SAINT (Boston Underworld Book 4)

by A. Zavarelli

  “Jesus,” she says.

  “Obsidian,” I explain to her as I reach for her finger and bring it to my lips.

  I soothe her wound with my tongue, tasting her in the most primal of ways.

  “You never told me you could get all these gadgets,” she murmurs, and she is so hot for me I can only imagine the kind of fucking we could do right about now.

  “I’ve got my resources.”

  She leans into my space, trying again to lure me to those deadly red lips of hers. But I pull away, shoving the case of weapons into her lap instead.

  My dick is practically sawing through my jeans, and I know she knows it too.

  She can smell my arousal, so close to her. Practically taste the pre-cum dripping from the head of my cock as she licks her lips.

  There is no distracting her right now, even with weapons.

  “Rory,” she says, her voice soft and sweet. “There’s something I want to tell you.”

  I stand up and turn away from her because I can’t resist her when she’s like this. My resolve is fleeing, the longer we are alone, and I really wish her friend would hurry the fuck up and get here already.

  “Tell me later,” I say gruffly.

  “What if there is no later?” she whispers.

  “Scarlett.”

  This time I do turn and meet her gaze.

  “If there’s one thing I can assure you of, it’s this. I’ve loaded ye down with weapons, but ye have no need of them. I will be right there beside you.”

  “And when it’s done?” she asks.

  What she means is what will happen to us. But I don’t have that answer for her yet. So I tell her the only thing I can.

  “We will walk out of here together,” I assure her. “And you will be safe.”

  She nods, and even the excitement over her weapons is gone.

  I kneel before her again and help her into her heels, cautiously.

  “These will rip out a jugular with one swipe,” I tell her. “So use them carefully.”

  “I will,” she promises.

  “Pick out anything else you’d like,” I say. “And leave the rest for your friend.”

  She examines the rest of the objects in the case. Lipstick peppersprays and hairpin daggers, rings with hidden blades. But she doesn’t take anything else.

  “You’re right,” she says, setting the case aside. “The only weapon I need is you.”

  Thirty-Eight

  Scarlett

  When going to war, it’s important to have soldiers who know how to fall in line. Also, good shoes.

  Storm is late, like I knew she would be.

  But she’s ready to roll, so I forgive her a little. At least until she starts eye-fucking Rory again across the room.

  “Lay off it already,” I tell her. “He’s nobody’s puppet.”

  “Except for yours.” She smiles sweetly. “I bet you he’d do whatever you told him to. And who says I’m trying to get with him, anyway? Maybe I just like to piss you off.”

  “That’s probably more accurate,” I agree. “Did you bring the stuff?”

  She tosses a large suitcase onto the hotel bed and opens it up.

  “Pick your flavor.” She gestures over the rainbow of wigs and disguises. “We got cherry, vanilla, black licorice, chocolate, even an assortment of bubblegum if you feel frisky.”

  I grab a short blonde wig and a brown one too, holding them up to examine them. Rory’s watching me now, waiting to see what I pick.

  “Should I be Daisy or Jordan?” I ask.

  “You should be Scarlett,” he whispers in my ear.

  And then he reaches for a chin length hot pink wig instead, dangling it between his fingers as he hands it to me.

  “And wear this one.”

  The heat radiating off him from behind digs into my back. I make a mental note to give Storm an IOU for the wig later on.

  “Take these too,” Storm instructs, handing me a small case. “They’ll really pop with that pink.”

  I open it up to find some vivid blue colored contacts.

  Over the next twenty minutes, we apply the finishing touches to our hair and makeup while Rory gets ready in the bathroom.

  When he walks out in his costume, it’s my turn to be all hot and bothered. He’s donning a white dress shirt and black vest, complete with a shoulder holster and fedora. He’s the hottest gangster I’ve ever seen.

  “Look at you in your native habitat.”

  “Figured you like that,” he says.

