The Saint

by Amelia Shea

  “He came to my house, Saint.” Her chest heaved. “I didn’t handle it.”

  For all the pride she felt in holding her own with Adam, it meant nothing. He came for me.

  “Yes,” Saint whispered in her ear. “You did, sweetheart.”

  She shook her head and cried into his neck. She hadn’t. He showed up at her house. She hadn’t handled shit with him.

  “This is on me, Bailey. Found out where he was, stopped in to make sure he knew to stay away, and what would happen if he didn’t. Didn’t think he’d come back again after I threatened him. This on me, sweetheart.” His voice was strained as he hugged her closer. “I’m sorry, so fucking sorry.”

  She wouldn’t allow Saint to take this on. He was only trying to keep her safe. “It’s not your fault.” She tightened her grip around his neck. His hand circled her back in a soothing motion.

  I need this to end. She could almost envision her future with Saint with the threat of Adam lingering over them. She wasn’t sure how long he’d sat with her, cuddled into his arms. It could have been minutes, hours, possibly days. Whatever the time frame, when she finally pulled away and glanced up at him, she felt a safe security wash over her.

  “Rourke and Trax are gonna stay here with you, okay? I’ll be back soon, and then I’m taking you home with me. Need you to pack some stuff for a few days, okay, sweetheart?”

  What, no? He couldn’t leave her; she needed him.

  “No, I’ll go with you.”

  He shook his head. “You can’t.” He gazed over her shoulder. “The guys are gonna be here, and nothing is gonna happen.”

  She glanced over her shoulder to see Trax and Rourke taking a protective stance in her living room.

  “But I want. No…I need you to stay with me.” She was on the verge of losing her shit. He was the only person keeping her calm right now. His hands grasped her jaw, bringing his face an inch from hers.

  “Need you to stay with Rourke and Trax.” His voice was low and gentle. He was making it clear this was not up for debate. She sniffled, and her chest shook.

  “Hey, Bails, I can get Macy or Chey over here if ya want?” She recognized Trax’s low voice from behind her. She closed her eyes. It was a sweet offer. Unfortunately, only Saint would do at the moment.

  “You want the girls to come over? Would you feel better if they were here?” Saint asked.

  She shook her head. “Feel better if you stayed.” Even through her glassy stare, she caught his tiny sad smile. He leaned in and kissed her head, resting his lips on her forehead.

  “I’ll be back soon, I promise.” He kissed her again, tugging her into his chest as his mouth glided over her ear. “Love you, sweetheart, and I’m coming back. Just need to handle this.”

  She squeezed his shoulders and hugged him into her body.

  She lingered for a minute, and he let her. Whatever he needed to do would wait until she let go. Then she did. She slid off his lap and onto the couch, tucking her feet underneath her and wrapping her arms around her waist. Saint drove his hand softly through her locks and planted a kiss on her head before getting up and walking to the kitchen.

  She heard the whispers but couldn’t make out what they were saying. The door closed, and she heard footsteps.

  “I can call Macy. She can be here in fifteen minutes?” Rourke’s voice had been softer than usual.

  She shook her head, keeping her gaze on the floor. She only wanted Saint. No other substitute would do.

  “All right, if you change your mind, I’ll get her up here for you.”

  She sniffled and glanced up through her glassy eyes. “Thanks, Rourke.”

  He nodded and drew in a breath. “It doesn’t feel like it now, Bailey, but the worst is over, I promise.”

  She nodded.

  Was it?

  ****

  The drive to the secluded site took over an hour. This would happen, but not in their backyard, and nowhere close enough to link it to Bailey. If it came down to it, he would take it all, but it wouldn’t, and he knew it. This was not the first time he’d play a part in the removal of trash however it was the first time it’d be personal, which meant he wouldn’t have hands-on. Saint ground his teeth. Him laying hands on Adam would mean going up against Kase, and even more so, Hades. It was a rule from years back; if it was personal, the brother was a mere spectator. He’d strongly enforced the rule more times than he could count. He understood, the true retribution wasn’t doing the damage; it was watching and appreciating the pain. He drew in a breath and stared out the window. Nothing but darkness stared back at him.

