Cash: A Dark Romance (Saint and Sinners Book 2)

by Ruby Vincent

  I shimmied up and down his chest. “Now that I’ve rubbed my dirty body on you, do you have to shower again?”

  Chuckling, Baris handed me the bodywash.

  “My plan worked,” I said.

  I squirted the foaming bodywash on my hands, and went to work, gliding over his hard, unyielding form. You didn’t have to tell me Brutal was a fighter. Every part of him was honed to peak physical condition. His ass rock hard. His calves sculpted perfection. He was human-made, but divinely formed, and I took my time.

  “Baris.” I wrote his name in the suds, then mine beneath it. “I love your name. So unique. Mercer believes the name you’re given says nothing about you, but I think Baris was meant for you.”

  This was the part where people launched into their history. Why their parents chose their name. If they did or didn’t like it. If they agreed with Mercer. What they watched on television the other night. What they’re doing today.

  Chatter. Chatter. Chatter.

  We say so much we don’t need to say, filling the air with noise to beat back the oppressive silence where our fears lived. The quiet place where our past came to haunt us. Where I looked deep inside of myself and wondered about the person I became, and who I could’ve been. Where I searched for regrets, and found none.

  I couldn’t say what lived in Brutal’s silence. Did he play court to his demons because he was home among them, or was he their captive?

  All I knew is it’s where we met every day. In the secrets we shared. The jokes that were ours alone. The quick smiles and full-blown laughs. We said everything we needed to say to each other without speaking.

  Brutal turned me around. He dripped shampoo on my hair, and curled my hand around his cock.

  Yes, the man had no problem getting his point across.

  We stayed in the shower for longer than I meant to. Getting each other off and cleaning the other up.

  “Your breakfast is getting cold.”

  I formed his hair into a mohawk, earning me a swat on the backside. I hid my face in his neck giggling.

  “I’m visiting my dad today,” I told him. “Next time, I’ll bring you to meet him. Do you want to?”

  Cupping my chin, he nodded.

  “My dad will like you. He’ll probably only threaten three or four times to chop you up and dissolve your body in quicklime if you hurt me. Mercer will get it some more. Saint’s going to be a straight-up hard sell.”

  Brutal laughed.

  “He hasn’t taken to a single one of my boyfriends. In the end, I didn’t take to them too much either, so who can blame him. But you guys”—I rose and rubbed our noses—“I want him to meet you. Something tells me you’ll eventually get the nod of approval.”

  He raised a brow.

  “He won’t care that there are three of you.” I was still smarting over Cash landing me in the shit and walking off. “And he doesn’t have to know what you do. Next time, okay?”

  He delivered his agreement with kisses that made me even later getting out of the shower.

  I padded out in my towel, passing Cash as he went into his office. The bigger digs had given him extra space and two rooms to make his own. My glimpse through the closing door was a wall covered with papers, clippings, names, and dates. The visual representation of his mind.

  I wondered if there was a wall in his mind for me that looked like this, but that was almost a certainty.

  Killian said he trusted me. Told me he would stop following me. However, he was still holding back. Saint put me at arm’s length because he didn’t know if he could love me. Cash flatly stated he wouldn’t.

  It’s different with him. My unpredictability appeals to Saint, but Cash needs to know. What I’ll do in a given situation. How I’ll react. I present a problem to him that he can’t solve, and my instinct says he won’t let that go as easily as he claimed.

  I inched the door open, watching him rub clean a whiteboard through the slit.

  Cash was a threat to my plans. If he figured out what I was after before I got to it... that would be a problem.

  My initial plan had been to kill the Merchants but it wasn’t that simple anymore.

  I could just kill Cash. I rested my head on the doorframe. Do I still want him after the trouble he’s caused me?

  A dry voice broke into my musing. “Do you want something?”

  I pushed the crack wider. Cash turned, facing me.

  “What—”

  The towel pooled on the floor.

  Surprise broke his mask.

