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

by Ruby Vincent

  Cash got to his feet. “We’ll make the message clear. You’re under the Merchants’ protection. If she goes near you again, the pimp won’t be the only one we kill. Everyone she’s ever met will die until she truly knows what it is to have nothing.”

  They left. I grabbed Saint as he made to follow.

  I couldn’t trust him not to kill my mother if faced with her. He likely planned to do just that in spite of my wishes, believing he was doing me a favor.

  Wouldn’t he be?

  I pushed the thought away. Jocelyn Daniels was my curse to bear. My demon to battle.

  Weaving my fingers through Mercer’s, I held their hands.

  They let me—silent and gentle as their eyes asked, “Why?”

  CASH

  I pushed into my room.

  Adeline sat cross-legged on my bed. Her hair was damp from a shower and the baggy shirt was likely from Sinjin. The fresh hickey on her must also have been a gift from Sinjin. His attempt to comfort her the best he knew how. But her long, bare legs on my duvet. Soft and shapely and drawing my eye even now were all hers.

  I flicked away—biting a rare flash of shame. This was not the time.

  “She’s alive,” I stated. “Her boyfriend is not. Your car is out front where it should be.”

  She nodded, eyes down.

  Crossing to my dresser, I unstrapped my holster, set it and my gun down. My belt was next. Rolled tight and put in its place in the second drawer from the top on the left side. Everything had its place.

  I glanced at Adeline, slipping under my covers and curling on the pillow. This is hers.

  “Thank you.”

  It was so soft, I almost didn’t catch it.

  “This is a rare moment,” I said. “I’m going to do something I haven’t done in five years, eight months, and two days.”

  She looked confused. “What?”

  “Say that you were right, and I was wrong. Some things... are none of my damn business.” My grip tightened on the gun handle. “All the same, thank you for letting me and Brutal handle this.”

  Fire burned my gut as the giver of Adeline’s reddish-hair, light eyes, and the button nose that wrinkled as she promised to turn my world upside down, showered my face with spittle shouting and screaming abuse for her only child. I heard her shrieking. Felt the piercing nails and thrashing as I forced her to watch Brutal beat to death the bastard who attacked Adeline.

  She pled for his well-being, but cursed Adeline to suffer every day as payment for imagined wrongs. We left her on the floor of their pig-slop apartment, swearing she’d never stop coming after Adeline. She’d get what was owed her.

  “You’ve been through enough today,” I finished.

  “Mom was her usual winning self, I assume.”

  “Five minutes with her and I wanted to blow her brains out. Or mine. I wasn’t fussed at that point.”

  She laughed softly.

  I continued stripping, shedding my sweater, then the shirt. My pants joined them on the floor.

  Adeline was correct about more than one thing. We’d had sex and spent an entire night opening up to each other. We could drop a few pretenses.

  “I don’t know how you survived all those years. Just a child. Living in her grip. But I do know, you’re stronger than anyone can comprehend.”

  “I like you being sweet to me.”

  I slid in bed with her, expecting her to wiggle under my arm and letting it happen. She brushed her lips on my chin.

  “Keep doing it.”

  “I knew something was up when you sent me this.” I passed her my phone.

  Adeline squinted at the screen. Scrolling. Scrolling.

  Her eyes popped.

  Our texts that day shone in stark black and white

  Cash: Let me correct that fantasy for you, Redgrave. Chains, cuffs, and cages are Sinjin’s bag. Not mine. If I found the hot little assistant snooping, we’d fight. You’d pull my hair, rake your nails down my back, break me in half clamping your thighs around my waist. That I’d be fucking you on my desk for the whole bank to hear would make no difference.

  I’d spread that pussy wide. Plunging my fingers deep in that greedy cunt till you came screaming to crack the windows. You’ll make your promises to keep that tasty mouth shut as you lick them clean. Got anything you want to add?

  (Not) Adeline: Yes. I want to add a real man in this fantasy with a dick I don’t need a map to find. I wouldn’t let you near my cunt for all the money in Cinco City Bank. You’re pathetic. A weak, sniveling virgin playing like the big man in Imagination Land because in reality, women want nothing to do with you. I want nothing to do with you. Cut that Skittle dick off and choke on it.

