The Sinners of Saint Amos: The Full 3-book Boxset

by Logan Fox

  He takes another long drag at his cigarette. Although he ducks his head to blow out the smoke, it piles up between us and still hits my nose. “Why did you go through my things?”

  My eyes widen. “I didn’t. I promise.”

  He looks to the side, drawing my gaze with his.

  The bag I’d shoved under the bed is on top of the mattress, contents spilled out. The laptop is open. Even from here, I can see the email program is open.

  It didn’t shut down properly.

  He knows I read the email.

  But is that all he knows?

  “I’m so sorry.” I press my hands to my face, trying to hide behind my fingers.

  “Shh,” he murmurs.

  An arm slides around my shoulder and draws me close.

  I shudder against him, my hands still covering my face. “I’m sorry.”

  “I understand. I left before I could answer your questions.”

  He strokes my head and for some reason that’s all it takes for me to surrender. That, and the half a bottle of wine I’d guzzled before he got back.

  For a ridiculously sweet moment, nothing has changed. I’m sixteen, and I’ve just admitted that I don’t believe in God. At least, not in the same way my parents do. And Gabriel’s holding me, just like this, letting me sob into his shoulder.

  But the moment is only that—a single moment. Fragile as a wine glass. And it shatters as soon as he speaks.

  “I would ask you not to judge me, but—” his lips quirk into a smile that’s warm, but so fucking sad. “You’re a better person than I am, so you would have every right.”

  I lean back from him, my fingers sliding down my face. He cups my face with one hand, the other at his side, a half-finished cigarette dangling from his fingers. His touch causes my legs to lose their strength. I throw my arms over Gabriel’s shoulders, holding onto him to keep myself upright.

  “I drank too much,” I tell him.

  “I know, but this can’t wait anymore. If you don’t remember in the morning, then I’ll tell you again. I’ll keep telling you, until you find it in your heart to make sense of it.”

  His words are starting to run together.

  Shit! He’s about to lay some heavy fucking shit on me, but what. If. I. Don’t. Remember?

  “Tell me.” I grab the front of his shirt, tugging at him. “Tell me what you did.”

  Tell me about Zachary. About Reuben. Apollo.

  Tell me what the fuck you did to Cass.

  Tell me everything, you sick, perverted—

  “Trinity. Child. Look at me.” He uses his hand to lift my head. Then he grips my chin and squeezes. The brief pressure brings me back from lolling off into a violent booze-induced daydream where he’s crucified at the stake like Jesus, and the Brotherhood are the ones piercing him with spears.

  “I had an affair with your father.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Trinity

  I’m on hands and knees. Technically, elbows and knees. I’d staggered out of Gabriel’s room what feels like centuries ago, despite him begging me to stay and talk. I might have told him I was too drunk, too pissed off, too over his shit to stay.

  I dunno. I just hope I didn’t swear too much. Feels wrong, swearing at a priest.

  That’s not important. This is important. I hold up the drive and study it with narrowed eyes. Have to give this back.

  But it doesn’t fit under the door.

  My plan failed because this stupid thing is too big.

  I slit my eyes and concentrate on wedging the slim drive beneath the door.

  “What are you doing?”

  I look up and then sit back on my haunches in front of Reuben like a puppy begging for treats. How’d he know I’d be here? Coincidence…or had he been following me?

  I hold up the drive. “Givin’ this back.”

  Reuben watches me for a second and then reaches past me to unlock his door. Grabbing my elbow, he hauls me up and drags me inside his room. The door closes silently behind us.

  I open up my hand, the drive on my palm. “Here.”

  Reuben barely touches me when he picks it up, and then immediately walks away. “What, no thank you?” I call after him.

  I frown and glance around his apartment as he disappears into his bedroom with the drive.