  He smiles, and it’s been a while since I’ve seen it, and I’ve missed it.

  It’s easy to forget, in the fun of dressing up, what we’re really here for.

  But the solemn reminder comes with the alarm on his phone.

  “Ten minutes,” he says.

  We go over the plan one more time. Storm and I need to lure Quinn and Duke away from the party. Considering the army of private security detail they’ve both hired, it won’t be easy.

  There’s a knock at the door, and I glance to Rory.

  He gives me a nod, telling me it’s all good. And when he opens the door, he has his own small army on the other side.

  Crow, Reaper, Dom, and Conor.

  I don’t know how comfortable I am with the idea of them helping, and judging by the look on Crow’s face when he glances at me, I doubt he believes I deserve it either.

  “When one of us goes to war,” Crow says, “we all go to war.”

  It’s his way of telling me not to fuck with Rory anymore. I don’t bother telling him otherwise because actions speak louder than words. He’ll believe my loyalty when he sees it for himself.

  They all filter inside, taking over the room and going over the plan with Rory.

  “Alexei will kill the lights on our cue,” Crow says. “Dom’s taken care of the backup generators, but you’ll only have about a five-minute window to get them outside. Rory showed you both where the cars will be?”

  “Yes.” Storm and I say in unison.

  “What about the security?” Reaper asks.

  “Alexei will take care of it after,” Rory answers.

  “Well then,” Crow says. “No time like the present. I have a baby to get home to, so let’s get on with it.”

  Thirty-Nine

  Scarlett

  And though she be but little, she is fierce- Shakespeare

  The ballroom is a sea of excess. Champagne and diamonds and strings of pearls and feathers falling from the sky. The men stroll with big fat cigars hanging out of their mouths (unlit, of course) and women sparkle in gowns soaked in wealth. Music roars from the speakers, loud and fast and hard.

  A Little Party Never Killed Nobody.

  Quinn’s family is hosting the party for their youngest daughter (sixteen) and she’s piss drunk already. Socialites and celebrities abound, relaxed and playful in their natural habitats.

  “What the fuck have we just walked into?” Storm asks from beside me.

  “Welcome to my world,” I tell her.

  “There’s a lot of security here tonight,” she says, and it isn’t an exaggeration.

  I honestly don’t know how we ever thought we could pull this off.

  But when I glance at Rory, my faith is restored. He is calm, steadfast, ready. The way he looks before a fight.

  This is what these boys do for a living.

  They fuck shit up, and they pull off impossible feats all the time. I don’t know how many jams I’ve seen them get out of in the short time I’ve known them, but one thing is for certain. Quinn’s army can’t compete with mine.

  Storm and I walk to the bar, and my eyes bounce around the room while we wait for our drinks. There are a lot of drunken rich pricks here, but none of them are Quinn and Duke.

  “Where are these clowns?” Storm asks.

  “I don’t know.”

  We drink and dance with a couple of guys who ask us before Rory cuts in. He’s been watching me from across the room, not giving anything away.


  He doesn’t seem bothered by the fact that they haven’t made an appearance yet, but I am.

  We only have a small window of time before they get on that plane and fly off to god knows where. I don’t want to wait anymore.

  This is it.

  This is the golden opportunity, and if we don’t get them now, I fear that we never will.

  “Smile,” Rory whispers in my ear. “Ye’re having the time of your life, baby doll. It’s the last time you’ll ever have to pretend.”

  I smile. And lean into him.

  For the next two minutes, it’s just us. His palm on my lower back, his other hand in mine. Rory’s a good dancer, and this doesn’t surprise me. He never half-asses anything.

  He smells like sunshine and sea-breeze. And he looks like my future.

  But in true Brodrick fashion, he doesn’t give me what I want.

  The moment the song is over, he releases me.

  “Keep after it,” he says. “It won’t be much longer now.”

  Storm and I make another pass over the room and head back to the bar. But before we make it, the lights go out.

  Like planned.

