Saint: A Dark Mafia Romance

by Aubrey Irons

  He’s tearing a packet open and rolling a condom down over his thick length, and I’m both nervous and excited for this. But then I’m straddling his hips, and moaning as I feel him press against me down there, his hands holding my hips tightly as he gently begins to slide me down onto his-

  The sudden buzz of my doorbell clanging through the loft apartment has me jolting out of my reverie as my eyes fly open with a gasp. The buzzer sounds again, then twice more.

  It’s fucking midnight I hiss to myself through clenched teeth as I quickly step out of the tub to the sound of the bell going yet again. I’m wrapping my bathrobe around my wet body as I storm across the loft space to the front door, briefly wondering if any jury in the world would find me guilty for murdering whoever this is, given the circumstances.

  I slide open the peephole, and I almost can’t believe it, even though really, of course I can.

  Dammit! Not him, and certainly not after what I was just doing in the bathtub thinking of him! But there’s Logan, standing there with that cocky grin on his face even though he’s holding a bloody-looking towel to his temple, and it’s almost as if he knows I’m looking at him at that very moment.

  “Little help out here, Doc?”

  I can feel the heat bloom in my face in spite of the frustration of having him actually standing in front of me instead of just keeping to my bath-time fantasies where I need him to stay. “What do you want, Logan?”

  He cocks his head to the side and gives me a look through the keyhole. “I’m selling fucking girl scout cookies, Archer. What does it look like.”

  “You live ten feet up from here, Logan, and I’m sure you’ve got a first-aid kit. Goodnight.”

  He rolls his eyes at me. Always so fucking self-assured, like he knows I’m not actually going to let him walk away in that condition.

  And of course, he’s right.

  “You’re a Doctor, Quinn.” He pauses and chuckles. “Unless you prefer ‘Medicine Woman.’”

  Gee, never heard that one before, dick.

  “Keep it up, Logan.” I mutter through the door.

  “Come on, I’m a wounded man! Don’t you have an oath or something?”

  With a roll of my eyes and an angry huff, I tighten the tie of my robe and slide the big industrial door open. “Let me guess, I should see the other guy?” I say it with sarcasm dripping from my voice as I arch a brow at him and cross my arms over my chest.

  He grins, and dammit if he doesn’t still look sexy as all hell even with the bruise on his cheek and the cut on his lip bright with blood. “You really should, actually. I won.”

  “What do you want, Logan?”

  He shrugs. “I dunno, a band-aid would be nice?”

  I roll my eyes again as I step aside and let him come in, sliding the door shut behind him. “I mean what do you want with me?” I look at him expectantly, my arms still folded over my chest. “This is New York. There are literally fifty-four hospitals in this city, not to mention walk-in clinics.”

  “Guess I just come here for the lovely bedside manner, babe.” He winks at me through his shiner of a black eye and grins as he pushes past me towards the bathroom.

  “Just where do you think you’re going?”

  He turns and cracks a smile at me. “The bathroom, Quinn. I have to piss.” He stops for a second, and his grin widens at me. “I mean, unless of course you wanna help.”

  I can feel my cheeks go hot as I wrinkle my nose at him. “Don’t be crude.”

  I’ve pulled my bag of surgical supplies out of the closet by the time he saunters out, and I have to shake my head to physically stop myself from staring at the now shirtless Logan moving towards me in the living area. “Try not to get blood on the damn couch,” I mutter, trying to cover my blushing cheeks as he collapses down into it.

  “I’ll buy you a new one.” He stretches out as he sinks back into the couch, his head resting on the back as he stares up at the ceiling and lets out a coughing sigh. Truth be told, despite our banter, I can tell that he really is actually hurt. Not hurt like the night I found him, but he’s definitely taken some mean looking punches by the looks of his face and hard-muscled abdomen.

  He lifts his head up off the back of the couch. “Do you have any beer?”

  I frown. “No? I think I’ve got vodka in the freezer?”

  “Yeah that’ll do.”