  I start nosing around again, but there’s not much to see. The single drawer by the coffee station has instant coffee sachets and spoons in it. The microwave is empty. There’s a cell phone charging next to the kettle, but when I try and turn it on, it asks for a pin. I try a few random numbers before a massive hand reaches around me, removes the phone from my fingers, and then wraps over my hand.

  “You’ve been drinking,” Reuben says.

  “And?”

  I flex my fingers inside his fist, marveling at how big it is. He could crush my hand without putting any real effort into it.

  I hope he doesn’t. I like my hand.

  “Why would you get drunk around him? Or have you forgotten how dangerous he is?”

  I laugh and arch into Reuben. “Hold me,” I say, and then try to maneuver his other arm around my waist. But it’s too heavy and unwieldy, especially since he’s not helping.

  “Tell me what happened.”

  “We spoke. He left.” I hold up a finger and glance at Reuben over my shoulder. “That was you guys, right? You did something? He shot right the fuck out of there. I had more than enough time to copy everything.”

  I have no idea if that’s the truth, but I’m not sure how long Reuben will let me hang around if he thinks I’m a failure. He might even send me back to Gabriel.

  I flinch at the thought.

  Never. I will never go back there. Never speak to him again.

  He had an affair with my father.

  “You’re shaking.”

  “It’s cold,” I say, and try to make myself stop. Then I turn around, ending up facing him with his arm around my waist, still holding my hand. “But you can keep me warm.”

  His eyes drop to my mouth, then my throat, then my breasts. Every place they pause, the skin there begins to pulse.

  “You can’t be here,” he says, releasing me and stepping back.

  I should leave. I know that. But I don’t want to be alone right now. Being alone would mean I’d have to replay all the shit that just happened, and in my current state, I don’t know what to do with that information.

  Then again, would I really be better off here? I feel safe around Reuben, but what if Cass or Zachary stop by? I already know I can barely fend off one of them…if they were to gang up on me—

  “You’re right,” I blurt out, pushing my curls out of my face as a wave of cold tingles washes over me.

  This is the last place I should be.

  There’s no safe place in Saint Amos anymore.

  Maybe there never was.

  I have to get out.

  Reuben turns to watch me when I walk past him. “Do you want to know what’s on the drive?”

  I pause mid-step and peer at him over my shoulder. “You—?” I point to his bedroom. “You found something?”

  He shakes his head. “We’ll only know tomorrow. But do you want to know what we find, if we find something?”

  It feels like a loaded question, and something I’m definitely not equipped to answer right now. So I err on the side of caution.

  “Sure. I mean, of course.” I nod and head back to the door.

  I open it.

  A hand slams down beside my head, closing it again. My spine stiffens like someone rammed a pole through my body. “What…what are you doing?”

  Suddenly I don’t feel that drunk anymore. Maybe it’s the adrenaline surging through me.

  “I didn’t know you liked Cass,” Reuben says.

  “I…”

  I don’t.

  For some reason, I can’t say it.

  But I don’t!

  Still, you enjoy what he does to you. The way it makes you feel. You’v
e always loved the idea of being a sinner, haven’t you?

  “I’m not upset,” he says in the same monotone as before.

  Always so calm, so centered. Makes me wonder what it’s like when he loses control.

  Like you did with Cass.

  Shut up!

  “I should go,” I say again. “Probably can’t have anyone see me here.”

  “Do you still like me?”

  “Yes.”

  Fuck. Fuck!

  I shiver when Reuben touches the side of my neck, but it’s just to draw a curl away from my ear.

  “So you can like more than one guy at a time?”

  No.

  Yes.

  Maybe?

  Trick question! I only like Reuben.

  Don’t I?

  What about Zach?

  Fuck.

  Well? What about him?

  “Do I have to?” I murmur, trying to find an easy way out.

  “Yes.” Reuben’s fingers trail down and then caress the ridge of my collarbones. That light touch sends a shiver through me.

  “Why?”

  “We’re too close. Have been for so long.”

  “If you really thought that, then you wouldn’t have kissed me.”

