Saint: A Dark Mafia Romance

by Aubrey Irons

  “Oh, but of course,” he bows sarcastically. “But listen, Ms. Shelter Rich-Girl Harbor, I think I might be out of silver platters upon which to serve you with-”

  “Fuck you.”

  Chapter Nine

  Connor

  She resists, but it’s less so this time when I tie her to one of the tall chairs at my kitchen counter.

  “How do you take it?”

  “Milk.”

  I glance up at her, raising a brow with a smirk on my lips. I see her scowl, and I know how badly she wants to defy me on this, and how badly she seems to want to take every opportunity to spit in my face. But I can also see how much her eyes glow at the sight of the mug of coffee.

  “Manners, princess?”

  Her lips purse. “Milk please,” she hisses.

  I grin. “Of course, your highness.”

  I pass her the mug and then check the knots at the back of the chair.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  I’ve just gotten a text from Damien that he’s downstairs.

  “Where are you going?”

  Her eyes go wide as if the prospect of me leaving her here alone is somehow weirder than me being here.

  “Out. I’ll be right back. Try not to destroy any of my lamps while I’m gone.”

  “Thanks for coming.”

  “No worries, man.” Damien scratches his chin. “I’m just glad to hear you’re okay.”

  We’re downstairs in the old truck depot in the basement of my building - the spot the Saints used to use for stolen cars way back in the day. Today, it’s where one of my oldest friends in the world and basically a third brother is bringing me groceries and a bunch of prepared foods.

  Damien Gallagher essentially became my brother when his family took my brothers and me in after Aela’s father made sure we didn’t go to the foster system. Saints take care of their own in Southie, and Mike and Colleen Gallagher took on three other kids besides their two like it wasn’t a problem at all.

  Because Southie born and raised is family, and family takes care of family.

  But, here I am keeping secrets from him, and lying. He thinks I need groceries because I’m ducking the heat from the Ukrainians last night and can’t go out. And he’s right, but it’s not the whole truth. I haven’t told him about Sierra. I haven’t mentioned the witness tied up at my kitchen counter upstairs to one of the closest friends I have.

  “You all right?”

  I shrug. “I’m fine.”

  He shakes his head. “Mr. fucking statue over here.”

  I smile, but I say nothing. Damien knows me well enough not to actually be bothered by my tendencies towards being stoic and maybe a little hard to read. I’m not Liam, who can’t stop talking to save his fucking life. Or Damien, Mr. smooth-talking charmer with the perpetual grin.

  “Everything go okay with the cleanup?”

  He nods, running a hand through his blonde hair. “Yeah, I brought Jimmy Poole and Ian Shaunessy.”

  “Good, good. They’re decent guys.”

  He grins. “Yeah, you know, shit actually does go fine when you aren’t there, pal. The world does keep spinning without you showing up to make it turn.”

  “Asshole.”

  He smiles. “We took care of it, man.”

  “No trouble with the Ukrainians?”

  He makes a face.

  “Damien.”

  “Look, there’s…” he clears his throat. “There’s some heat from this man.”

  “No shit.”

  “No I mean, word is you’ve suddenly gotten real popular at the Ukrainian bath house.”

  I give him a look and he laughs.

  “You know what I mean. Anton and his whole ‘Eastern Promises’ bathhouse mob meetings shit. Look, Aela and Liam are worried, man.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “No, Con, you’re not listening. This isn’t just the normal heat you’d get for shooting one of their guys. The guy in the tracksuit you shot? That was Anton’s fucking cousin.”

  I groan. “Fuck.”

  “Yeah. Look, Aela’s got outreach started but Anton’s a cranky fucker.”

  “I did splatter his cousin’s brains across the wall.”

  “Yeah, that is going to be a sticking point.”

  “Motherfucker,” I turn and spit. “So what the fuck do I do in the meantime?”

  “Well, you’re right, you need to stay put here.”

  I clench my jaw. “What.”

  “Yeah, you need to lay low, buddy. Stay in your place. I mean,” he glances around us at what looks to any random onlooker to be a condemned old factory.

  That onlooker wouldn’t be half wrong, to be fair.

  “We don’t think Anton and his crew know you’re here, but let’s keep it that way. Look, we’ve all got your back here. Liam’s got guys keeping tabs from a distance, but we’re going to keep that distance so we don’t lead anyone to you. Oleg saw you that night, man, and he’s making it his business to find you.”

  He also saw Sierra.

  I keep that part to myself, but the thought sticks. What the fuck am I going to do with her? Keep her tied to my fucking bed for the next forever? Letting her go is a no-go, for one, because she saw me, and as cute as she is, that’s a huge fucking risk. She could go to the cops the second I let her go and bring them to my goddamn door.

  And there’s a secondary factor now. There’s the fact that the Ukrainians saw her last night, and now even if Damien and Liam and Aela don’t know yet, there’s gotta be a price on her head as well.

  “Anyways,” Damien sighs, breaking my thoughts. He steps around to the back of his car and pops the trunk, reaching in and lifting out bags of groceries and takeout food and handing them to me.

  “You need a hand to bring this up?”

  “Nope.”