  If you can.

  Adeline gaped. “I swear, I didn’t write a word of this.”

  “I know.”

  “Jocelyn is such a—! Skittle dick?!”

  “Particularly cutting.”

  “Like I don’t know from experience it’s far from Skittle size. I was sore for days.”

  “Thank you.”

  She blew out a frustrated breath, burying her face in my neck. “Ever since she tracked me down my freshman year, she’s made it her life’s goal to ruin everything I touch,” she said. “She slept with one of my boyfriends and took great pleasure in telling me the details. She hates that she can’t use me anymore. That I won’t put her up in the room next to Dad, and return her to a life of easy money and easy drugs. She hates me, Killian.”

  I wanted to say that wasn’t true. But I saw the expression in those bulging eyes, and I found myself agreeing with Adeline for the third time that night. It was hard being the man who saw everything.

  I held her close, fitting her body perfectly under mine. Adeline started shaking. Soft huffing noises slipped between our bodies.

  “What are you doing?” I rose on my forearm and the muffled sound rang clear as day.

  Her giggles lit her eyes, and that nose scrunched up. “What she did was awful but... I would’ve given every cent I had to see your face when you read Skittle dick.”

  “Shut up and go to sleep, Redgrave.”

  I flicked the lamp off to more giggling.

  Adeline was there in an instant as I dropped my head on the pillow, draping my arm over her waist and tucking my hand between her legs. I played with her pussy to amuse myself, pleased when the giggles gave way to breathy moans.

  “I hope this isn’t the end of our sexting adventures,” she said. “You’re a mountain I intend to climb, Killian Hunt.”

  “I thought I was a mountain you intended to bring to heel.”

  “That too.”

  “You’ll get neither.” I pressed a kiss on the nape of her neck. “It’s only fair to tell you. Fairer still to say this is a one-night-only pass.”

  “So, if I slip into your bed tomorrow night, you’ll kick me out?”

  “Yes.”

  She pushed my fingers deeper inside her. “I’d like to see you try.”

  ADELINE

  The next night, I marched to Cash’s room, pajamas on, and pillow under my arm. He was sitting on the end of his bed, fixed on the television. He didn’t react when I climbed behind him and rested my chin on his shoulder.

  “What are we watching?” I asked. Though I saw for myself. The news cameras panned on the inferno engulfing the building behind the reporter.

  “Burning strip club.”

  “Morbid.”

  “That’s Thiago Pais’s strip club,” he explained. “Finally.”

  “Finally? This is a good thing?”

  “Yes. It’s down to two and a half, and one of them struck in a big, obvious way that will bring attention they can’t keep quiet. Everyone knows that club is a King club. They’ll either think the Kings are still under attack and too weak to handle the problem. Or it’s in an internal dispute, and they’re too weak to handle their own problems.

  “Either way, the situation will escalate. In two days, Jameson will be dead, Thiago and his escor
ts will go on strike, and Enzo Bianchi will be the new leader of the Kings. Seventy-six percent probability.”

  Two days later, the guys and I stood in the living room. I absentmindedly whisked a bowl of eggs, sugar, and butter destined to become spice cookies.

  “—body of Xavier Jameson found in his penthouse this morning,” said Margot Rose, Channel Nine News. “Mr. Jameson was released from the hospital a few days ago, following a brutal attack at his law firm. Officers are unclear at this time if his death is connected to that assault.”

  “How do we know if it’s Enzo?” I asked.

  “You only have to ask, Bunny.” Saint nodded to Mercer. “Or he does. Call those friends of yours.”

  Mercer did. Calling up three different people who told him the same rumor—which made it the truth.

  In their time of upheaval, Lorenzo Bianchi was stepping up to claim the Kings’ throne.

  “What about Thiago?” I glanced at Cash. “Don’t tell me you were right about that too. Are the escorts on strike?”

  “We don’t strike,” Mercer said, amused. “But yeah, it was a safe bet to claim Thiago and his people wouldn’t be thrilled about being burned alive. Thiago’s going to demand negotiations for a new deal with his escorts and the Kings’ cut. Enzo will trip over a few cash flow issues until that deal is made.”

