Wicked Saint: Sinners and Saints Book 1

by Eden, Veronica

  “That’s not how it used to be. You used to care a lot about your friends’ opinions. It’s not like we ran with different people, we were all together.”

  “Yeah, well…”

  That wasn’t going to happen again.

  “Now I’m a loner chick. I’m all badass and shit.” I wiggle my boots as I stick one foot up on the dash. Alec chuckles and shakes his head. “If you try to step in, not only will you ruin the great cred I’ve built up,” I point out sarcastically, winking at my brother, “it’ll cause a rift for you with your team and their friends.”

  Alec doesn’t look happy with that answer. Stubborn brat. He can’t have it both ways—either he’s pissed at me or he’s the protective brother, but I’m getting whiplash from his hot and cold act.

  “If joining in with the social scene is what you want so badly, then go for it. Don’t let me and my problems hold you back.”

  “That’s fucked up. I can’t just let you—”

  “Let me? Oh, fartbreath,” I say in a sage tone, using my favorite nickname for him, “you don’t get a say in what I do.”

  “But it’s all too close to what happened before. I don’t like the reminder.”

  “Wow.” I cover my eyes. “You’re right, I’d totally forgotten about that.”

  He grunts at my cold sarcasm.

  I snap my fingers. “That must be terrible on you. Poor you.”

  “Gemma…”

  “Save it. Noble brother isn’t really your schtick.” When Alec grumbles, I take pity on him. “I promise, I’m fine. Sticks and stones, right? It rolls right off my back. None of that crap is true, so I’m not letting the rumors get to me. If you are, well, that’s an Alec problem, not an Alec-and-Gemma problem.”

  “Fine,” he agrees as he pulls into our driveway.

  “Thanks anyway, though.”

  I reach over and ruffle his hair so it’s wild and messy before darting out of the car when he shouts my name.

  For a little while I’m able to put Lucas Saint from my mind.

  Nine

  Lucas

  “Dude, that pass was insane.” Carter makes an appreciative sound and mimes throwing a football as we walk with Devlin and Bishop down the hall. “Your arm is going pro. I’ve got good money riding on it.”

  “Just his arm?” Bishop chimes in, giving me a skeptical once over. “What about his left leg?”

  “Surely his hair can make the pro league,” Devlin agrees.

  “Shove it.” I mash my palm over Bishop’s face and give him a playful push. “Or I’ll never bring any of your sorry asses to live the high life with pro cheerleaders and bottle service.”

  Carter makes a dramatic show of crocodile tears, leaning on Bishop. The four of us are entertained by his antics.

  Up ahead, I spot Gemma’s honey-blonde hair piled into a messy bun. Headphones dangle from her ears as she crosses the hallway and my mouth quirks up in anticipation.

  I take her in from head to toe and give into the urge to capture her. I want to taste her sweet lips again and I don’t know if I can hold out any longer.

  That kiss has stuck in my head on repeat. It’s at the top of my nightly rotation when I jerk off. I don’t know if I’m intrigued because this is the first time a girl has refused to fall on my dick because I looked her way, or if I’m still high on the thrill of chipping away at her for revenge.

  Either way, Gemma has become my fucking obsession. She owns so many of my thoughts. I can feel her beneath my skin whenever she’s near.

  I meet my friends’ eyes and nod towards my conquest. Carter lights up. He’s gone hard for taking Gemma down a peg.

  Bishop and Devlin fan out, flanking my approach. People who see us are quick to scoot out of the way, parting the path to Gemma.

  Coming up behind her, I snatch her, lifting her until her toes barely graze the ground. The headphones fall out and dangle from her bag. She lets out a delicious little yelp. I want to get her alone and hear her make that sound again.

  Against her ear, I whisper, “Caught you, sweetheart.”

  Gemma bucks, but I’m stronger. I swing around to the bank of lockers and drop her with enough force that she lands hard on her feet. Before Gemma catches her balance, I turn her around and press her into the metal.

