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

by Logan Fox

  But fuck. You start going down that rabbit hole, and you end up as knotted as a pair of horny dogs.

  “We do this now, or we don’t,” I say, glancing at Apollo. “The longer we stand out here, the—”

  “You’re right,” Rube says.

  And thank fuck for that, because I was close to smacking him upside the head. I start forward, but his voice stops me. “Get back in the car. We’ll circle the block. Maybe we get in the back way, or through a window.”

  I turn to him and stare him down. He’s about the same height as me, but I know I’ll be the first to kiss dirt in a fight.

  But that doesn’t matter.

  Because he’s wrong. We can’t wait anymore.

  She’s in there, and she’s in danger. Fuck, Trinity being within a foot of Gabriel is more than I can stand thinking about. Even if she is his daughter, I know a perverted prick like him wouldn’t think twice about sticking it in her.

  They’ve been alone so long already, I’m sure he’s done it a couple of times.

  Usually I can control myself. I don’t get angry, I get snarky.

  But this? The thought that right now he could be—?

  “Fuck this,” I snarl.

  “Cass. Please.”

  I stop, but only because it’s Apollo and the poor guy honestly wants to help. It kinda sucks that he’s always so nice about it. Always seeing every side of the argument. He should have been born a few years earlier where he could have run free with his hippie friends, protesting the Vietnam war and getting fucked on acid all the time.

  “Just…wait. Would you?”

  So I wait.

  I wait for hours, days. A fucking eternity.

  I wait while Reuben and Apollo start discussing what they’d do if they couldn’t find an open window. Should they break it, hope no one hears?

  Oh wait, Rube thinks he saw someone. What’s that? Another person walking down a street in Suburbia? The fucking horror. But no, he was mistaken, it was just some old lady pruning her rose bush.

  And then I wait some more, because now they’ve moved onto conflict resolution. What if Gabriel has a gun? Nah, Rube doesn’t think so. Not all bad guys have guns or some shit. But Apollo’s not sure. Now he’s Mr. Fucking Careful.

  I can’t.

  I can’t take it.

  This waiting. This supposing and assuming and fuck ton of maybes. Not while Gabriel’s doing God only knows what to my blasphemous little slut.

  This time I don’t warn them. I just turn and walk away.

  Apollo makes to grab me, but I dodge him. And then I storm the fucking castle gates like I have an army at my back.

  Because I do.

  They’ll come. Rube and Apollo will be right behind me.

  And we’re going to rip Gabriel a new asshole. And then shove foreign objects up it until he bleeds. And then give him a blood transfusion so he can cling to life…only to suffocate him with a pillow made from his own skin.

  Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it. A lot.

  Maybe I’m not that calm after all.

  But fuck me, I’m good at hiding it.

  I stalk up to the door, and I lift a hand to try the handle.

  A grin tugs at my mouth when it turns and the door swings open.

  But that smile dissolves a second later when I see Trinity standing in front of me. Wide-eyed, face bruised, clothes rumpled, hair disheveled, mouth peeling open like she’s about to scream.

  And that’s all I see.

  Just her.

  Because fucked up as she is, ruined as she is, she’s so fucking beautiful I can’t believe I’ve been without her for so long.

  My drug?

  Fuck that shit.

  She’s the blood in my veins. She’s what makes my heart pump, and my organs work, and my skin glow.

  And she’s right in front of me. Like a prayer God answered without me having to even get on my knees and utter a single word.

  I’m swelling. Bursting with happiness.

  Fuck that—with joy.

  And here I thought that was only possible when I was high.

  We found her.

  She’s ours.

  The world is suddenly a better place. A place I might decide to live in a little longer than I’d planned.

  But then Trinity’s gone.

  Someone’s tackling me from the side.

  And I realize it was all a trick.

  Gabriel used her as bait.

  And I fell for it.

  My shoulder hits the ground first, and then the rest of my body, the force of the impact driving the air from my lungs and spittle from my lips.

  Ha, literally.

  So excuse the pun.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Trinity

  4201. Beep.

  4202. Beep.

  4203. Beep.

  I blink sweat out of my eyes and take a second to work my neck with my good hand. I don’t know what’s worse—hoping that I’ll hit the right combination before Gabriel comes back, or wondering if I even have the first two numbers correct to begin with.

  Nope! Can’t think about that. Negativity need not apply.

  4204. Beep.

  4205. Beep.

  Thump.

  I freeze. If my heart wasn’t pounding so hard in my chest, I might have been able to make out if that sound had been my imagination or not.

  Thump.

  No. It’s not. Gabriel is back.

  4206. Beep.

  4207. Beep.

  4208. BEEP.

  My hand cramps up. Not from pressing numbers, but I’m guessing from the ropes and from the tugging. My left hand aches relentlessly at my side, but I ignore it as much as I can.

  4209. Beep.

  Thump.

  Oh Lord, he’s coming.

  4210. Beep.

  My heart’s in my fucking throat. Every time I try to swallow, it bobs around like an ice cube in a glass of lemonade.

  Fuck, why the hell did I have to think about that when I’m so thirsty?

  Thump.