  He turns me around and gently grasps my chin. “Kisses mean nothing.” There’s a strange hitch in his voice that belies the words. Because he does like me, or because someone told him that a long time ago and he still believes it? “I like kissing girls.”

  My eyes widen. “Oh,” I murmur, heat slowly crawling up my face.

  Can I be more embarrassed? I thought Reuben genuinely liked me. But if it’s just something he gets a kick from…?

  Fuck it—he does like me.

  I’ll prove it.

  “Then kiss me,” I say. “Kiss me and tell me it doesn’t mean anything.”

  He cocks his head a little to the side, as if intrigued by my suggestion. Then he ducks, scoops me into his arms, and presses me against the door. Just like last time, my legs wrap around him like I’ve done this a thousand times before.

  Blasphemous little slut.

  I’m suddenly too aware of how close my core is to his body. Pressed to his stomach just above his belt, I can only imagine what it would feel like if he was to lift my skirt so the rough fabric of his jeans could rub against me.

  Damn it, I am a slut. Is this because Cass got me so hot and bothered earlier? Or is it because when I feel like this, I can’t think about other things? Horrible, confusing things.

  Maybe a little of both.

  “Are you sure?” he asks.

  “That I want you to kiss me?” I frown at him. “Yes.”

  “I mean, are you sure you want to test me?”

  My frown deepens.

  He shifts his grip, pressing me harder against the door. Even through my skirt, that friction is enough to send a host of urgent signals through my body.

  Now every part of me is paying attention—from my lips to my nipples, to my center, to my fucking toes.

  “You shouldn’t treat this like a game, Trinity.” Reuben’s black eyes harden with the same intense determination he’d worn the day we met. He traces the outline of one of my buttons and then starts popping them open.

  “You’re supposed to be kissing me,” I whisper.

  “I am,” he agrees calmly. “But you never said where.”

  Good God, now I’m picturing him kissing my breasts, drawing my nipples into his mouth and teasing each tight bud with his teeth. I start trembling internally. When I grab onto his shoulders, he pauses in his methodical work, his fingers in line with my nipples.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” I say breathlessly.

  He lets out a soft, “Hmm,” as if he’s not one-hundred percent satisfied with my answer.

  God, this is torture. I’m tempted to ask him to hurry the fuck up.

  The last button pops open. He slides a hand behind my bodice and parts the two halves of my dress.

  But not all the way. Just enough so that I can see the edge of my bra when I glance down.

  Then he shifts his grip and holds onto me with one arm—one arm?—while he hunts around in his pocket for something. What is he looking for, a condom?

  I know where to find some.

  Did Gabriel sleep with my Dad? Well, he’d have to, probably, to consider it an affair.

  Dear Lord, I can’t handle this shit.

  I lean forward, my eyes fluttering closed, fully intending to kiss Reuben just to put an end to the sour thoughts filling my head.

  But he moves his head aside so I end up kissing his fucking ear.

  I huff impatiently and press the back of my head against the door, glaring up at him as he carries on rifling through his pocket.

  I cross my arms over my chest, moving my mouth to the side. “What are you looking for?”

  “This.”

  He lifts a red rosary. My hands fly to my chest, but I touch bare skin. “How did you—?”

  “You left it here.”

  My mind scurries back to the shower I took earlier today. “No I didn’t.”

  He says nothing.

  “I must have put it back on.”

  Still nothing.

  “I put it on top of my clothes. It would have been the first thing I saw.”

  He quirks an eyebrow at me.

  “It must have fallen off.” I keep brushing my skin and then hold out my hand, palm up. “Whatever. Give it back.”

  His fingers close over the red beads. “It’s mine.”

  “You gave it to me.”

  “But you don’t believe. What’s the point?”

  My heart stutters at that. His commanding stare forces me to drop my gaze. What the fuck am I supposed to say to that?