  “Look for a marker, orange flag. He said it’s the third on the left.” Kase slowed down the truck.

  He caught sight of the flag and jerked his chin, not uttering a word. Kase continued on the road, making a left at the barely seen driveway. It was overgrown with dense weeds. Seclusion.

  Kase veered down the path past the three bikes, and the SUV parked out front. He circled the house, parking next to the van. They emerged from the truck and were greeted by two of Hades’ brothers.

  “He’s inside,” the biker said then turned to the truck. “We got him in the basement.”

  Saint hesitated and eyed the two bikers he’d known for years. Blade and Roan. They weren’t his brothers, but there was a certain respect they granted being their Vice President’s brother and a certain fear from knowing what Saint was capable of.

  “No mistakes.”

  Blade nodded. “My word, brother.”

  Saint started toward the house with Kase following behind. He hadn’t been here before and didn’t know who the old farmhouse belonged to originally. If this was a safe house for Hades, then he was definitely the new property owner. He opened the screen door and made his way down the long hall, which opened up into the living room. Not one piece of furniture. The place had obviously been abandoned.

  “Boys,” Hades said, bringing a cigarette to his mouth for a drag. He lifted his chin to the open door leading down to the basement.

  “Everything set?” Kase asked.

  Hades blew out the smoke and his lips curled in a nasty smile. Saint was well versed in Hades and his devious mind. He lifted his brows. “Care to share?”

  Hades’ grin was menacing. “Eye for an eye.” He took another drag, shrugging his shoulders. “Then I got some fun shit planned.” Hades laughed. “Gonna make this last.”

  It was more than fair. This man maimed, scarred, and put his woman through excruciating, gut-wrenching pain, which lasted far longer than what he’d have to endure. But he would suffer.

  “Let’s go then.” Kase followed Hades, and he passed Saint. Saint grabbed his arm halting him, gaining both men’s attention.

  Saint knew how this worked. Somehow, being a mere spectator wasn’t going to work for him. “He’s mine.”

  Hades straightened his back. Saint knew his brother would have his back. Kase, on the other hand, shook his head. There was a reason behind it, and Kase wasn’t backing down. “Not the way we do things.”

  Saint growled. “Make an exception.”

  “No.”

  Saint could feel his anger rise.

  “He’s. Mine,” Saint snapped, taking a step to Kase who didn’t back away.

  Hades brothers, Blade and Roan, had fallen in behind them, yet no one uttered a word. Ghosttown East handled retribution differently. They wouldn’t understand.

  Kase ambled forward and gripped Saint’s shoulder. “The hands you touch your woman with will not be smeared with the blood of this piece of shit.” It was a hard rule, one Saint had stood by, and one Kase wasn’t willing to let him forget. “You feel me, brother?”

  Saint nodded sharply. There was a reason behind this rule. His own anger was clouding it. Kase nodded and started down the steps as Saint followed, along with Hades, Blade, and Roan.

  The dark, dank basement was exactly what he expected. He could smell the fear even before he descended. It was cliché, but it served its purpose
. Adam was seated in the center of the room with Hades’ men circled a few feet away. No escape.

  His eyes were wild with fear.

  Saint purposefully stepped slowly toward him. Sometimes the fear of the unknown was far greater than knowing one’s fate. He would suffer physically and mentally. Just as Bailey had.

  “Look.” His breaths were uneven, as though he’d just finished a marathon. Sweat beaded his forehead, dripping down the side of his face. “I’m sorry, I made a mistake, but I wasn’t gonna hurt her.”

  “You tossed her across the fucking room when we walked in,” Kase growled and darted forward. Saint stopped him. With nothing more than Saint’s arm blocking him, Kase halted.

  Saint glared back at Adam. No words.

  Hades stepped next to Saint, and his maniacal laugh barked through the room. “I’m gonna enjoy watching you suffer, motherfucker.”

  Adam jolted in his seat.