  Two blotchy pink spots color her cheeks, but she meets me with a fierce snarl that calls to the fire in my gut.

  “You dickhead,” she growls. “How many times do I have to say it until you get it through that thick skull! I don’t want to talk to you!”

  “That’s not nice,” Bishop comments.

  Devlin stands next to him, messing with his phone. “Hunter…catches…target,” he mumbles as his thumbs move across his screen. “And—posted.”

  A savage grin stretches on Bishop’s face at whatever Devlin captured of the scene unfolding.

  “What’s not nice,” Gemma grits, “is your boy here. You’re all psycho.”

  Her body jerks, aiming to slip away. I block her before she can escape. I lean in and hold her chin.

  “You liked it before. You can’t deny the way your body gets excited when I’m near.” I brush my thumb over her chin, grinning when she tamps down on a shudder. “See that. Now, these lips are just begging me to kiss them. What do you say?”

  “Wow, now you know how to ask? Thanks.” Gemma’s green eyes shoot daggers at me. “No.”

  I bend closer anyway, intent on kissing her. A small noise escapes her and she digs her fingers in my shirt. I don’t know if she expects to hold me back or drag me in.

  “Get to class!”

  My head pops up. The French teacher—an ancient crone with a beak nose—lurks by her classroom door.

  While I’m distracted, Gemma wriggles away, evading me by the skin of her teeth. I grab her upper arm before she can go far.

  “Don’t fight it, baby. You’ll be mine by homecoming.”

  Gemma shrugs me off and straightens her school blazer. “In your fucking dreams.”

  The itch to have her lingers.

  The guys snicker as she stomps off. Carter wolf whistles at her back.

  “Damn, that ass is fine.” Carter bites his lip and thrusts his hips in her direction. “I just want to hold her still and drive my cock into her tight little pussy. Think she’s a screamer? She’s gotta be, right?”

  I can’t stop the growl that rips out of me and before I know it, I have Carter by the collar against the locker where I just teased Gemma. Devlin’s hand on my shoulder pulls me back from the thick haze of jealousy crashing over me.

  Carter stares back at me with wide eyes, his palms up.

  “Chill, bro,” he says. “I’d give you first dibs.”

  My stomach clenches. Carter’s always scooped up my sloppy seconds. While other guys complain about that shit, it’s never bothered him. Hell, once Marissa dated him for a while when we were on one of her self-imposed breaks.

  It’s never gotten to me like it does right now. The thought of Carter touching Gemma, even after the other day when we cornered her in the parking lot, drives a spike of ice into my chest.

  I don’t know what’s come over me or why.

  Releasing Carter, I step back and run a hand through my hair. Devlin raises an eyebrow at me.

  “You cool, man?”

  “Yeah.” I force a chuckle. “Let’s get out of here. I feel like cutting next period.”

  Bishop whoops and slaps me on the back. “Nice. I’ve got a sweet ass joint rolled. Let’s go hit that.”

  This time my laugh feels genuine as I join my friends in mischief during the middle of school.

  Ten

  Gemma

  The computer lab is comfortable. The dimmed lights and glowing computer displays are like a second home. On the wall Ms. Huang has enlarged prints from National Geographic, abstract digital art from students, and a corner for open sharing where students and teachers can post up images from their portfolio.

  I consider the last of my image selec
tions for the ongoing project Ms. Huang assigned.

  A few other students are in the lab, though they’re trickling out. I’m usually the only one that stays a while after school to work on my project.

  Ms. Huang pauses behind me and bends over to study my choices over my shoulder.

  “You have a great photojournalistic eye, Gemma,” she compliments.

  “Thanks.”

  A smile breaks out on my face and I bite down on my lip. I listen to my gut after going back and forth between a photo of an older man on a hiking trail and a landscape, selecting the picture of the man. Ms. Huang hums approvingly.

  The older man’s fitness is on display as he’s mid-hike. I like the way the soft overcast light highlighted the craggy wrinkles on his face. There’s an air of adventurous spirit gleaming in his happy, crinkled eyes.