  My hand shakes so much, I can barely punch the right numbers.

  4221 Beep.

  Damn it! I have to remember I’ve already tried that one.

  Thump, thump, thump.

  He’s right beside me. Which room is that? I’m trying to picture the layout of my own house, but I can’t.

  4211.

  Click.

  Is it the dining room? The living room?

  42—

  Wait.

  I focus on the light above the panel. It’s flashing green now. Was it doing that before? Why do I remember it being solid red?

  I grab the handle, and open the door.

  It swings inward and bathes me in gray light. As I step outside and turn into the hallway, I figure out what room he’s in.

  Dad’s study.

  The room right above the portion of the basement I was just in.

  No wonder I never heard anything. Dad kept that door locked.

  I’m a fucking idiot. I thought my Dad was a God-fearing man with a fully functioning moral compass.

  How could I have been so wrong?

  The thought makes me nauseous, so I hurriedly stop trying to figure anything out. Instead, I focus on creeping down the hall as quietly as possible.

  Quietly…but quickly.

  The hall takes a turn and reveals the front door. It’s only about two yards away. My heart kicks into overdrive again, and then I’m running.

  It’s fucking idiotic, but I can’t help it. I can’t stop. It’s too close, and I’m too scared.

  So I run.

  And then I slam into the wood as I’m fumbling for the lock. It turns, the tumblers clicking loudly as they slide back into the door.

  I twist the handle. Step back so the door can open.

  Behind me, someone starts running.

  Thud, thud, thud, thud, THUD!

  The door is open.

  But I can’t go through because someone’s standi
ng there.

  Cass is standing there.

  What the hell is Cass doing here?

  He opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something. But he never gets the chance. Someone crashes into him, sends him tumbling over the rose bushes lining the front drive.

  Cass becomes Zach. Tall, grim, panting.

  A second of frozen time. Then I surge forward, delirious with thoughts of escape. Hardly believing my luck.

  He’ll save me.

  Wrap me in his arms.

  Hold me tight.

  But none of that happens. He doesn’t drag me out of harm’s way.

  Zach surges forward, and then shoves me. Hard.

  I crash into the door. My scream is little more than a choked gasp of pain as my injured hand is trapped between my body and the door.

  Zach pushes past me. My head slams against the wood. Sparks flash and pop in front of me as I sink to the ground.

  And then he’s gone.

  My conscious mind drifts, losing track in a deluge of pain and confusion.

  There’s a loud clap in the living room, like a car backfiring. There was a young couple down the road who lived here a few years back. Their car would do that sometimes. Always scared the shit out of me.

  Grunts and roars from the living room. Then another clap, this one louder than before.

  Then legs swarm past me. I tip my head back despite the pain.

  Reuben. Cass. Apollo.

  They all look down at me, but only as they pass. Then they move on, deeper into my house.

  It’s weird having them here.

  Weird being back.

  I should show them around. But I have to clean my room first. What’ll they think of the basement? Maybe I shouldn’t show them that. They wouldn’t like it.

  I’ll show them the picture of the unicorn. It’ll make them laugh.

  Awsum.

  “Hey, pretty thang.”

  I force my eyes open, catch sight of Apollo’s face. He’s pale, eyes jittery. “Everything’s just fine, hear me? You’re safe now.”

  And I believed him.

  Lord, I believed him.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Zach

  Christ, where are my brothers going in such a hurry? I’m too far away to see who’s driving—all I know is that Reuben was inside the Redford Missions of Love church for a few minutes, and then came out empty-handed but with a speed to his steps I haven’t seen in a while. Not full out running—I guess he didn’t want to draw unwanted attention, but it was obvious he was on the move.

  When they slam on the gas and throw the car into a U-turn, I almost think it’s because they spotted me.

  But I doubt it.

  It seems they have other things on their mind.

  I give them a lead before following.

  We drive for a few minutes, headed downtown. Our route takes us past a mall, and then almost back the way we came before heading downtown again.

  Are they being paranoid? Retracing their steps?

  Or are they struggling to find their way in a strange town? Ha, if Apollo’s the one navigating, then we’re all in for a few more U-turns.

  Eventually, we venture into the suburbs. Perfect little houses on their perfect little lawns. Two and three bedrooms, mostly. Some double stories here and there.

  Where are we headed, boys? I can’t for a second believe Gabriel would live in a place like this.

  Trinity.

  I start looking around a little harder. Driving a little slower.

  Is this her old neighborhood? There was no address on the intake form at Saint Amos. I guess, by then, she was officially a ward of the state.

  Or someone had fucked with her records.

  My brothers turn down a side street. I park on the sidewalk, tracking them on my phone’s app, because I have a feeling this is their last turn.

  Seconds later they stop.

  Then I’m out of the car and jogging down the opposite side of the road. Thank God I had the foresight to pack a hoody. I keep the hood pulled up as I jog. Paired with sunglasses, I’m hoping I’d look like another guy out on a jog, but I know it’ll only take one longer-than-normal glance in my direction for my brothers to recognize me.

  The people around here like their trees and shrubs. And not so much fences between properties. As long as no one looks out their window and spots me jogging over their freshly manicured lawn, I should be good.