  I slowly padded toward him, drinking in his open stare, delighting in the quick swipe of his tongue across his mouth. Killian went to return the eraser and missed by a mile. It dropped on the floor—ignored as he closed the distance, gaze caressing my body to entice a shiver up my spine.

  Saint once said I didn’t spare the effort on makeup and fancy clothes because I knew I was the most beautiful woman in any room. That wasn’t true.

  It was when Killian looked at me. The naked desire he tried and failed to conceal behind his impenetrable wall of steel. That’s when I knew.

  He cupped the back of my neck, pressing his kiss to smiling lips.

  I twirled out of his hold. The kiss over as quickly as it began.

  “Yes, I do.”

  Killian blinked as if waking from a daze. “What?”

  I do still want you. I said as much out loud.

  “And you want me,” I stated. “But you’re bound and determined to make this difficult, and you know what, so am I.”

  I grinned. “I said I’d make you pay. From now on”—I cupped my breasts, pushing them together—“it’s dropped towels, not-so-accidental brushes, and graphic details on all the things you will be getting once you apologize, Killian Hunt. Wait till you see my dangle game when I’m actually playing.”

  I tweaked my nipples, winning both a snarl and a tightening in his pants. “Want to surprise everyone and give in now?”

  It’s a strange mix. Blindingly furious and deeply aroused. Cash was giving off both in waves. I could’ve sworn he was asking himself the same question. Did he want me more than his desire to put his next bomb under my bed?

  I blew him a kiss. “I have to go, baby, but I’ll sext you when I get there.”

  Skipping out, I paused to bend over and pick up my towel, wiggling my ass. His roar sent me scurrying out the door just as the first object struck the wall. My laugh couldn’t be heard over the rest.

  Chapter Four

  “Addy.”

  I quickly hit send on the detailed explanation of what I’d do to Cash’s cock when I got home, adding a “have my apology on a platter, and you’ll have me next,” on the end.

  Mrs. Rowe scooped me up in a hug tighter than the ones she gave her grandchildren. No joke. I witnessed the one-armed, side hugs myself. To be fair, I came to see her more than they ever did, and I brought snacks.

  “How are you, dear?” She smiled that warm, pleasant smile that put me at ease the first day Dad and I set foot here. Her long, grayish hair wound in a beehive atop her head, and every day she came to work in colorful pantsuits. That day’s pick was lime green.

  “It’s been so long. I was worried you and your father got into a fight.”

  Of course she thought something was wrong. I visited my father at least twice a week—rain or shine. Double shift or all-nighter. Dropping off the map for weeks, I wouldn’t have been surprised if they called the morgue fearing the worst.

  “No, nothing like that.” I was just kidnapped by a band of men who will inevitably further my plan of taking over the city. What do you think of Queenpin?

  “I got sick,” I said. “Pretty bad. I couldn’t risk Daddy and the other residents catching it. Then, I was out so many days at work, I got fired.”

  She clapped her hand over her mouth.

  “Finding another job took up all my time,” I finished. “But everything is good now. I’m working as a private chef, and I get every Sunday off to see Dad.”


  “Addy, dear, I had no idea,” she breathed. “Oh, I feel so awful telling you that you couldn’t send cash. If I’d known how you were struggling— Please, forgive me.”

  “There’s nothing to forgive, Mrs. Rowe. It’s all worked out.”

  “Thank goodness.” Rowe tucked my arm in hers. “You must be anxious to see him. We booked a magician for a live performance in the ballroom.”

  Yes, ballroom. Waterford Retirement Home had the amenities to justify the eye-watering bill they sent me every month. Failing health and my father’s penchant for disregarding it, brought us to the point that I either had to move in and look after him, or a staff of nurses would do it for me. He had a heart condition and high blood pressure that made taking it easy and monitoring the signs vital. Still, I’d come home to him smoking a cigar on the porch after his second glass of whiskey.

  I chose moving in with him, and Dad chose the home. He refused to get in the way of my schooling and career, and nothing I said would change his mind. We settled on Waterford Home with its policy that families could visit whenever they wished, and the residents in his wing retained their independence.