  He cocks a brow. “You sure? Dude, I can-”

  “Yep, I’m good.”

  He grins. “You scared I’m going to make you play me in pool again and kick your ass?”

  “Simmer down, Gallagher.”

  Damien laughs but then sobers. “Hey, call me if you need anything man. Seriously. You see anything fucking weird, don’t be you.”

  “Which means…”

  “It means actually call someone and get help instead of trying to take on the world yourself. Stay vigilant, brother.”

  He shakes his head and turns when his eyes dart to my Charger parked a few feet away.

  “Shit, man, what the fuck happened to your baby?”

  My eyes follow his, and I instantly know what he’s talking about. It’s a dent, on the back of the painstakingly restored vintage car, next to the trunk.

  I know it’s from a size eight woman’s boot, but I just shake my head. “Oh, yeah, some fucker clipped me the other night in a parking lot.”

  Damien scowls. “Too bad you didn’t catch whoever did it.”

  I clear my throat. “Yeah, too bad. Thanks for the food, bud.”

  It’s not until I’m back in my elevator that I let the breath out, feeling my thoughts start to spark through my brain.

  Great, I’ve got a girl tied up in my apartment, I’m lying to my family about it, and now there’s a hit out on both of us, courtesy of the Ukrainian mob.

  Happy fucking Saturday.

  Chapter Ten

  Sierra

  My heart skips at the sound of the freight elevator cranking back up, and when it stops, and the doors open with a loud clang, I feel my breath catch.

  He’s less frightening in the daylight, I’ll say that. Or maybe it’s that I’m no longer wasted drunk, or the fact that he’s carrying three bags of groceries.

  Maybe it’s that he doesn’t have a gun to my head now.

  He strides casually across the loft space, ignoring me as he steps into the kitchen area and sets the bags on the counter across from me. He pulls out an apple and starts munching on it.

  My stomach gurgles, and he looks up.

  “If you’re a ve
gan-gluten-free-paleo-whatever, you’re going to have a bad time,” he says evenly as he pulls out a package of hamburger meat and drops it on the counter.

  “I’m not,” I mumble as he puts his elbows on the counter and leans towards me.

  “We going to behave?”

  I glare at him, saying nothing as I sip my coffee with the one free hand I have.. He takes another bite of his apple and my stomach gurgles again.

  He smirks. “Hunger is a powerful motivator isn’t it.”

  He walks around behind me, and I shiver when I feel his hands on my skin as he undoes the binds to my other arm. He gives me a long look as if weighing the possibility of me running again before he steps back to his side of the counter. He passes me an orange.

  “Here. You want some more coffee?”

  I nod as I tear the skin off the fruit and inhale it.

  “How about waffles? You want some waffles? I could make you a three egg omelet and some bacon? Maybe a benedict?”

  I whip my head to stare at him, only to see him grinning.

  “Asshole.”

  He grins.

  “So, um,” I clear my throat. “What’s going to happen to me?”

  I almost don’t want to ask it, as if saying it will remind him what a liability I am. But it comes tumbling out anyways.

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  Right.

  “Well, how long are you going to keep me here?”

  “You ask a lot of questions.”

  I glare at him. “Oh, sorry, am I not following the right kidnapping protocol?”

  He gives me a look.

  “You know, ‘cause I’m sure you do this all the fucking time but this is a little new to me.”

  His brow arches at my outburst, and his mouth goes tight as if he’s mulling it over.

  “A little while.”

  “Why.”

  “Jesus,” he swears.

  “Look I’m just saying, what are you going to do? Keep me here forever?”

  The second I say it, I wish I hadn’t.

  “No, because I actually enjoy sleeping in my own bed.”

  He reaches across the counter and pours more coffee in my cup.

  “What.”

  I look up to see him looking at me curiously.

  “Nothing.”

  “You had a look.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “Speak. What were you thinking.”

  I bite my lip as I glance back at him. “I was thinking that you’re being awfully nice for a kidnapping, murdering psychopath.”

  He chuckles. “Psychopath?”

  I notice he doesn’t contradict the other two parts to that description, and I swallow a quick sip of coffee.

  “Thank you,” I mumble. “I’m honestly a bitch without coffee in the morning.”

  “Oh, is that what I’ve been dealing with? Shit, who knew all I needed was coffee?”

  I glare at him. “Look, I wasn’t bluffing before. People will be looking for me.”

  He gets up and wordlessly walks past me into the living room area. He comes back a second later with my purse in his hands.

  “Here’s how this is going to work,” he says evenly. “You’re going to make one phone call. You’re going to call a family member, or a friend, and you’re going to tell them you’re taking a little vacation - some ‘me’ time. All right?”

  The funny thing is, it’s not even that far from something I would do.

  He gives me a sharp look. “No coded messages, no flying off the handle and yelling for help. Trust me when I say help will not get to you in time.”

  I shiver.

  “And no fucking languages besides English, please?”

  “Worried you’ll miss the good parts?”

  “I mean so you don’t embarrass yourself with trying to sneak a coded message through. Trust me, I speak more of them than you’d think.”

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  “You’re welcome to test me.”

  I purse my lips. “So what do you speak? Neanderthal and frat-boy?”