  The smell of roses hits my nose. He’s rubbing the crucifix with his thumb, intensifying the scent.

  I bite down on my lip. I’m such a jerk. It obviously means a lot to him, and I’m demanding him to give it back.

  He tenses when I lay my hand over his. I slowly close his fingers over the necklace.

  “You’re right. There’s no point. It’s yours, anyway.”

  But then, as I’m holding him, staring into those pitch-black eyes, a wriggling worm of doubt starts working its way through my mind.

  “Wait…” I turn my head, watching him warily from the corner of my eye. “I know I put it on my clothes. It…it wasn’t there when I got out.”

  He watches me with the patience of a rock.

  My eyes go wide. “You took it.”

  There’s the tiniest flicker in his eyes.

  “Oh my God!” I slap a hand into his chest and begin squirming against him so he’ll let me go. “You were watching us!”

  He lets out a soft grunt, grabs my ass, and slams me back into the door hard enough to rattle it.

  Shock dips me in ice.

  My hands are on his chest, fingers digging into his muscles, but I slowly retract them and hug myself instead.

  He lets out a long breath through his nose and then slowly scans my face like he’s looking for something.

  I don’t know if he finds it, but a moment later he slips his rosary over my head and tucks it behind the open halves of my dress. Then he slowly starts buttoning me up again.

  “Why?” The word warbles out before I can stop it.

  “Why did I watch, or why didn’t I stop him?”

  “Both!” The anger’s coming back, but I force myself to swallow it down.

  “I watched because I like you. Because you were enjoying it. Because I wanted to see what you look like when you come.”

  I should be flooded with horror or disgust. Instead, I stare at Reuben with morbid fascination.

  I thought it was him. That’s the only reason I allowed—

  “And I didn’t stop him, because I was pretending it was me in there, not him.”

  His words spear into through me like a blunt knife.

  “What?” I belt out, thum
ping his chest with my fist. “That makes no sense!”

  He grumbles faintly as he steps back and lets me slip to the floor. I’m breathing so hard you’d swear I ran a fucking marathon. “That makes no fucking sense, Reuben!” I yell, bashing my other fist into him.

  He catches my wrist before I can get off another blow and then closes his arms over me, crushing me to his massive chest. I let out a strangled yell, but fighting him is pointless.

  “Can I kiss you now?” he asks.

  That knife twists, scraping over my bones and shredding my heart. It takes every ounce of self-control I still have, but I manage a hoarse, “No. Never.” I clear my throat and force strength into my words. “Never, ever again.”

  Then I shove at him with all my might.

  And he lets me go.

  I don’t look back when I leave, but I manage not to slam the door. I take two steps before the smell of his rosary hits my nose again.

  I leave it hanging from his door handle, blinking back tears as I stalk back to my room.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Zach

  My heart almost explodes from my chest when I spot Cass sitting on the couch. I wasn’t sure if he’d be here. A part of me wishes he wasn’t. A part of me can’t be more relieved to see him.

  Cass looks up from the latest edition of Pussy Pounder as I slip into our lair through the narrow opening in the bookshelves. I can’t wait for the day we’ll have a space of our own with a proper fucking door. No, fuck that. No doors. Just an archway.

  I know exactly where we’ll go when this shit’s taken care of.

  Whenever I go into town on the weekends, I spend an hour or so at the local coffee shop. Their filter coffee tastes like the shit you scrape out of a gutter, but that’s not why I go there.

  Their Wi-Fi, although spotty, opens up a new world. For an hour, I can escape this shitty school and the decades-long path my brothers and I have been trekking.

  For those few precious minutes, I go house hunting. It started as a mental itch I had. We have a game we play. Can’t remember the last time we did, but since our answers are always the same, I have that shit committed to memory.

  It’s called: what would you do, if you could do anything?

  Not highly original, but for a bunch of kids trapped in a dark basement who’d never played sports or gone to the mall or even asked out a girl to the prom…it filled a void.