  “I like that one. Great moment.”

  “I don’t like to disturb the subject too much. I pretty much just observe and let the scene unfold before me until the right moment to press the shutter.” I eject my SD card from the computer and put it back in my camera. “It really works out for my people watching habit.”

  Ms. Huang chuckles at that. “Great work, Gemma. I’m looking forward to seeing your project when it’s completed.”

  She moves onto the next student working after school and I lose myself in editing my images, my personal meditative happy place.

  * * *

  By the time I leave, the sun kisses the horizon and the light is fading fast in the parking lot. I stayed longer than I meant to, but I made good progress on my photo project.

  There’s almost no cars left in the student lot. My CR-V sits by itself at the back. I’m distracted as I stroll up, going over a list of photo ideas on my phone.

  I halt in my tracks after I unlock my car.

  There’s a flat tire—wait, no, shit! All of my tires are flat!

  I drop into a crouch to skim my fingers over the deflated tires.

  “There’s no way.”

  I drag my teeth over my lip and check for slashes. The valve caps are still in place, so no one stole them. Some asshole simply unscrewed the caps and let out the air to strand me.

  I groan and scrub my face. “God, really?”

  The one thing we don’t keep in the car is an air compressor. We have a way to fix every other problem. There’s a spare tire, but that still leaves me with three flats.

  I thump my fist half-heartedly on the side of the car. Footsteps draw my attention and I bolt to my feet.

  Lucas walks by, his hair damp and curling across his forehead. He must have showered after practice. His t-shirt stretches over his shoulders and his bicep as he hitches his equipment bag higher. Every nerve ending in my body wakes up at his approach.

  I tell every single one of those stupid fuckers to shut up.

  Lucas looks my way, disinterest evident in his vacant expression as he takes in my situation.

  “Hmm, is this what it looks like when the whole school hates you?”

  Lucas tips his head to the side and flashes his teeth.

  I chew on the inside of my cheek. I won’t ask him for help. I have my phone, I can just call Alec and see if he’s done with practice, too.

  “Do you want a ride?” Lucas surprises me by offering.

  “I—”

  I clamp my mouth shut and mull it over. Does Lucas want something from me? Is it another trap?

  The breeze stirs the trees surrounding the lot, their branches creaking and groaning. I shiver and tug my jacket tighter around my shoulders.

  “Yeah, okay. Fine.”

  Lucas stares at me with narrowed eyes for a minute, then he bursts out in sharp amusement. He shakes his head and drags a hand through his damp hair, his attractive grin at odds with the way he’s laughing.

  “Too fucking bad. You had your chance.”

  I jerk my head back, though I can’t say I'm surprised he’s taking another opportunity to bully me. I cross my arms as he jogs to his car.

  Within a few minutes, he revs the Range Rover’s engine and leaves me alone in the dusk blanketing the lot. I curse him quietly.

  The overhead lights flicker on, but my car sits between two pools of light in the growing darkness.

  The security booth is empty, the guard done for the evening.

  I send a text to Alec.

  Gemma: Are you done practice yet? I’m at the car. The air’s been let out of all 4 tires. [Frown emoji] [Frown emoji]

  A few minutes later, his response has my stomach sinking.

  Alec: WTF??? That’s my car too. [Knife emoji]

  Alec: I’m hitting the weight room. I’ll catch a ride with one of the guys. You’re on your own. Better get it fixed by tomorrow.

  I squeeze the phone and groan in frustration.

  “Stupid jerkface brother,” I mumble.

  Plan B. I open the door and plop my bag on the seat. I dig through my wallet and find the roadside assistance card. After going through the automated prompts, I prop the phone between my ear and shoulder. I lean against the side of the car and debate turning it on to sit in the warmth rather than freezing my ass outside in this stupid uniform.