  Only, they weren’t supposed to go out until Rory’s guys gave the signal.

  A gun digs into my back and a voice whispers in my ear.

  “Miss me, Ten?”

  Quinn.

  It’s motherfucking Quinn.

  He’s still as delicate as ever, dragging me across the floor while someone else manhandles Storm too.

  The room is black and pure chaos, people shouting for each other. Amongst the melee, Rory’s voice calls out for me too.

  “Open your fucking mouth and she’s dead,” Quinn hisses. “But if you go quietly, we’ll let her go when we get outside.”

  I do what they tell me.

  Crow and Reaper and the guys are outside. And I know exactly where.

  I hope they are ready. Because it sounds like we’ve got a few other guys hot on our tails as well.

  “Feel like taking another trip to New Haven?” Quinn asks after he pushes me into a stairwell. “It’ll be just like old times.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Hear that, Duke?” he taunts. “Told you once wouldn’t be enough. She wants me.”

  “I wouldn’t touch her with my dick again even if she begged for it,” Duke says. “But this one though…”

  There’s a commotion beside us, and then a grunt before a body tumbles to the ground and down the stairs in front of us.

  I can’t be certain if it’s Duke or Storm, but my money’s on Duke.

  Everything breaks into chaos then. There is scuffling and shouting and Quinn is dragged away from me and ushered down the stairs. Someone from behind us takes his place, seizing my arm.

  I jam one of the spikes on the back of my heel into his calf.

  “Jesus fuuuuuuuuuuck,” he squeals.

  The fight is on.

  He grabs my hair and tries to shove me forward, and I slice him again with the other heel. He lets go and I reach for the knives in the back of my dress.

  When he comes at me again, I start slicing, anywhere I can reach. There’s scuffling beside me, and I don’t know if it’s Storm or someone else. I only know that I have to get through this prick before I can find out.

  The first knife lodges into his flesh, and my hand slips off the grip when he retreats. And then there’s the telltale sound of a gun cocking.

  The lights flicker back on. Duke and Quinn are long gone, but their hired guys are still here. Storm is alive and well and holding her own just fine. She’s got one of them pinned down with a spiked stiletto aimed straight for his throat.

  I would stop to enjoy the show if the other guy wasn’t pointing his loaded gun straight at my head.

  The jig is up.

  “Let her go,” I tell him. “And I’ll come willingly. I’m the one they want.”

  “Who her?” he gestures at Storm.

  And then he pulls the fucking trigger.

  The stairwell is dead silent, and except for the ringing in my ears, I can’t hear anything as she grabs at her arm and stumbles backward into the wall.

  There’s blood on her dress, but I can’t tell where she’s been hit.

  I think I said her name, but I’m not sure.

  I’m not sure of anything. My legs are trying to move, but my brain is paralyzed. Another guy comes up from the bottom of the stairwell and grabs her, jamming a gun to her head and dragging her backwards.

  The door opens behind me, and I hear angels singing.

  “Fuck,” Rory says. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m here, I’m here.”

  Another shot. This one quieter.

  I don’t register that it came from Rory’s weapon until the guy in front of me tumbles down the stairs.

  “Come on.” Rory grabs me around the waist, but I won’t move.

  Crow, Reaper, and Dom appear from somewhere, followed by Conor in a janitor’s uniform. He mops up the blood and then drags the body down the stairs.

  We all follow, out to the waiting cars.

  “Storm,” I say.

  “Shhh, baby,” Rory whispers. “I know. We’re getting her back.”

  My protests end there. Reaper and Crow take off first, and Conor’s trying to shove me in the backseat of the Challenger. Rory grabs him by the arm and shoves him in there instead.

  “Scarlett rides beside me.”

  Dom jumps in on the other side, and Rory peels out after Crow.

  Within a minute, he’s on the phone, and Crow is giving a play-by-play of the directions. When he tells Rory they’re on the interstate, I cut in.

