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

by Lucy Score

And with that warning all savoring, all gentleness was gone. Xavier withdrew and sank back into her with a primal groan. Waverly stifled the desperate noises clawing their way out of her throat by pressing her face into his chest. She felt so raw, being completely naked while Xavier was still fully clothed.

  He was driving into her now, pushing them both toward the top.

  “I’m going to make you come,” he told her in a voice strained with effort. “And everyone out there is going to hear you. They’re going to know that you belong to me.”

  Waverly felt herself flutter around his shaft at his words. A movement on her periphery caught her eye. She turned her head and watched their reflection in the mirror in wanton fascination. Xavier, so strong and virile, powering himself into her. She saw herself, flushed and heavy lidded. Her lips full and swollen, her breasts swaying with every plunge into her body. The ring glittered on her finger.

  Ever attentive, Xavier followed her gaze. He growled low, a rumble in his chest. “I feel you working my cock, Angel. When you go off, you’re going to set me off, too. Tell me what you need.”

  Waverly was lost to the building sensation, that tightening, that pull inward. “More,” she whispered to Xavier. She wanted more of everything he had to offer.

  His jaw was clenched tight and sweat dotted his forehead. The thrust of his hips increased in both power and speed. Every stroke carried her forward to the edge.

  “Xavier!” His name was a gasp.

  “I’m with you, Angel.”

  And then the light inside her exploded, blinding her behind closed lids, and he was pumping his seed into her in hot jets. She closed around him in tremulous, delirious waves that wracked her entire body.

  “I love you,” he groaned, his forehead resting on hers while they came together.

  “I love you, X.”

  --------

  They snuck upstairs using the front staircase to avoid a walk of shame through the kitchen where surely everyone heard their wanton display.

  Xavier dressed quickly in his standard black suit and white button down before leaving her in their room to dress with a stern warning that they were rolling out in an hour. She looked at her outfit and decided it might take her that long to dress. Going into an operation was never as simple as pulling on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. Everything had a purpose and in this case, everything had a dual purpose.

  She finished dressing and then stretched and flexed in the mirror, making sure nothing bulged visibly under her long sleeve button down, and then double-checked that her lucky coin was snug between her breasts.

  Satisfied, a ghost of a smile danced over her lips, and she dug through her go bag until her fingers brushed the object she sought. The anklet was another sentimental charm from Xavier. The tiny diamond heart cleverly hid a GPS tracker. Xavier had it designed for her when he began guarding her years ago. That little heart had saved her life when Ganim abducted her. Xavier had been able to track her location and get to her just in time. She’d never worn it since but always carried it with her like a talisman warding off evil.

  It seemed fitting that she wear it today. Waverly fastened it to her ankle and gave her reflection another check. Everything was where it should be, she decided. Now it was time for Hollywood armor.

  She hurried into the bathroom and assembled her makeup supplies, pausing often to admire the sparkle on her left hand. It was a breathtaking ring, a breathtaking promise that they’d made to each other. Yet she didn’t feel fear about their decision. It felt… right. There was no one else in this world she would ever feel this for. Love didn’t even seem like a strong enough descriptor for the all-consuming fire he sparked in her. It was so much deeper than anything she’d ever hoped for.

  Her parents were going to be thrilled, Waverly thought with a smile. She’d tell them tonight, after everything with Tomasso was settled.

  She reached for her lipstick, the ringing of her phone caught her attention.

  Brad Tomasso. Waverly’s adrenaline spiked instantly.

  “Brad.”

  “I decided I didn’t like your terms. So I’m changing them,” Brad announced without preamble. “You’re going to drag that little Russian bitch to me, or you’re going to pay a price.”

  “You’re the one paying a price, Brad.” She kept her tone mild, but tuned into the gut feeling that she was walking into trouble.

  “I’ve got something you’re going to want even more than the money.”

  “What could I possibly want more than money?”