  The low rumble of an engine echoes in the distance, probably another athlete heading home after practice. A loud screech of tires follows, coming closer. People at this school are such stupid daredevils, but I don’t have time for some asshole’s nonsense right now. I’ve got classical holding music in my ear and I’m cold.

  The car stops behind me. Then there are hands on me and I shriek. The hands grip hard enough to bruise as I’m wrenched away from my car. My phone clatters on the ground. I do my best to struggle free, dropping my dead weight and trying to throw off my attacker.

  The psycho is strong as fuck and all I get for my trouble is a grunted curse.

  “Let me go!” I yell, hoping someone at this godforsaken hell hole of a school will hear.

  Soft fabric drops over my head—a t-shirt, maybe? Either way, it’s black and I can’t see shit. I try to calm my breathing so I don’t spiral into a panic. The heat of my air trapped in the material blindfolding me is humid.

  My attacker lifts me from the ground when I stop struggling and my fear amplifies again, skittering across my skin in distressed chills.

  When I hear a car door open, I cry, “No!”

  I can’t leave the scene! That’s always what the crime shows say. If I’m taken without my phone, there’s no trace of me to follow. I dig my nails into the muscular forearms wrapped around my waist like iron bands.

  “Jesus, Ge—!” he growls and cuts himself off, jerking me around and forcing me into the unfamiliar car.

  “Just let me go,” I plead. “The cops will find you. They always do.”

  As I keep babbling, I pat down my pockets for any clue I can drop that Alec or someone else might find and know that I’m in trouble. I come up empty and tears sting my eyes. My chest heaves with a ragged breath.

  I’m being kidnapped and no one will know how to find me.

  My assailant wrestles my hands into my lap, squeezing my wrists until the bones jolt with pain. A whimper escapes me as he tightens a loop of plastic over my wrists, binding me with a zip tie. In the struggle, my elbow catches on the center console. I turn my head from side to side, trying to squint through tears and the t-shirt covering my head for any information.

  The monster crowds into my space, dragging his fingers up my legs. I didn’t wear tights today because I ran out of clean ones. He teases his touch beneath the hem of my skirt, stroking the tops of my thighs.

  I grit my teeth, forcing out a vicious growl as I clamp my legs together, twisting my ankles around to lock my legs. This fucker has another thing coming if he thinks I’ll let him rape me so easily.

  He disappears with a muttered curse.

  My throat burns like a fire has razed it. My breath comes in harsh pants as the door slams. Am I alone?

  The car is running, the radio set to the local alt-rock st
ation. I hear the muffled thump of a car door closing before another opens behind me. I twist my head to the side to listen better. The monster dumps off a sack or something in the back seat, then he gets in and we’re on the move.

  I count in my head as I drag breaths in through my nose. Every muscle in my body is wound tight with tension. If I bide my time, I’ll have another chance to catch this guy by surprise.

  I just have to wait.

  The car isn’t in motion for long before the makeshift blindfold is whipped off. I blink at the dim boxy interior of a Jeep. It’s an older model. It’s nice, restored to perfection to look like new. We’ve left school, the hills of town rolling by the window.

  My bound hands sit in my lap, the plastic digging into my skin a little.

  Gathering my courage, I tip my head far enough to the side to face my kidnapper. Once I do, my insides go from icy cold to boiling hot fury in a matter of seconds.

  Lucas. Fucking. Saint.

  I suck in a slow inhale, the rage building in my chest. The fear I felt with his hands all over me—up my skirt, incapacitating me, tying me up—turns into a brittle wrath, cracking as it overflows from my whole body.

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, Lucas!”

  My shout makes him draw in a surprised breath, but he recovers quickly and tosses me a smug look.

  “That’s a good look on you, sweetheart.”

  “What, fucking pissed?”

  “No. Tied up. Helpless.” With one eye on the road and one on me, he leans over and hisses in my ear. “At my mercy.”

  “You kidnapped me, you psycho!”

  His pompous smirk stretches. “I’m stealing you for a joyride.”

  “My parents like me home by a certain time,” I lie.