BAD SAINT (All the Pretty Things #1)

Seven-2

I watch as he crosses the room in three large steps and heads into the bathroom. A small brown towel hangs from a hook, and he reaches for it, running it over his hair, face, and back of his neck. His long-sleeved shirt is soaked and clings to him like a second skin. It’s difficult not to notice his rippling muscles and well-defined physique.

However, when he grips the edge of his shirt and tears it over his head, it’s impossible not to admire that hard body in the flesh. His skin is slick and bronzed, and when he rubs the towel over his chest and abs, I’m transfixed by the way his hypnotic six-pack undulates. His obliques are firm and toned, adding to the muscled ecstasy.

I instantly turn my cheek, though, as I hate this response I have to him.

There is no mistaking him stepping out of his soggy boots, and when I hear his belt buckle and pants hit the floor, a shiver passes over me. Curiosity wins out in the end, and I sneak a peek, gasping when I see him standing in nothing but black boxer briefs.

He is drying himself off, and a simple chore shouldn’t be able to elicit this response from me, but it does. I suddenly get hot. His legs are lean, muscled, but it’s the impressive bulge which has me biting my lip to stifle my approval.

Once he’s dry, he enters the room, and I quickly turn away, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing me look at him without disgust. I almost breathe a sigh of relief when I hear him unfasten a bag and the rustle of clothes alerts me to him hunting for something to wear.

When I hear a zipper being pulled up, my heart begins to slow down.

When I think it’s safe, I gingerly look his way, only to see he’s still topless. He has no shoes on either. Just pants. They sit low on his narrow hips which just seems to accentuate his hardened V muscle. His wet hair hangs around his face and appears longer, and I really wish he’d put on a shirt because his tattoo and n****e piercing and entire nakedness are distracting.

I welcome a deafening thunderclap because it jolts me from my gawking.

“It’ll pass,” Saint comforts me, which is strange as his assurance feels foreign.

I nod in response, hugging my knees to my chest. “Are we safe in this thing?”

He c***s his head to the side, a grin shaping those sinful lips. “I didn’t think you’d care if we capsized.” He’s right, I wouldn’t, especially after what Kazimir revealed today. But regardless, it feels strange seeing him smile. I don’t see it often, but it suits him.

There is a sudden silence. The air is heavy with unspoken, forbidden words. I know why that is a moment later. “I spoke to Popov earlier.” My hunch was right, but it doesn’t feel good to be right. “We will be in Russia in about seven days. There are a few stops along the way, but we will be there in a week or so.”

I don’t know why he’s telling me this.

He walks toward the mattress, standing in front of me, waiting for me to speak. But I have nothing to say.

“He asked about you,” he reveals. I lower my eyes, not wanting him to see me cry. “I told him he wouldn’t be disappointed. I sent him your picture.” No doubt the one he took of me as a submissive little lamb.

If this is some sort of pep talk, then Saint shouldn’t give up his day job.

Unable to stomach any more, I lower myself to the mattress and lie on my side, my back turned to Saint. I weep silent tears. They slip into my parted lips, and I taste salty sadness. It’s a flavor I should be accustomed to.

The storm is now a welcomed disturbance as the wild wind and ferocious waves drown out my weeping. In seven days, life as I know it will forever be changed. And there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it.

Using my hands as a pillow, I prop them under my head, wishing sleep would finally save me from the horrifying images swirling around my mind. However, when the mattress dips minutes later, and I feel a comforting warmth at my back, those images soon settle and are replaced with silence.

My heart begins to race, and my breathing is shallow because there must be some mistake, but when a comforting fragrance floats through the air, I know that there is no mistake. Saint has laid down behind me.

He doesn’t touch me, but the heat from his body instantly thaws the chill, and I melt. My world calms. I don’t know why he’s lying with me, but I don’t question it because I need this human connection. I know this is crazy, but honestly, I’m forever questioning my sanity, especially when I languidly shuffle backward so I can feel his breath on the back of my neck.

We’re still inches apart, but knowing he’s beside me has a warmth spreading from head to toe. And the action within itself…I don’t understand. Why is he offering me this comfort? I want to ask him. But I don’t. I’m afraid he’ll pull away, and I need this.

I need him.

I decide to tell him about what Kazimir said when I wake because now, the sluggish tempo of his inhales and exhales lulls me into a sleepy bubble, and I surrender, sleeping beside my captor.

When I was a child, I used to suffer terrible night terrors, so much so, my father gave up his own bed so I could sleep by my mother. The comfort of knowing she was there beside me gave me a false sense of security, but even so, my dreams weren’t as real when I wasn’t alone.

When I woke up screaming, she would comfort me and tell me it was all right. That is was only a bad dream. Hearing her voice and smelling her perfume caused the terror to fade, and I would realize it was just a nightmare.