  “Cash flow issues,” Killian said. “Perfect choice of words.”

  With that, Cash disappeared upstairs to clear a whiteboard. The final pawn had fallen. One last King to contend with.

  After putting my cookies in the oven, I went upstairs to his office. The door swung open as I reached for it. Mercer walked out.

  “Give him a minute, love.”

  “I just wanted to—”

  “I know what you want to do.” He hooked an arm around my neck, carrying me off. “You want to know the strategy that won. Enzo is king of the Kings. Where will Cash move the first piece on the board?”

  I blinked at him, surprised he used the same analogy.

  We marched down the creaky steps, coming out on our floor.

  “I can tell you that just as easily,” Mercer said. “I’m the first piece, and his name is Dax Palmer.”

  “Dax Palmer?”

  Mercer let me go and went into his room. I followed him.

  “Who’s Dax Palmer?”

  Passing over the threshold was leaving old-class charm for modern allure. Triptych paintings and funky wall mirrors looked down on me. A king-size sleigh bed dominated the space, seducing all who entered to take the final step into its arms of black silk sheets and plush throws. He had two bedside tables. One with an erotic statuette, and the other bearing a lamp that stretched high and angled right over the bed.

  “On the bed, gorgeous.”

  I obeyed, hopping on and getting comfortable. I listened to him shuffling around behind me. The current equation of him, plus me, plus bed wasn’t lost on me. I had to wonder if he was thinking the same.

  Mercer always called me love, lovely, beautiful, gorgeous. But for a man with such free ideas about sex, he hadn’t so much as squeezed my boob. I’ve gotten more action from strangers on a crowded bus than this guy.

  Hands squeezed my shoulders, shooting my brows up my forehead. I held frozen as his thumbs kneaded the base of my neck.

  “It’s not often I don’t know what to say.” Warm, experienced fingers skidded over my spine, finding a new spot to massage. A soft sigh escaped my lips. “These last few days, I’ve wanted to comfort you, Adeline. Say something that could make the last twenty-three years of... that woman... okay.”

  I closed my eyes.

  “For the first time, I was at a loss for words.” He pressed a soft kiss to my crown. “But you never are. You’re a woman who knows what she wants. What she feels. Tell me what to do to help. Whether it’s to not mention it again, or renovate that sandwich shop overnight. I’ll do it.”

  His hands didn’t stop during. Kneading knots I didn’t know I had. Pulling my shoulders back. Exposing my neck to his warm breath popping goose bumps on my skin. They spread webs of pleasure spiraling to my toes.

  “Tell me,” he whispered.

  “I do know what I want,” I began slowly, eyes opening. “And it isn’t to talk about Jocelyn. It never will be. What I want is to talk about you, Mercer. To get to know you. Understand you.”

  “If there’s something you want to know, ask me, lovely. I haven’t told you that you shouldn’t.”

  That much was true. Mercer didn’t give direct answers, but I didn’t ask direct questions.

  He laid me flat on the bed, straddling me. My shirt was leisurely drawn up to my neck. Heat suffused my cheeks as my bra straps sprang apart.

  Mercer tipped off and riffled in his bedside drawer. He came out holding a bottle of oil. It was cool on my back, but his diligent hands quickly warmed me up.

  My eyes fought to close again—riding the waves of purring contentment.

  “Keep that right next to the bed, do you?” I murmured.

  “Wait till you see what else I’ve got in there.”

  “That’s my first question, Mercer. Why are we doing this flirty, will-they, won’t-they game? You could be balls deep in me right now.”

  A laugh ripped out of him. “Good to know. But let me ask a question first. What I do, does it bother you?”

  “I don’t judge you.”

  “I appreciate that, but it’s not the answer I’m looking for, and you know it.” He put his mouth to my ear. “Every night a different bed. A different body. A different woman begging for it”—he licked the shell of my ear—“balls deep.”

  I went rigid.

  “Ah.” His tone was light. Almost joking. “There’s my answer.”

  “That’s not your answer. This is,” I said. “Yes. Yes, it would bother me if we were together, and you were sleeping with other people.”