  The place was three floors of single bedrooms, full beds, attached bathrooms, downy comforters, and a menu that got my seal of approval.

  Most of the residents were like Dad. Which gave them plenty to talk about on the nights they stayed up playing poker in the billiards room, or kicking their feet in the swimming pool while Mrs. Rowe and the staff grill up something special for another themed lunch.

  My dad lived better than most people these days, but he earned it. Even if it meant lying about a pay raise from Salvatore’s so he stopped fighting me on this place being too expensive. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him, and thanks to my new loves, I could keep Dad in comfort until I set us up in a grand penthouse overlooking our city.

  “Here we are.” Mrs. Rowe led us into the ballroom. “Would you like to stay and watch the show?”

  Rows of blue leather chairs lined the floor, and nearly every one was taken. It was a packed house for the man on top of the stage. Dressed in a tight, black suit and exaggerated black eyeliner, Mysterio flourished an ornate hand mirror. As we watched, he held the mirror sideways and stuck his hand through the surface.

  “Can you see my fingers wiggling?”

  We couldn’t. There was nothing to see.

  “The trick, ladies and gentlemen”—he slid to the side—“is to make everyone look in the wrong place.”

  A mirror stood behind him. The disembodied hand waved and waggled its fingers at us.

  The room burst into applause.

  “He’s pretty good,” I said, “but I’ve got lunch cooling in the car. I’ll set the table in Dad’s room. It’ll be ready when he’s done.”

  “I’ll help.”

  Mrs. Rowe and I made short work of setting the table and laying out my creations. The space Dad called his own mimicked Saint’s in décor. As in, there were few personal touches. His clothes hung neat and pressed in the closet. His weekly borrow from the library rested on the side table by the armchair. On the windowsill was a spider plant dutifully tended.

  Where they differed, were the photos of me on his dresser. Baby Adeline. Adeline at the animal sanctuary. Adeline’s high school and college graduation.

  I wonder what Saint would do if I snuck photos of myself on his mantle. Or if I moved my things into his room completely.

  He’d tie you to the bed so you never thought of leaving again, another voice replied.

  That was the correct answer.

  “Addy.”

  I ran to hug my dad. Bad back and all, he spun me off my feet.

  “There’s my girl. Where have you been?”

  “It’s been crazy, Dad. I’ll tell you all about it over gumbo.”

  “You spoil an old man.”

  I kissed his cheek. “Nothing old about you.”

  “I knew there was a reason you were my favorite.”

  “And your only.”

  Putting me on my feet, he shot me a wink. “That we know of. I could have dozens of bastards out there.”

  A throat cleared. “I’ll let you two have family time,” Rowe said. “Goodbye.”

  “I’ll save some for you,” I called.

  “No, she won’t,” Dad called back. “There won’t be a grain left when I’m through.”

  Laughing, I guided Dad to his chair, and then plopped into mine. I already felt ten times lighter than when I came in. There were so many walls I had to hide myself behind every minute of every day. But not from my father. With him, I could be myself.

  How could I not be? I saw myself in the set to his chin and his wide smile. I was the result of his knowledge, teaching, and legacy. If only one heir could be fashioned in a father’s image, that was me.

  “What kept you away?” he asked.

  “I didn’t want to get into it on the phone,” I began, “but you remember the Merchants?”

  He inclined his head. “New gang. Unconventional. Flashy. Cocky. In my day, you didn’t need masks. You walked into a room and people lowered their eyes out of respect.”

  “Or fear,” I added.

  “That too.” Dad took my bowl and piled on more. I was the chef, but it was his mission to plump me up. “What about them?”

  “I witnessed them kill Raiden Spencer, so they kidnapped me and gave me one of those job offers you can’t say no to.”

  His face changed. Not by surprise. My father was too old and seasoned by experience to be shocked. He got up and flipped his mattress off the box spring. A gaping tear lay exposed for all to see.

