her arm. And when she rested her palm on his thigh, he leaned in to nuzzle her face.

  “You might want to be careful,” he warned her with a whisper of lips against her
ear.

  She looked down at his lap at the growing evidence of his interest.

  “You’re insatiable,” she whispered back.

  He pulled her hand off his leg and cupped it to his erection. “As if you’re not soaking wet right now, Angel.”

  Her fingers tightened around his shaft through his navy trousers, and he gave a soft grunt of approval. He let her play for a moment before pulling away. When she pouted, he flicked her lower lip.

  “We’ll be there in a minute. I can’t meet my sister with a raging hard-on, now can I?”

  “Let’s find out,” Waverly suggested.

  He playfully pushed her across the leather to the far side of the bench seat. “Stay,” he ordered.

  Minutes later, Burke brought the Escalade to a stop on the tarmac near a sleek private jet. Chelsea Saint emerged from the plane onto the stairs, her thick dark hair blowing in the breeze. Xavier pushed the SUV’s rear door open and beckoned for her.

  Paparazzi were less aggressive at Van Nuys, but there were still a few photographers hanging around the fence hoping for a glimpse of fame.

  Burke loaded her bags in the back while Chelsea propelled herself into the backseat wrapping Xavier and Waverly in a double hug.

  She gave Xavier a smacking kiss on the cheek, “I hope you’re not super mad at me because I’m so excited that I can show off my mad skills for you now.”

  Before he could respond, she was giving Waverly a loud kiss. “And I am so glad we get to hang out even though it’s work-related.”

  Waverly and Chelsea chatted the whole way home while Xavier watched them in that brooding way of his.

  “What’s the matter, Zave?” Chelsea asked.

  “Just realizing what a long week this is going to be,” he commented dryly. They both smacked him.

  --------

  They were going to have to take Petra early. Waverly couldn’t see a way around it.

  They’d gathered in one of Invictus’ conference rooms in the back away from the bustle of the office. The privacy glass was frosted to keep any unwanted eyes from prying. She looked around the table. Xavier, impeccable and urbane in a navy suit with subtle pinstripes, sat on her left at the head of the table. They talked business, but every once in a while, his gleaming oxford nudged her calf. Micah, in shirt sleeves and a frown, sat opposite him.

  Kate sat next to Waverly in yoga pants and a Zoolander sweatshirt. Across from them was Chelsea in full-on work mode with her hair pinned up and wearing sexy, nerdy glasses.

  As Xavier walked those gathered through what his team had discovered so far, Waverly realized this went a lot deeper than just Petra and Dante. Three of her last four assignments appeared to have no legitimate government oversight. Which meant that Brad had gone fishing in the private sector. Xavier’s research team had been able to pull enough intel together to speculate that the CEO’s phone she’d cloned in Miami had given a brokerage firm in D.C. a head’s up on a top secret merger. The early stock acquisition had earned the firm—and Brad—a huge profit.

  Then there was the twenty-year-old playboy that Waverly had teased on the dance floor of a club in L.A. His whispered brags about his congressman father’s ties to the New York mafia had corresponded to the congressman suddenly announcing he wouldn’t seek re-election for a fifth time and was throwing his support behind a young and hungry female candidate. A very generous deposit had been made into Brad’s Luxembourg account from said hungry female candidate.

  Chelsea—in sterling trousers, a white ruffled blouse, and red Jimmy Choos—walked them through the finer details of the money trail.

  “This is just what I’ve been able to glean from the Luxembourg account,” she concluded. “There will be more, most likely in other tax havens. But I think there’s more than enough here to turn this over to the authorities and have them start to comb through this mess.”

  Xavier and Micah shared a glance. Micah cleared his throat before responding. “And therein lies the problem. We’re considering the possibility that Tomasso has someone or multiple someones inside the government clearing the way for him to pick up odd jobs.”

  Waverly frowned at Kate. This was news to both of them.

  Xavier’s foot touched her again under the table. “Our research team occasionally gets sucked down the rabbit hole of information,” he began. “Cayman uncovered a connection between Tomasso and a member of the Special Collection Service.”

  “Quick question,” Kate said, raising her pen like a reporter at a press conference. “What the hell’s the Special Collection Service?”

  Xavier winked at her. “The SCS is a joint program between the CIA and the NSA. Their job is to eavesdrop in places that are complicated to eavesdrop in.”

  Micah took a spin at the wheel. “It turns out that our pal Brad went to college with one of the suits at the SCS. On a basic review of Tomasso’s social media accounts, Research turned up several photos of the two of them but nothing recent. We haven’t connected the financial dots, but it’s an area of concern.”