  After a long second of silence, I raise my brows at him. “Um, it’s in the freezer, Logan.” What, did he want me to go over and fetch it for him? I mean I know the guy is probably used to servants or whatever but give me a fucking break!

  “Hey, I just didn’t want to bleed all over your floor or anything, Quinn.”

  “So just my couch then?”

  He grins at me, and I’m huffing out a sigh as I get up and storm over to the kitchen.

  He takes a large swallow from the glass of ice and liquor that I hand him after I walk back over, before he holds it up to his bruised temple with a wincing sigh.

  “Why do you do this to yourself?”

  He snorts out a kind of bitter laugh at my question. “Yeah, mystery solved, Quinn. I’m actually a deranged lunatic and I do this to myself.”

  I roll my eyes as I start pulling gauze and peroxide out of my bag. “You know what I mean. Why not do something else that doesn’t get you so messed up all the time?”

  He takes another sip from the glass and shrugs as he chews on an ice cube. “It’s not exactly that simple.”

  “No, I mean, you’re rich. Isn’t there plenty of other rich-guy type stuff out there you could do that wouldn’t get your face bashed in?” I shake my head as I start to dab at the cut on his face with the peroxide. “Shouldn’t you be trading in bonds, or funding super-PACs or something?”

  “Trading bonds, or funding super-PACs?” He chuckles. “Well sounds like you sure know how to have a good time, Princess.”

  I shoot him a look. “I know how to have a good time just fine, actually.”

  “Oh really?” He’s leaning closer as he grins at me, and I find myself not wanting to pull back even though I know I should. “So you know how to just cut loose and play?”

  “Yep.” I say with a withering smirk of my own.

  “So, kinda like how you were playing with yourself thinking about me right before I walked in here?”

  I can literally feel the blood drain from my face as my heart just drops. I’m frozen and just staring at him with my jaw right there on the floor as he leans back into the couch and grins.

  “I-” I’m sputtering. “I don’t know what you’re-”

  With a look of triumph on his face, Logan pulls out my fucking vibrator - the one I evidently left out in plain sight in the bathroom - from behind his back where he’s obviously been hiding it since he first sat down.

  The blood comes rushing back to my face with a burning feeling, and I suddenly just want to collapse into a puddle and just drip through the floorboards.

  Logan grins at me with a sort of gleeful look on his face. “I mean, maybe you weren’t thinking about me, but I somehow doubt it.”

  I grit my teeth, feeling angry and mortified as I slowly shake my head at him. “Anyone ever tell you you’re an arrogant asshole?”

  He laughs. “If I had a dollar for-” He trails off and then chuckles. “Well, I’d be me.”

  I stand quickly and storm back towards the front door of the apartment. “Well go be you somewhere else, dickhead.”

  The actual genuine shock on his face is almost worth the price of my dignity and my embarrassment, but not quite. “Aww, now Quinn, don’t be-”

  “Out.”

  “I mean I can stay if you think it’ll help you out, back in the bathtub with your little friend here-”

  “OUT.”

  Logan shuts his perfect mouth and nods slowly before he wincingly stands and shuffles towards me and the door I’m holding open.

  “You forgot your shirt, Rocky.”

  He grins as he passes me, leaning
in so close to my ear that I feel a shiver at the heat of his breath, hot on my neck. “Keep it, darlin.”

  “Out.”

  “Fine.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Do you like it here?”

  I shrug. “Room and board while on active duty, and the pay’s pretty decent.” I strap up my gloves, warily eyeing the guy easily two and a half times my age lacing up his own. “Listen, pal, you sure you actually wanna do this spar match? I’m kinda, uh, good.”

  The older guy with the silvered beard grins at me, taps his gloves together almost like he’s eager, and steps into the dirt circle. “Hoo-rah, Marine.”

  I freeze for a second before I whip my head around to stare at him. “What’d you call me?”

  Ok, so I’m hardly the only ex-U.S. Military who works for Blackriver, or even the only guy who may or may not have walked away from duty before getting here. But, it’s pretty much on the list of “never talk about” when you’re living with a bunch of roughneck, battle-hardened mercenaries like the guys here.