  “Daddy, you ripped another hole in the mattress? They make me pay to replace these things you know.”

  He pulled out a gun. “Where are they?”

  “Relax.” I eased him into the seat, hugging his shoulders, and rested my cheek on his brown and gray curls. “This is why I didn’t tell you sooner. We were still ironing out the logistics and I didn’t want you getting worked up and raising your blood pressure, when I could kill them just as easily.”

  “What did they do to you?” he demanded.

  “Nothing. They didn’t rape or force themselves on me. They didn’t even draw blood,” I said. “I made things pretty simple and took the job at an outrageous salary.”

  Dad was tense in my hold. “What job?”

  “Cook and housemaid like I told you. That was true.”

  “Nothing else?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Do they know who you are?” he pressed.

  “No, Dad. They don’t have a clue, and I’m not going to give any up. I’m dating one or more of them.” I moved to my seat. “And my innocent act is a big draw.”

  Dad finally set the gun on the table. “If these boys are such gentlemen, you’ll have no problem filling in the rest of what you left out.”

  I did—telling him about my short time with the leaders of the Merchants. Plus, the quirks and personalities of my new loves.

  “When do I meet them?”

  “Soon, I hope. I know you’ll like them.”

  “Don’t be so sure. They dragged you back into a life you worked hard to get out of.” Dad gestured with the shrimp on the end of his fork. “Don’t be sure of that at all.”

  “But you won’t try to kill them, will you?”

  He flashed me a stern look.

  “Daddy, promise me.”

  “Depends.” Dad bore into me. “Are these guys after the ledger?”

  I held his gaze for a beat, then my eyes dropped.

  “Adeline, you promised me.”

  “It’s not like I told them to,” I cried. “They’ve been after Kieran and the ledger long before I met them. What was I supposed to do?”

  “Get out.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Why?”

  “I... love them.” Not the only reason but that partial truth was enough to warm my cheeks. Especially as his eyes narrowed.


  “Love them?” Dad waved that away. “You’re twenty-three, Adeline. You’ll love many men in your life. There’s no reason you should risk it all for passing flames.”

  “It’s not real love if you aren’t willing to risk it all.”

  He observed me. “Never thought I’d hear my girl say something like that.”

  “What can I say?” I folded my arms—embarrassed for no good reason. “I’ve come around to majority opinion. Love isn’t complete bullshit. Soulmates exist.”

  “Soulmates?” he snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  My dad didn’t intend to be harsh. Hell, a few months ago I would’ve been rolling my eyes along with him.

  “Love is not a predetermined thing,” he continued. “It’s not fated or written in the stars. It’s rarely felt even by those who promise they do. Love is action, Adeline. It’s sacrificing all that matters because that person matters more. Can you say that about them?”

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  His gaze didn’t let me go. “Can they say that about you?”

  I pressed my lips together, heart thumping audibly in my chest.

  “Well?”

  Clearing my throat, I said, “I wouldn’t be here if they couldn’t. Dad, I know what you said, and I know what I promised, but you have to tell me everything you know about Kieran and the ledger.”

  “Adeline!”

  “They’re going after him, and there’s nothing I can do to stop them,” I said. “It’s personal, Dad. Sinjin’s father was murdered before his eyes in the hunt for Kieran, and I can’t begin to guess what Kieran has done to Brutal, Cash, and Mercer. They want that ledger, and they don’t care that Cash predicts one or more of them will die in the attempt.

  “I won’t let that happen.” And I meant that with every fiber of my being. “The Merchants have to get to it before the others discover they’ve joined the hunt. Before Kieran does. Tell me what you know, Dad.”

  “I have. I’ve told you countless times, Addy, and then I made you swear not to act. You made a promise to your father.”

  “And you made promises to me! You told me the city would be mine. That I was destined for greatness. Dad, you taught me everything you know. Molded me into the strongest version of myself, and then one day it was over. I was just supposed to disappear into a mediocre life with a blank future. How is that fair to me? What about what I want?”