  “New Haven,” I tell them. “They’re going to New Haven.”

  The drive is long and too quiet. Rory hangs up the phone when he realizes he doesn’t need any more directions because I know them well by heart.

  He reaches over and squeezes my thigh in his hand, keeping the other on the wheel.

  “We’re going to get her back.”

  “I know,” I say.

  When we reach the secluded driveway for Trip’s summer house, I instruct him to turn off.

  Crow’s name flashes across the phone, but he doesn’t have time to warn us. An ATV comes out of nowhere up ahead, bullets spraying in our direction.

  “Fuck,” Rory curses. “Take the wheel, baby.”

  He’s reaching for his gun, but I grab it first. Along with the smaller one strapped to my thigh.

  “Scarlett,” he growls.

  But I’m already rolling down my window, and so are Dom and Conor.

  “Told you she should have rode bitch,” Conor says.

  “Say that about her one more time and I’ll put a bullet in your head myself, fuckface.”

  I’m shooting blindly, because the lights on the ATV are bright, but aiming in the general direction seems to be the best course of action. I do everything Rory taught me, but it’s a lot different in a moving car and when you only have one hand out the window. Dom and Conor have more ammunition than me, so I have to make mine count.

  I’m not sure which one of us hits the driver of the ATV, but it veers off the road suddenly and rolls down the hill.

  Rory doesn’t stop and check. When the roadway is clear, he floors it and we’re flying up the gravel drive to the house. Crow’s car is parked around the side, and the fireworks have already started. Reaper and Crow use the doors for cover as they pick off the men guarding the house.

  “Jesus,” Dom mutters as he takes in the scene before us. “They brought an army.”

  “That’s okay.” I reach over and squeeze Rory’s hand. “Ours is better.”

  He winks at me and we all bail out of the car.

  Rory pops the trunk, and there’s an entire arsenal waiting for us inside. Him and Dom lift the case out and carry it to the side of the car.

  “Stay close,” Rory instructs me.

  And then he’s shooting. With impressive skill. He picks off two of the hired guards within the first t
hree minutes.

  But the lucky streak doesn’t last long. As soon as they start taking bullets from our side, they are firing them back just as fast too.

  Dom and Rory have me sandwiched between them and every time I try to fire off a shot, Rory’s shoving my head back down.

  “You brought me with you, now let me fucking help,” I growl.

  He ignores me, so I resort to lying down on the ground and aiming for the feet I can see moving around.

  It’s a smaller target, and it’s dark, and they are moving. So I don’t actually expect to hit any of them, but I give it my best.

  And after a shit ton of rounds, one of them goes down. Rory finishes him off then glances down at me.

  I smile up for him and hold out my hand for more ammunition.

  He gives it to me.

  We settle in for a long night. Unlike the movies, this is not over quickly. We came in hard, but there are still a lot of guys left. I don’t know where Storm is until I see her platinum hair poking up from the backseat of a car.

  She’s looking for a clear escape route, but there isn’t one.

  Unless I make one for her.

  Rory is busy, and I use it to my advantage. I reach into the case and grab an AK. And then I army crawl around him and to the back of the car, making my escape.

  “Scarlett,” Rory calls out. “Get your arse the fuck back here right now.”

  I blow him a kiss and keep going.

  This is going to last all night at this rate.

  And I’m counting on one simple loophole. I’m fairly certain that these assholes have orders not to kill me.

  It’s a risk, but it’s one I’m willing to take. I poke my head out, and one of the guards sees me. And just as I thought, he holds up his arm to the guys next to him and signals in my direction.

  That’s right, boys. I’m off limits.

  Because Quinn and Duke probably want to do the deed themselves.

  Rory is making his way over to me now, and I don’t have much time. So I make a mad dash to another car on the other side of the lawn. I only have one more to go before I get to Storm.

  That’s when Conor takes a bullet through the windshield.

  “Fuck,” Crow roars. “Stay down, lad.”