  The old guy smiles at me. “Like I don’t know another jarhead when I see one.” He pulls up the sleeve of the t-shirt he’s wearing, showing me the faded eagle, globe, and anchor tattoo there.

  Ok, didn’t see that coming. Still, I shrug and brush off his Marine reference. “Nah, I was a cop back home before this.” It’s half true. Okay, more like a quarter true, at best. I never even went out and took the test or anything.

  The older guy nods, but there’s a smart glint in his eye that says he doesn’t buy a word of that bullshit. “Hey, I don’t need to know.”

  That’s right, he doesn’t, I fume to myself. Whoever this old dude is - arms dealer or whatever he is - he’s sorely mistaken if he thinks he can just waltz into camp one afternoon and start playing head games with guys like me. Marine or not, this guy’s asking for a beat down.

  “Officer?”

  “Huh?” I look up from tying up my shoes to see him studying me.

  “In the Marines, I mean. Were you an officer?”

  I can feel my temper flare. “Listen, pal, I already told you-”

  “Right, right,” He shakes his head. “My mistake, I meant in the police force.”

  I narrow my eyes at the old guy;. I don’t know who this asshole is, but he’s got a lot balls to walk in here trying to bait me like this when we’re about to step into a ring together. “No,” I say quickly. “I wasn’t.” I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of asking ‘why’, even if the question is practically falling out of my mouth.

  “Ahh, I see.” He says, smiling at me. “You just seemed like the leader type.”

  I laugh. “You got the wrong guy, pal.”

  He nods, as if internalizing something. “Well, my mistake then. Shall we?”

  We tap gloves while I glower at him, and once we’re set in position, I come at him hard. He dodges my feint punch, but then he’s also ducking the second and third ones meant to actually connect. Suddenly, I’m off balance and his glove is crashing into the side of my jaw.

  Well, fuck.

  The man’s a whirlwind, and I can barely get my own gloves up before he’s got me off my feet and ass-down in the dirt.

  What the fuck was THAT?

  He chuckles as he pulls a glove off and reaches down to pull my bewildered ass back up. “Not bad for a nosy old man I guess, huh?”

  What is he, a mind reader?

  “Ok, I’ll bite. Yeah, I didn’t see that coming.”

  “Not everything is what it looks like on the outside, soldier.” His eyes narrow for a second as he looks into my face. “I’m betting a guy like you might just take that one to heart.”

  “Listen, I’m really not a Marin-”

  “Hey, I told you. I don’t need to know, son.”

  A week later, I’m dragging Hudson and Bryce with me when I opt out of my - and their - contracts with Blackriver and jump in the back of William Archer’s jeep. I still don’t know exactly where we’re going, or even really who this guy is. But I do know that after two years of looking over my shoulder for the U.S. State Department after ditching out on active war duty, two years of fighting in the mud and the jungles of the worst places on Earth for cash like some sort of honor-less gun for hire, and two years of watching me and both my friends succumb to anger, fear, apathy, drink, and drugs, I’m ready for whatever comes next. And what comes next is William Archer, new names, a new place in the world, and a reset on the game of life.

  I never do manage to knock him down in a match.

  I’m bleary-eyed and half blind from the sweat, my lungs burning for air. I’m laying hit after hit into the sparring bag when the knock on my front door jolts me into the present. I stop, only then feeling the absolute agony my muscles are in as I turn and wipe sweat from my eyes and peer at the door. The knock comes again, and I start to grin, knowing there’s really only one possible person who’d be knocking here at this hour.

  And I think I even know why.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Quinn spits at me, before shoving me aside and storming past me into my apartment.

  “Oh, please won’t you come inside, Quinn?” I grumble, tearing my boxing gloves off and watching her as she starts digging through my kitchen draws. I’m still partially curious, that is until she shoots me another furious look before she storms over and starts digging around underneath my mattress.