I would give anything for her to tell me that again because when I feel something cold and hard press against my forehead, I know this isn’t a bad dream. This is real.

“Wake up, bitch.”

My eyes snap open.

Before me are two men or, rather, two monsters. The biggest monster of all, Kazimir, crouches down beside me with the barrel of a gun pressed to my brow. Instantly, I jerk back, but his hand snaps out and grips me by the bicep. “And where do you think you’re going?”

I squirm against his hold, but it’s useless.

“I told you, you owe me. It’s time to pay up.” He yanks me up violently while I writhe with all my might against his hold. However, when I see a bloodied Saint slouched in front of me with two men on either side of him, holding him back, my fight dies a quick death.

The one to his left grins, and I immediately remember him. He was one of Pipe’s men. He seems to have taken on the role of captain, which has me believing Pipe is dead. Saint struggles wildly, but he doesn’t stand a chance as he’s clearly wounded.

His face is a bloodied mess, but that seems secondary as the deep gash to his side gushing bright red blood has my utmost attention. Those pained grunts and winded exhalations, I believed them to be just a bad dream, but seeing Saint, bloodied and wounded, I know they ambushed him when he was asleep…beside me.

He let his guard down for a split second, but he will pay for that moment dearly. I instantly feel guilty for being so needy because if I hadn’t, we wouldn’t be in this dire position. Without a doubt, they will kill him, and as for me, it looks like I’m about to finally pay my dues.

“Meet your new master, Gringo,” Kazimir cockily says, waving the gun in the direction of the dirty, destitute looking man. He wears black pants with holes torn in the knees and a faded NIKE T-shirt. A red bandana holds back his long and matted hair.

When he sneers, I see he’s missing a few teeth. The remaining ones are yellowed, like someone who has smoked too much tobacco. “Hello, peach. We’re going to have some fun. Payback for what you did to Pipe. And once we’re through, I have someone else who is very interested in seeing if you taste as sweet as you look.”

Saint thrashes about madly, but when his other captor punches his wound, he screams in utter torment. I lock eyes with him, wondering what it feels like for my captor to now be a captive, but seeing him bound doesn’t give me any satisfaction. The need to help him overcomes me, but I stay put.

Kazimir sold me out to god knows how many people. But this is personal for Gringo. I was inadvertently the reason for his friend’s demise. He will ensure I pay. And pay dearly.

A bolt of lightning sparks to life, alerting me to the ferocious storm outside. It also kicks Kazimir’s plan into motion. “Now, before I give you to Gringo, you owe me and Adal a taste.”

When Adal steps forward, I know that the identity of my last captor has finally been revealed. I only have to look into those beady, cruel eyes to know he’s the asshole who pistol-whipped me. He and Kazimir are here for their pound of flesh.

I flail frantically, but when Kazimir shoves the gun into my lower back, I freeze, a breath hitching in my throat. “No,” I plead, but Adal advances toward me, running a hand over his rubbery lips.

Kazimir cackles cruelly, his grip on my arm punishing. “You were always the favorite,” he snaps at Saint who is breathing heavily through clenched teeth. “Could never do no wrong by Boss. You arrogant bastard. This will teach you for telling me what to do. You can watch us f**k your precious ангел until she’s begging us to kill her.”

Saint struggles violently, grunting and gnashing his teeth, but it’s no use. This is happening, and this time, there is no one here to save me.

“And when we’re done f*****g this tight cunt”—he grips my hair and yanks my head backward—“we will kill you. The last thing you see will be all of us breaking her in two.”

Tears stream down my face.

“You won’t get away with this,” Saint spits, eyes narrowed, blood dripping from his lips. “Boss will know what you did. He will find you and make you wish I’d killed you.”

Kazimir bursts into a sarcastic chuckle. “Good luck to him. I’m sick of being his dog. I was the one who should have been his right-hand man, not you!” There is anger behind his words, but I focus on who Saint is to Popov.

His right-hand man. His most trusted friend. But what does Popov have that Saint wants in return? It’s evident he didn’t just fall into this lifestyle, which has me believing he was forced…but why?

However, those questions will forever remain unanswered because when Adal shoves me backward and my back slams into the wall, it’s apparent question time is over. He paws at me eagerly—over my breasts and down between my thighs.

He slams his mouth to mine, and I’m instantly hit with the taste of whiskey. I gag, the liquor reminding me of Kenny, and I attempt to push him off, but Kazimir presses the gun to my temple. I am helpless to move.

Adal lifts the hem of my dress, thrusting his hips into me, so I’m able to feel his erection. He forcefully touches me over my s*x, laughing in utter amusement when I try to close my legs. Kazimir joins in with the assault, licking and sucking along my neck while he fondles my breasts. When he pinches my n*****s, I whimper in pain.