  He ignored her question with a humorless laugh. “The exchange was getting a little too crowded for me. So we’re going to do a little business just the two of us.”

  “I like the deal we have on the table,” she insisted.

  “Let me tell you what you’re going to do today, Waverly. You’re going to bring Petra to the exchange, and then you’re going to wait until you hear from me with the new plan. You’re going to follow my instructions to the letter, and you’re not going to tell a soul. Especially not your friend Saint.”

  “Oh, really?” she forced a laugh of her own. “And why am I going to do all that?”

  “Check your texts,” he said cryptically and disconnected the call.

  She had a bad feeling, one that settled like ice in her belly. Brad was too cocky not to have an ace in the hole. And when she opened the text from him, she saw exactly what that ace was.

  Sylvia Sinner, sat unconscious bound to a chair. Her blonde curls fell over her forehead, her neck lolling to the side. A broad swatch of tape covered her mouth.

  I invited your mother to breakfast. She must have had too much to drink.

  She couldn’t tell if her mother was injured or drugged or where the photo was taken. The background was dark as if her mother sat alone in a spotlight. There were no hints, no way to circumvent Brad to get to her mother.

  How had she not seen this move coming? Waverly cursed herself.

  She felt herself shift into autopilot, the shock crowding everything else out of her mind. Brad had taken her mother as an insurance policy. And he wouldn’t hesitate to kill her if Waverly disobeyed him. Her mother’s life depended on her following Brad’s instructions to the letter.

  “Fuck,” she muttered to herself.

  The diamond glinted on her finger, a flash of the promises of future and of trust, of a partnership that could last. Could Xavier ever forgive her for turning her back?

  --------

  Five minutes later, a shaky but dressed Waverly made her way downstairs praying that she wasn’t making a huge mistake. She was terrified that Xavier was going to take one look at her and know. So it was an odd mix of relief and annoyance that Waverly felt when Petra nervously beckoned her into the library.

  The girl had Pixie cuddled to her chest.

  “I wish I was brave like you,” Petra announced, leaning against the massive walnut table and rubbing her cheek against Pixie’s tiny head.

  “Petra, you’re very brave,” Waverly said, dropping into a leather chair under a window. “First, for falling in love with Dante, and second, for trusting Xavier and me when we essentially broke into your house.”

  Petra shook her lovely dark hair back from her face. “I wish to do more. You have done so much for me. All of you, of course, but you especially.”

  Waverly shook her head. “Your part is so important today,” she promised.

  “But I wish to stand up to the man who is threatening my family! My father, he has done nothing wrong. He is a good man,” Petra insisted.

  “He’s a wonderful man,” Waverly agreed. Feeling her stomach pitch at the thought of her own parent who was now facing danger from Brad. “And we’re not going to let him or anyone else pay the price for Brad’s greed. I know you think your role is small today. But believe me, it’s essential.”

  Petra sighed, and Pixie let out a tiny squeak. She put the dog down on the table, and Waverly watched as little P
ixie immediately trotted toward the edge.

  Waverly levered out of her chair and snatched the pup up, saving her from a steep fall or the miniature suicide she’d planned. Petra didn’t seem to notice. She was too busy staring at Waverly’s left hand.

  “This ring?” She grabbed Waverly’s hand and held it up to her face. “Four carats, cushion cut, with the slightest hint of blush,” she assessed. “Does this mean what I think?”

  Waverly glanced down at the beautiful stone that winked up at her. “Good eye. Yes, but we’re keeping it under wraps until tonight… when all of this is behind us.” God, she hoped it would be behind them. There was so much more at stake now.

  Petra wrapped her in a tight hug, squashing the tiny dog between them. “This absolves me of my guilt!”

  Waverly gave a half-hearted laugh. “There has never been anything more than friendship between Dante and me,” she promised. “You have nothing to feel guilty about.”

  Petra waved her declaration away. “Dante often tries to protect my feelings,” she confessed with a knowing smile. “But he loves me, and we will be a family soon. And now I can be happy because you are also happy with your Xavier.”