  Oh, now I know what she’s looking for.

  “Where is it!” She snaps, seeing the grin on my face as I grab a towel off the hook by the door and wipe the sweat from my face.

  “I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about, Qui-”

  “You kept my vibrator, you asshole!”

  I can’t help it then, and my grin just breaks into a full-on laugh. I mean honestly, how many times in life do you actually get a chance to hear someone say that to you?

  “Oh, you noticed that, huh?”

  It’s been three days since I was at her place, and the temptation to pocket that little toy of hers I found in the bathroom was just too good to pass up, even if only just to mess with her.

  Quinn’s face is bright red as she fumes at my grin. “What?! No! Not funny, not cute, Logan!”

  “So you did notice it was gone then?”

  “Wh-” She stammers. “Yes, Logan, I noticed it was gone and that you stole it.”

  I nod, trying but failing to keep my face neutral. “So I guess that means you were actively looking for it, for - oh, some reason, when you noticed it was-”

  “Oh shut up.”

  Ok, so even though it’s a lot of fun to mess with Quinn and get under her skin like this - not to mention how easy it is - there is part of me that wonders why the fuck I’m still doing it. I mean she’s great, really. Actually she’s amazing, if I can get my head out of my own ass enough to just admit that. And it’s thoughts like those that have me wondering why I’m still just being such a massive dick to her. She might actually just like me, if I wasn’t trying so hard to sabotage the whole thing. And for what? Why, so she doesn’t get close? Because she’s “off limits”? No, fuck that. Hudson broke those rules first and that seems to be working out dandy for just about everyone involved.

  “Logan!”

  “Oh fine.”

  “Where-”

  I nod towards the kitchen. “Refrigerator, salad crisper.”

  Quinn wrinkles her brow at me. “Eew?”

  “Just wanted to keep it fresh for you!” I call out as she stomps towards the kitchen. “Oh hey, there’s also a cucumber or two in there too if you’re feeling extra frisky tonight, darlin.”

  She makes a face as she turns back from the fridge, shoving the toy into her jeans pocket. “Why are you always so gross?”

  The question actually catches me off guard, because honestly, I don’t know. And this brings me back to the whole “why the fuck am I acting like this” thing from before. It’s like just being around this girl has me acting like some sort
of juvenile asshole full of crude comments and pulling dumb shit like the vibrator in the refrigerator thing. It’s barely a single level above pulling her hair on the playground or calling her names on the school-bus. I’m even betting that if I just got my shit together and started talking to her like a normal fucking person, we might even be able to get along.

  Except there’s something about Quinn Archer that makes it impossible for me to act anything remotely close to normal.

  And the real question here is, why can’t I act normal around her? If that one night from before was just this one time thing, and we as adults can both agree that it was a mistake and just move on from it, then why the fuck can’t I do just that?

  Quinn slams the fridge shut and marches towards me and the door, but I stick my arm out across the doorframe, blocking her.

  “Jesus, Logan-” She cocks her head at me. “Does this shit ever work for you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean this whole ‘asshole with a chip on his shoulder’ acting like a child stunt. Does this actually get you laid?”

  I grin widely at her before I blow her an air kiss. “Apparently?”

  Her face goes bright red again, and her mouth does that little adorable thing it does when she purses it shut extra tight, as if trying to keep in whatever she’s tempted to say. “That was-” She trails off and looks down at the floor.

  “Fantastic? Life-altering? The best lay you’ve ever had?” I smirk at her, seeing her cheeks get even redder as she shakes her head.

  And here I go, right back into the swing of being that sophomoric douche with the crude comments and the incessant need to pull this girl’s hair at recess, as if it’s the only way I can get her to keep paying attention to me.

  “A mistake.” She says sharply, abruptly ending my thoughts as I snap my eyes to hers. She raises her head and looks me right in the eye. “Obviously, a big mistake.”

  I frown, but when she pushes my arm away, I don’t stop her, and when she storms down the hall to the stairway, I don’t follow her either.

  Chapter Twelve