  “N-no wait…” His heavy breath echoed through the barren room. “I j-just…”

  Saint was not willing to listen to anything he said. The idea he could somehow justify seeking Bailey out and then going to her home had Saint burning with rage. He was notorious for his restraint. Adam’s words were testing his control.

  Saint stepped closer, and Adam’s eyes watched his every move. “I made myself clear. It was a warning, not a threat.” His brows embedded into a scowl. His tone was calm but lethal. “I gave you a chance. You chose not to take it.”

  “I’ll never see her again.”

  Saint lifted his chin, his harsh glare aimed at Adam. “No, you won’t.”

  Hades snorted. “In fact, you won’t be seeing anyone ever again.” The room erupted in laughter, everyone but Saint and Kase.

  “What are ya gonna do, kill me? You don’t think I got people who are gonna come looking for me? You won’t get away with this.” He shouted his threat and struggled against his restraints. His shaky tone only exposed his own doubt of what he was saying.

  Saint stalked forward. “You tell anyone where you were going tonight?”

  Adam drew in a breath and blurted. “Yes.”

  Saint smirked. “Liar.”

  “I did,” he countered. Saint could see through it.

  Saint cocked his brow. “I was going to let you live. I gave you fair warning, and you went against me.” Saint walked toward him noticing his body tremor with fear. He leaned down bringing himself eye level with Adam. “Now, you die, slowly, painfully, but ultimately, you will die.”

  Saint straightened and stepped back, turning around silently. No one spoke another word. The only sound resonating through the cool, damp basement was a whimpering whine of a man whose fate had been sealed. And he knows it. When Saint reached the stairs, Blade nodded and stepped aside, clearing the path for his mandatory exit. If given the choice, Saint would have no issue with killing Adam with his bare hands.

  Violence was never something Saint enjoyed. If the situation called for it, he acted. However, finding a resolution without violence had always been his priority. In most cases, it suited him. Not this time.

  Saint walked up the stairs and through the old living room. The floors were weathered and thin, most had planks missing. He grasped the door but didn’t halt when he heard the gut-wrenching shriek from down below. He walked outside and folded his arms, basking in the retribution from below.

  Adam’s wailing died down until it became muted. He must have passed out. Just as Bailey had when she was attacked. Saint drew in a deep breath, scanning the remote, desolate area. Without street or city lights, the area was drowning in darkness, with only the moonlight casting a soft glow.

  Saint steadied his breath, combatting his fury into even breaths. Storming back into the house wouldn’t change the outcome. Hades and Kase wouldn’t allow him to partake with Adam. Just as he wouldn’t allow it with other members in the past. Saint was forced to stand by the rule he himself set in place.

  He remained fixated on the open field in front of him when the door from behind opened. An echoing scream for help vibrated over the wood under his feet. The desperation and agony in Adam’s gurgling pleas had Saint closing his eyes. While he had no regrets seeking revenge for Bailey, he had an unexpected reaction.

  In his mind, it was a soft, sweet cry, begging for help. It was Bailey.

  “You good?” Kase asked.

  “I will be when it’s over.”

  Kase snorted. “Won’t be much longer.”

  Saint inhaled, smelling a cigarette, and turned to Kase, who was watching him.

  Kase jutted his chin. “You have second thoughts?”

  Not one.

  “I warned him to stay away from her.” Saint drew in a breath. “I gave him a fair chance to walk away. Even with all the suffering he caused her, I gave him an out. All he had to do was take it.” He paused. “He’s getting exactly what he deserves, and we’re getting a front-row view of the pain that Bailey must have gone through.” Eye for any eye, Hades said. He gritted his teeth, fighting against his natural instinct to barrel through the door, storm down the steps, and kill Adam with his bare hands.

  “It ends tonight, Saint.”

  Saint slowly shook his head. “Not for Bailey. The bastard will live forever in her past.”

  “And you’ll be her future, brother.”

  Saint would be, along with Cia and the club.