  “My Xavier,” Waverly repeated softly. Her Xavier who would move heaven and earth to keep her safe and give her anything she wanted.

  Petra nodded. “You two are a team. It is nice to see two people who love and trust each other. Just like Dante and me!”

  Waverly handed the squirming ball of suicidal fur back to Petra.

  “You are sure that there is nothing more that I can do today to help?”

  Waverly shook her head. “Just get dressed in that perfect Petra outfit you and Kate picked out, remember to smile and wave, and this whole thing will all be over soon.” God, she hoped she wasn’t lying.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  The Grand Central Market was an eclectic mash of cuisine and culture. Housed in a six-story reinforced concrete building, the market sprawled over the entire first floor throwing up the scents of a hundred different foods. People of all ages and ethnicities wandered the stands choosing prime cuts of meat from delicatessens and lining up for Bento boxes and fresh donuts. The noise, the smells, the entire environment was making Waverly’s stomach churn.

  She’d been on missions before but never with stakes this high.

  She’d dressed to blend in a baseball hat, plaid shirt, and denim shorts. Her partner in crime, on the other hand, wore a pair of jeans so distressed they could unravel at any second and a voluminous knit poncho in alternating stripes of gray and pink. She too wore a hat, a floppy brimmed sunhat in chocolate brown, and oversized sunglasses.

  They sat in a café just inside the market entrance at a table barely big enough for the two cups of coffee Waverly had ordered. She didn’t touch hers, having had more than enough caffeine, a surprise proposal, and then a blazing orgasm already that morning. She didn’t need to get any sharper, or she might shatter into pieces.

  On this particular Saturday morning, the market was overflowing with foot traffic. Xavier had chosen the venue well. Crowded and chaotic, the friendly flow of shoppers provided perfect cover for a handful of private security agents, a movie star spy, and the feds that were watching her.

  “I hope you’re ready for this, Petra,” Waverly said without moving her lips at the woman across from her.

  “You’re looking a little green, Sinner,” Xavier’s voice rang reassuringly in her ear. “You two are going to do great.”

  Waverly had to stop herself from asking him to promise her they’d all come out of this unscathed. The stakes were so much higher than they had been just a few hours ago. She picked out a handful of friendly faces in the crowd. Xavier’s team certainly blended better than the six men and women she’d identified as feds. They should have been here to have her back, to arrest Brad for the games he’d been playing with national security. But instead they were here for her.

  In the car on the way over, a story had broken about Dante Wrede going missing and Waverly Sinner being the last person to see him alive. The article alluded that police were interested in discussing Dante’s disappearance with her.

  Brad was covering his tracks and planning to dump the bulk of his sins in her lap. But she wasn’t going down without a fight.

  She glanced around them, pretending to fiddle with her coffee. There was a woman who’d been studying the deli’s sausage links with great enthusiasm for almost ten full minutes. FBI, Waverly assumed. She wondered briefly if this was Brad’s plan, having her arrested here and pinning his crimes on her. She certainly looked guilty enough hanging on to a pouting kidnap victim. Even if the truth came out, she’d never see her mother again.

  But he was in show business and having her picked up now lacked the drama of a showdown. Besides, she could hold her own in a battle of he said, she said. No, Brad wanted all the players here so no one law enforcement related would witness their showdown. Someplace private. Someplace he would have control of.

  “You’re doing great, Angel. Just hang in there,” Xavier said soothingly in her ear.

  “Thanks, X,” she said quietly into her shoulder mic. She shoved her nerves back. There was no room to think clearly if she was panicking on the inside. This would work. She would make it work. And she’d kick Brad square in the balls before the end of the day. The thought comforted her.

  Her phone buzzed in her hand. It was him.

  “Hello?” Waverly answered.

  “Good morning again, sunshine,” Brad’s voice rang out with the cheerfulness of a man who was about to get everything he wanted. “Follow my instructions, and you’ll see your mother alive again. Fuck with me, and you won’t.”