  “So what you’re saying is, we can’t dump this information on just anyone because we don’t know who else is in bed with him,” Waverly filled in.

  “Yep.” Micah looked even unhappier than he had when she’d told him she was kidnapping Petra.

  “What leads you to believe that someone else is involved?” Kate piped up again.

  “After every deposit into his Luxembourg account, he transfers thirty percent of that fee out of the account,” Chelsea answered. “I haven’t been able to track where that percentage is going. Yet.”

  Waverly took a peek at Xavier to see how he was handling his sister in full-on hacker mode. His face was impassive, but she caught a glimmer in his eye. Familial pride. She knew he was still hurt that Chelsea hadn’t trusted him with her secret, but they would get past it. And judging by how intently he was listening, he’d poach her for Invictus within the year. Waverly rubbed her toes up his shin, and those brown eyes warmed when his gaze moved to her face.

  Crap. She was sunk. She was staring at the man who was putting every resource he had at her disposal to get her out of a disaster. A man who loved her enough that he was trying to track down the man he thought was her boyfriend. A man who, hurt by his sister’s deception, was still big enough that he could be proud of her skill.

  She loved him. She’d never stopped loving him. And wasn’t that hard to swallow? She’d deal with it later, she decided. Just because she loved him didn’t mean she could trust him. He’d run before. He’d stuck through the hard times and then walked out of her life, leaving her to pick up the pieces of her shattered heart and hopes. And it could happen again.

  “So this buddy who’s collecting on these jobs could be Frat Boy, or it could be someone else,” Kate clarified. Her comment brought Waverly back to the present and the problem at hand.

  “Exactly,” Micah nodded. “And if we take this information to the wrong person at the wrong organization, we could be looking at a lot of trouble.”

  “There’s one more problem to consider,” Waverly spoke up. All eyes turned to her. “I’m supposed to take Petra on Saturday. Brad said most of the staff have the day off, and she’s planning to be home until going to a restaurant opening that night. Which means he’s got someone on the inside feeding him information.”

  She saw Xavier’s wheels turning.

  “So we’ve got a source on the inside to worry about, and I think the deadline is important.”

  Micah blew out a breath and eyed Xavier.

  “Either they’re planning on taking her from you as soon as you get her out, or we’re walking into a trap,” Xavier said.

  “I’m the squeaky wheel at Target right now. They need me to get Petra, but once I’m no longer useful, they’re going to want to shut me up and sooner rather than later. We need to take her early.”

  --------

  “Don’t look at it as kidnapping,” Xavier advised Mica
h. “Look at it as us illegally saving someone’s life.” The girls had cleared out of the conference room to begin reviewing security footage from the Stepanov estate, leaving Xavier the unenviable job of convincing Micah that this was the only play that would work.

  “We don’t know that she’s in danger!” Micah’s voice was on the low side of yelling. He paced in pissed off laps around the oval conference table, pausing every once in a while to kick one of the wheeled chairs out of his way.

  “Someone wants her kidnapped—that’s textbook danger. She’s a client. We owe it to her to—”

  “To what? Be the ones to kidnap her? Saint, this isn’t what we do. And if we break this rule now, what’s to stop us from doing it again?”

  “I understand where you’re coming from, Micah, but I don’t see a choice. Either we do it this way, or you’re sending Waverly and me in there without support. Those guards aren’t just hired muscle, and they don’t trust Waverly. They’re not going to detain her if they see her jumping a wall. They’re going to shoot first and ask questions later.”

  “Listen, Saint, next time I bust on you about settling down and starting a family, make sure you do it with some PTA-attending cookie baker who has a regular job.”

  “So noted.”

  “I wouldn’t put this company on the line for anyone else but you,” Micah sighed, sinking down onto one of the leather seats.”

  “I appreciate that, and if this goes south, I’ll take full responsibility for it. I’ll sign everything over to you and walk away with the heat.”

  “Let’s make fucking sure it doesn’t come to that,” Micah said, swiping a hand over his forehead.

  If it meant that Waverly would be safe, he’d walk away from everything he’d spent the last seven years building. And he wouldn’t regret a damn thing.

  Xavier picked up the pen Waverly had left behind and tapped it on the table. He’d won the battle, but there was a war to fight yet.

  --------

  While Xavier worked on convincing Micah that snagging Petra was the best course of action, Waverly commandeered Xavier’s office. She focused on reviewing the security footage Micah had pulled from previous Thursdays. Kate poked her head out to talk to Xavier’s scary efficient assistant, Roz, about what to order for lunch. Chelsea worked furiously on her laptop doing God knows what.