  They stood in silence. It had become eerily quiet which Saint assumed, meant Adam had passed out once again, or if they were lucky, he was dead. It wasn’t an especially long suffering but it had certainly been a painful and torturous one. Saint had always been a man of few words, unlike his best friend beside him. It was odd standing next to a silent Kase. Quiet was never good. Saint glanced to his brother.

  Kase stared back at him for a split second before smiling. He lifted his chin. “First time we met her, the town meeting. Fuck, man.” Kase shook his head with a chuckle. “Came tripping into town hall like a baby giraffe.”

  For the first time all night, Saint smiled, remembering the first time he’d laid eyes on her. Then her voice, soft and sweet. And her smile.

  “It was a fucking shit show. The whole fucking thing. Way too fucking Mayberry for us. Knew they wouldn’t warm up to us. All the plans we made would fall to hell because the town wouldn’t let themselves accept us. Not that it mattered, we were coming home, and wasn’t a damn thing anyone could do.” Kase shrugged. “Then Bailey happened. No fucking hesitation. Fucking shook our hands, brother. Friendly, welcoming, and I called bullshit on it.” Kase turned, lifting the cigarette to his mouth. “No one’s that fucking nice, right?”

  Saint snickered. He didn’t share Kase’s thoughts when he’d met Bailey. For a man like Kase, who trusted only those close to him, he could understand his skepticism. Most people they’d met seemed to deal with the club with caution. Not Bailey.

  “Took a few more meetings for me to see it. Your woman, all genuine, no agenda, good to the fucking core with a past that should have fucked her up, made her bitter as hell.” He snorted, taking a drag. “And she’s yours, Saint.”

  Yes, she is. He’d make it his life goal to make her happy and keep her past where it belonged. He eyed Kase. They’d known each other for so long, Saint was in-tune with what his friend had done. Kase created a distraction, focusing on the purpose of tonight being Bailey.

  Saint smirked. “Regret making her off-limits?”

  Kase knitted his brows and the corner of his mouth curled. “I don’t deserve a woman like Bailey.” Kase paused. “But you do, brother.”

  Kase was wrong. He did deserve a good woman. Someone who could see past his hard exterior and see the real Kase. A good man. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell him so. He never got the chance.

  The echo shot sounded through the open field, jolting the wood under his feet. One shot was all it would take. It was done. He expected to feel a weight off his shoulders. He didn’t. That would come when he had Bailey in his arms. He drew in a
deep breath, releasing it slowly.

  “Let’s go.” He started down the stairs with Kase next to his side.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  She heard the engines roll up her street. She had feigned being tired an hour ago. She knew they meant well, but she needed to be alone. Rourke had offered calling Macy several times. It was with the best intentions. The same with Trax when he suggested he call Marissa. She adamantly declined. This was her mess, and having her pregnant friend drive out to sit with her was not an option.

  She’d spent the first hour with Rourke standing silently next to the couch. She had told him he didn’t need to stand there, but he insisted. He vowed nobody would hurt her, and she believed him. Trax was equally protective, making her soup and sitting down next to her while she had a few bites. Even Gage, who sat quietly across from her, made her feel safe. Saint’s brothers, all there for me.

  Any stereotype she may have heard about rough and threatening bikers went out the door with these three. At one point she broke down, wanting to know what was happening. Trax curled her into his chest and soothed her. Well, he tried. He whispered, “Saint’s gonna make this go away, Bailey. Trust him, okay?”

  She simply nodded.

  She had eventually retreated to her room. She was given the time to think. Possibly too much. When she heard the whispers from downstairs, she sat on her bed, hugging her knees into her chest.

  Minutes later, her door creaked open, and Saint walked in. She scanned his body. She wasn’t sure what happened tonight, but she needed to know he was okay.

  He closed the door but didn’t move farther into the room. She stared at him, waiting for him to speak. He shoved his hands in his pockets and stared back at her.

  “He won’t bother you ever again, sweetheart.”

  Maybe she should have asked what he meant. Maybe she should have been concerned about Adam’s fate. She wasn’t. All that mattered was Saint was standing across the room from her, not making any effort to come closer. He was keeping his distance when all she wanted was for him to hold her.