  My brothers’ silver car is parked a few drives down, opposite side of the road. I slow down, slip behind a bushy shrub, and stretch like I’ve got a cramp. But all the while peeking at them through a gap in the foliage.

  A minute later they get out of the car. Reuben first, his head turning all directions as if he’s scouting for danger.

  Then Cass.

  Then Apollo.

  But they just stand there, talking. Watching.

  I peer down my side of the road. There are a few trees and shrubs I could use as cover, but I have no idea which house they’re targeting. I could end up jogging right into their line of sight.

  Reuben turns and looks straight at me.

  I throw myself back, stumble over a fucking garden gnome, and land flat on my ass.

  As I’m about to get up, I hear a door open behind me. I look back as an old lady walks out onto her porch. She scans her lawn, and despite her thick glasses—or perhaps because of them—sees me.

  Shit.

  I get up, trying not to bolt, and then stop when I feel a tug on my pants leg.

  Christ, I’ve gotten my jeans hooked in a thorn.

  The old lady’s garden isn’t quite as well kept as the others around here. Her roses, for instance, are the kind you’d expect growing wild around a mansion where neighborhood kids dare each other to knock on the door.

  I yank at my pants, and that shakes the entire row of fucking roses.

  If Reuben is still looking this way, it would look mighty suspicious.

  So I fall into a crouch and do my best to unhook my jeans without rustling as much as a single leaf.

  “Everything all right, dearie?” a thin, wobbly voice wants to know.

  I glance up into a pair of watery blue eyes, and give the old woman the most charming smile I have. “Got a little stuck on your roses,” I tell her through my teeth.

  “They are magnificent, aren’t they?” she wheezes, clasping her hands at her breast as if she’s offering up a prayer to God for her killer botanicals.

  Another subtle yank, and finally my jeans are free. But I don’t stand yet, because that would put my head and shoulders above the rose bush. I don’t want to reveal myself until I know what the hell they’re up to. And the last thing they need is a distraction.

  I glance around. I could head back the way I came, but Mrs. Nosy’s yard is wide open but for this thorny hedge.

  “Are you with the church?” Mrs. Nosy wants to know.

  I stare up at her with a frown. Dressed in a hoody? In what world could I possibly—

  But then her eyes move down my chest, fix on something there a second, and fly back to my eyes. Her smile brightens a little.

  I look down too, to see what she finds so fascinating.

  Trinity’s crucifix. Blood red against my gray hoody. Impossible to miss. It must have come out while I was jogging, or when I landed on my ass beside her roses.

  Mrs. Nosy beckons me with a frail hand. “Why don’t you come inside, dear? I’ll fix you a glass of lemonade.”

  I feel like I’ve stepped through a portal back to the eighties where old ladies go around offering cold beverages to any sweaty teen that happens to come within yelling distance of their whitewashed porches.

  But my options are limited. If I break cover, my brothers could see me. If I go inside with the nice lady and let her pour me a drink, I could wait them out. Keep track of them on my phone. Fuck, I might even give them a call and see if they pick up.

  Don’t know what I’d even say if they did, but I’d think of something.


  The old woman’s name is Langley, and she’s a Mizzz because her husband died a long time ago.

  I’m starting to think she had ulterior motives for the lemonade, especially when she puts down a plate of cookies too. I ignore them—I haven’t touched refined sugar for many years. I don’t plan on falling off that wagon any time soon, so I only take imaginary sips from the glass of lemonade.

  “Are you one of the new missionary boys they told us about on Sunday?” Miss Langley asks.

  I would have choked on my cold drink if I’d actually been drinking it. “Missionary boy?”

  “For the mission to Ghana.” Langley beams, which happens anytime she mentions the church.

  Now I’m convinced this is Trinity’s old haunt. It could just be this one biddy, but I have a feeling everyone around here is really serious about finding Jesus.

  A priest like Gabriel really brings that out in a person.

  I figure I don’t have much to lose except having the cookies withdrawn—God willing—so I say, “Ghana.” I look introspective. “God willing, Miss Langley, we’ll be changing hundreds of lives in that village.”

  She clasps her hands again, her lips trembling. “Oh, you must be so excited.”

  “I am.” I shift in my seat, nod my head a little. “But if it wasn’t for Father Gabriel, I wouldn’t even be here.”

  “Father…” Langley sags in her chair. “I miss him so much. He was such a good influence on you young ones.”

  Fuck, if she only knew. But I nod along, try and look as Catholic as possible, and even go as far as to toy with Trinity’s crucifix.

  “Actually, I’ve never met him.”

  Langley’s eyes widen behind her thick glasses. “You haven’t?”

  “No. It was Trinity.” I pick up a cookie, break off a piece. “She told me all about Father Gabriel.”

  “Trinity!” Langley lets out a long sigh as she sinks back in her chair. “How is she, the little lamb?”

  “Oh, she’s doing wonderfully.”

  “I’m so glad.” Langley shakes her head as she looks out the kitchen window with its lacy curtains. “I was so upset to hear what happened. And right here, so close to home.”

  “The accident happened here?”