  “You sleep with other people.”

  “That’s different.”

  “How?”

  “I’m in committed relationships with them.”

  “Cash has said more than once that he doesn’t want a relationship with you.”

  “That stubborn ass will wake up soon enough.”

  “And when did you get declarations of commitment and exclusivity from Sinjin and Brutal?”

  I snapped around, glaring. “They’re mine. They belong to me. All of you do. You can wake the fuck up too.” It was out of my mouth before I could stop it. Couldn’t tell if it came from sweet cook Adeline, or her deadly alter ego. Both were pissed.

  Chuckling, Mercer eased me down. “Yes, ma’am. Far be it for me to question my ownership, but this is what I do, Adeline. Where does that leave us?”

  “You stop.”

  “If I don’t want to?”

  “Do you want to?” I asked. “Do you not?”

  “I like what I do. Parties, wine, dancing, seduction, sex. Most people are desperate for a taste of the life I lead every day.”

  I hesitated. “Mercer, it doesn’t seem like you take any of it seriously. Not even as enjoyment. Sometimes, I get the feeling you’re not serious about much of anything. Sex. People. Death. It’s all a game designed to amuse.”

  “Whew. We are getting real.” He splayed his hands on the small of my back and dug deep as he moved to my neck. I imagined my skin rolling out like dough.

  “Am I wrong?”

  “What’s to be serious about? It’s only sex. Man or woman. They’re all a collection of holes paying me to get off. Why shouldn’t it amuse?” He knuckled a knot under my shoulder blade. “Why shouldn’t I have my fun as they sneak me in beneath the security cameras? Dismiss their bodyguards for the night. Unlock their doors. Let me into their bedrooms. Set their phones on the stand to undress.” He crept higher, rubbing a trail of circles. “Why not enjoy those hours before they fall asleep?

  “I’m good at what I do, lovely, because what I do isn’t who I am.”

  “Who are you?” I whispered.

&n
bsp; “I’m with people at their most vulnerable. Walls down. Defenses offline. It’s what makes me perfect.”

  “Perfect what?”

  Mercer encircled my throat. “Assassin.”

  My throat bobbed against his fingers. “That’s what you do as a leader of the Merchants. Kill your dates.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Not all of them, of course.” He laughed, resuming my massage. “Something like that would get around. What I do—what I will do with Dax Palmer—is collect information. You call Cash the man who knows everything, but he wouldn’t know half as much without me. The intel. The plans. Getting in and out minus guns, bombs, fists, and wine bottles. That’s where my people skills come in.”

  “It’s you who does the recon,” I said as it clicked into place. “Bryan Acker. If his flavor wasn’t auburn-haired mommy clones, you would’ve gone in for the information.”

  “Absolutely,” he said easily. “That’s a play I’ve run on half a dozen marks, and I have no doubt there will be more. And there’s your answer, love. I can’t be a Merchant and be with you.”

  “You don’t have to sleep with your marks,” I tried.

  “I’m effective because I sleep with them, Adeline. I’ve built a reputation that has the who’s who of Leighbridge calling my number. They let me in where other strangers can’t go because I drop my pants. Some like to joke escorts double as therapists, but if I actually tried charging for just a chat and a cuddle, my dates would lose my number.

  “Picture how simple it is to pop their finger on their phone and laptop readers while they’re snoring away. To crack safes when I have all night and them drugged and passed out in the other room. The best part, my tracks are covered for me. All trace of my presence is wiped. If ever questioned, they’d swear on their lives they didn’t have sexual relations with that man. And for those I kill.” He hummed. “There’s almost no sport in it. It’s just too easy.”

  Mercer lay on top of me, burrowing me into the mattress. “Have I shocked you?”

  My head shook under him. “Were you looking for a reaction to rival the first bomb you dropped?”

  “Possibly,” he said, laughing.

  “I’m not shocked, Mercer. I knew whatever you did as a Merchant, it wasn’t party all night and pile up stacks of money. Saint said you were invaluable, and now I see why. He’s the leader. Cash is the brains. Brutal is the muscle,” I said. “And you’re the shadow.”