  He arches a brow at me as he slides the phone across the counter.

  “What, I’m sorry, should I have assumed the guy who kidnaps girls from bars and shoots people is some sort of scholar?”

  I turn my phone on to find one string of texts, from Jayson.

  You crazy fucking cunt. We’re pressing charges you psycho whore.

  Fuck you, you crazy bitch. Expect a call from our lawyer.

  I hope you get cancer.

  I blink, putting the phone down.

  Well then.

  But that’s it. No other texts, no voicemails, nothing from my family out on vacation. I mean, I know it’s been, like, twelve hours but still.

  There’s a chuckle behind me, and I whirl to see him grinning as his eyes glance up from my phone.

  “Oh, loads of friends and family,” he says in a sing-songy voice that I assume is supposed to be me.

  “Shut up.”

  I end up calling Stella, even though I know from the time she’s probably dropping my nephew Carter off at daycare before her nursing shift at the hospital.

  It goes straight to voicemail, kind of like I imagined.

  “Hey, it’s me,” I sigh, feeling Connor’s eyes on me.

  “Just wanted to let you know I’m going to be off the grid for…” I trail off and glance back at him.

  “A few days,” he mouths.

  “A few days.”

  I shiver.

  “I just gotta go clear my head. Some shit went down with Jayson-”

  Suddenly, I realize I’m making the phone call I should have made last night.

  “Things got really bad with Jayson, and I- I fucked up pretty bad, Stell, and I just need a little me time.”

  It’s not even that I’m following his script, it’s just seriously the exact words I’d use.

  “So, call whenever, but I might not be picking up. You can pass this along to Mom and Dad, and Ivy and Silas, and Kyle and Viv, and Rowan and Eva if you want. Okay, thanks. Bye.”

  I hang up, and he takes the phone back.

  “Did you want to thank the academy too?”

  I level a look at him.

  “I mean Jesus, anyone else you needed to pass that along to?”

  “I have a big family.”

  “Apparently.” A smile teases the corners of his lips. “So who’s Jayson.”

  “My boyf-” I shake my head. I almost want to lie, but why bother. “My ex-boyfriend.”

  “Your ex-boyfriend the reason you kissed me last night?”

  I keep my mouth shut. He just gives me a look as he turns to grab some more coffee.

  “I have to use the bathroom.”

  He turns, raising a brow at me.

  I sigh. “It’s not a ploy, I really do have to go. Unless you want this nice kitchen stool all wet.”

  “Easy,” he grumbles, coming around behind me again. He undoes the loop keeping me on the chair and steps away as I go to stand.

  I stumble, my legs still wobbly from the night before, and I gasp as he darts forward. He catches me, his strong arms yanking me up and against him as my heart leaps into my throat.

  “Here we go.”

  He leads me to the bathroom and opens the door.

  It’s just like when I first saw the rest of the loft. Because I feel like a criminal like him should have this total shithole of an apartment, with some cruddy, utterly disgusting bathroom to boot.

  Not the case.

  The bathroom is pristine, and elegantly masculine - all dark tiles and silver finishes, a huge, porcelain tub to one side and a separate shower stall next to it.

  This entire place would go for millions in downtown Boston. But out here in the no-man’s-land of the warehouse district, not so much I guess.

  Maybe you have to be a murdering kidnapper to live out here.

  “In you go.”

  I pad into the bathroom and turn, but his hand
is on the door.

  “Are you serious?”

  “You really think I’m going to let you put a closed, lockable door between you and me?”

  “I have to pee.”

  “I gathered that. Go ahead.”

  I stare at him. “I’m not going to with you watching me.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  “I can’t.”

  “You were all set to pee on my kitchen stool a second ago.”

  My face burns as I stare at him. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

  “I’ll look away, but this door is staying open.”

  I ball my hands into fists, planting myself in front of him.

  “Tick tock, princess.”

  I groan, my face going bright red. “You are such an asshole.”

  “Sticks and stones, sweetheart.”

  He turns away, his muscled arm reaching out behind him and holding the door open. I glance at him once more, gritting my teeth and groaning before I shuffle to the toilet. I slip my panties down to my knees and squat.

  Nothing.

  I have to pee like crazy, but I’m sure as hell not going to with him just standing there.

  I tense up, trying, but nothing happens.

  “You need me to run some water or something?”

  I glare at the back of his head.

  “I could play some rain sounds on the stereo syst-”

  “Look could you maybe just not talk?”

  He chuckles.

  Still nothing.

  “Tinkle tinkle, little star.”

  “Oh my God will you please shut up?! Can you just cover your ears or something?”

  Connor laughs, tilting one ear against a shoulder and covering the other with his free hand.

  I’m sure he’s still listening, but it helps, and finally - mercifully - I can pee.

  I wipe and pull my panties back up when I’m done. Hungover me eyes his gorgeous tub and shower, wishing like crazy I could get cleaned up. I wash my hands, eyeing the way everything is so perfectly neat, organized, and aligned. Hell, his toothbrush is at a right freaking angle, for God’s sake.

  I wonder again about the probability of him having a plastic-lined kill room.

  “There we go, just like a big girl.”