  “I’m not fucking with you. I brought Petra,” she said, tightening her grip on the girl’s arm.

  “Take your radio out of your ear and get rid of the mic.”

  Waverly hesitated and glanced around her. She felt the gazes of a dozen people weighing on her. She tapped her foot nervously under the table. One long tap followed by two short ones.

  “Don’t sit there waiting to be rescued. Do it now!” he shouted through the phone. Shit. He definitely had a visual on her. It could be anyone with a cell phone out or a well-placed hidden camera.

  She plucked the radio out of her ear and whispered a hasty “I love you” into her shoulder mic as she removed it, too.

  “Radio’s out,” she confirmed quietly into the phone.

  “On the count of ten, I want you to walk your friend out that exit behind the butcher. Throw your radio in the trashcan on your way out,” Brad told her. Waverly gauged the distance from their table to the side door. It was about thirty feet, and a lot could happen in thirty feet.

  The federal agents were reacting to her change in behavior, not even bothering to avoid eye contact. She could tell that everyone felt the change in the air.

  “Go. Walk out the fucking door now,” Brad ordered.

  Waverly grabbed the edge of Petra’s poncho and started hauling ass toward the cooler case of meat. She dumped the radio in the trashcan and felt like she had just stepped out of a plane without a parachute. A huge group of Japanese tourists chose that moment to wander down the aisle, creating mayhem everywhere.

  Waverly shoved the exterior door open and kept a strong grip on the poncho.

  “We’re out,” she told him. The sidewalk was crowded with people watching a street performer act like a statue.

  “Good. Now get on the bus.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” A fire engine red double decker Hollywood tour bus waited at the curb.

  “Do I sound like I’m kidding?” Brad yelled into the phone. Waverly heard a crash and then a scream. Her mother’s scream.

  “Jesus! Don’t you fucking hurt her. We’re getting on the bus.”

  She pushed the woman on ahead of her and paid in cash for the tickets. The doors closed after her, and the bus pulled away from the curb. Away from Xav
ier. Away from help.

  “Go up onto the second level and sit in the two front seats,” Brad ordered through the phone.

  Waverly gestured up and followed Petra’s holey jeans up the skinny staircase.

  “We’re up,” she said. There were a dozen people on the second level, but the two front seats were open. Her phone signaled another incoming call, but she ignored it. “Where are we going?”

  The tour guide’s voice droned over the loudspeaker directing guests to look right and left at the highlights of downtown.

  “You don’t get to ask the questions. Now sit down and don’t move your phone away from your ear. You’re not alone up there, and if I see you trying to signal anyone or get help, Mommy’s getting a bullet in her head.” She heard the ominous sound of a gun slide racking.

  Waverly wet her lips. “I won’t try to signal anyone. Can I talk to her?”

  “When you get here and hand over the girl, you’ll have all the time in the world to talk.”

  “What are you going to do to us?” Waverly asked. She didn’t have to force the tremor in her voice.

  “Well, Waverly, since you’ve been such a headache to me, I’m going to kill you. But if you hold up your end of the bargain and bring me Petra. Then I’ll let your mother go free.”

  There was an ice cube’s chance in a hell-hosted barbecue that he’d let anyone walk away. But right now, Waverly was her mother’s only chance.

  “Brad, there’s no way you’re walking away from this. You can’t just get rid of all the loose ends.”

  He laughed harshly in her ear. “Don’t try to talk your way out of this. This isn’t some contract negotiation. Your usefulness ends the second you deliver Petra, yet you’re still following orders. Who’s the idiot in this situation?”

  “The bus is stopping,” she told him evenly. They had entered a movie studio lot. Not just any studio’s lot. It was Target Studios’ gated lot with its fifteen huge warehouses and soundstages. The tour guide’s disembodied voice was asking everyone to disembark and choose a tram car.