by Sam Crescent
Sarah tensed at the mention of being watched. “Off the rails?”
“Ralf was convinced that the Hell’s Wolves were trying to take our territory, and he wanted to kill you all. He believed that Knife had damaged your mind.”
Sarah recalled the way that Ralf would rant and rave about people he encountered during his time as a deputy. She would always distract him.
“Ralf was willing to go and kill the Hell’s Wolves, including Knife.”
“Oh my God, he needs to get help.”
“There is no help for him now. I had to protect my club.”
Sarah paused. “No help for him?”
“He’s dead.”
“What?”
“I had no choice. He was going to hurt other people. He was unstable, and I got to him too late. There was nothing I could do.”
She was shocked.
“I’m telling you out of courtesy, and because as far as the town will ever know, Ralf has gone away from Sinners’ Corner, and is looking for adventure elsewhere.”
Staring at Saint, she saw nothing. Ralf’s death, it hurt a little, but it didn’t break her. “He was going to kill people?”
“Yes. He was going to kill Knife, Pipe, and God only knows who else. There was nothing else to be done, and I wasn’t going to let the club be at risk.”
“The club comes first?”
“Always,” he said.
“When will the cops come calling?” she asked.
“Not for a long time.” Saint stood up, moving around the desk to lean against it. “I should have listened to your concerns earlier, Knife. I apologize.”
“How do you know?” Sarah asked.
“He had photographs of you, of Knife, of the club. There were several that … were very personal and private. I have destroyed them.”
Saint moved past them, opening his door.
Once she stepped out of the door, she agreed to keep that secret. Knife took hold of her hand, and with him, she got out of the chair and left the office. Elena was nowhere to be seen, so she left the clubhouse immediately with Knife.
They drove back to their apartment, parking the car, and riding up in the elevator until they were inside their apartment. Moving to the window, she stared out across the landscape. In the distance she caught sight of the city that beckoned so many people.
Knife walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, it’s all just a little surreal to me.” She rubbed at her temple. “I love you, Knife. Please, don’t go crazy on me.”
He laughed. “I don’t know, would you call this crazy?” He lifted a hand in front of her. Knife held a simple cut diamond ring. “Marry me.”
“What?” She stared down at the ring in his hands, and spun to face him. “You want to marry me?”
“Of course. There’s no one else I want to marry. I’m in love with you, Sarah. I’ve been in love with you since I walked into that bar, and saw you with your purple hair. You captured my attention, and you’ve never lost it. When you left, I figured I’d get over whatever hold you had over me, but again, you held me, Sarah. You’ve always had me, and there’s nothing I can do to stop the control you have.” He stroked her cheek. “Marry me. Make me a crazy but in love man. I’m not a great guy, but I will make you happy.”
“Yes,” she said. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she held onto him as tears started to fall. They were a mixture of sadness and relief. Ralf would always be in her heart, but he had turned that love she held for him into something ugly.
She felt guilty that she was happy he was gone, but she hoped he was going to be at some peace.
Knife took her hand, sliding the ring on her finger.
It was a perfect fit.
“I love you, Sarah.”
He wrapped his arms around her and took possession of her lips. Sara gave herself over to him. After all, she never loved anyone like she did this man. He was her bad guy that was good.
****
It took four months before the cops came calling, and by that time, they were already married. Knife stayed with her as they answered questions. She handled everything perfectly, and afterward, they rode over to the Saints and Sinners’ clubhouse. Several of the Hell’s Wolves were already there. Elena was heavily pregnant, expecting Pipe’s second child.
He wasn’t even trying to get Sarah pregnant yet. Knife was too damn selfish to share her. Even as he watched her holding Bluebell, he didn’t have any desire or urge to get her pregnant.
“Are you thinking baby thoughts?” Pipe asked, coming to stand beside him.
“Fuck off. I’m not stupid like you.”
“How has she been?” Saint asked, coming to stand beside him.
“The cops scared her a little. I don’t think she wanted to deal with Ralf and all of his shit again.”
“We’re all good. The apartment has been emptied and put up for rent. As far as anyone is concerned, Ralf has gone away, and not left a forwarding address,” Saint said.
“You killed him?” Knife asked.
“Like I said, the club comes first.”
Knife stared at the man, the Prez of the Saints and Sinners MC, and for the first time ever, he felt a little chill go through him. Saint was a cold bastard, and with each passing kill, he was getting colder still. Unlike his name, he was anything but a saint.
Finishing his beer, he saluted both Prez’s and walked toward his woman. Taking Bluebell out of her arms, he pulled Sarah against him, kissing her head.
“When do you want one?” she asked.
“Not yet, not for some time.” Closing his eyes, he inhaled her sweet scent. “How are you handling everything?”
“I’m doing okay. You don’t need to worry. I’m a big girl.” She let out a sigh.
“Do you miss him?” Knife asked.
She looked up at him, and sighed. “Would it make me a bad person if I said no?”
“No, it wouldn’t make you a bad person.”
“I love you, Knife. I’m your wife, and there’s nowhere else I want to be.”
They had spent a lot of time talking about Ralf, and how she felt about him.
Elena took Bluebell from him, and for the rest of the night, he kept Sarah in his arms. The club didn’t hold Ralf’s death against either of them, and Sarah still had her job at Dirty Deeds.
Later that night, after they had made love, he held her tightly against him. Sarah was smiling at him. “You don’t have to treat me like I’ll break at any minute.”
“You’ve had a lot of stress.”
“No, I haven’t. I can handle being questioned, Knife.” She cupped his cheek. “I’m a strong woman. Please, don’t forget that.”
He kissed her deeply, inhaling her scent, which always calmed him.
“Knife?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“I want to have a baby.”
Opening his eyes, he stared at her. “You want to have a baby?”
“You said to ask whenever I want something, and I want to start a family with you.”
Knife groaned. “I was hoping for another couple of years.”
“Well, it will take us some time to actually have a baby. It could be a while before I’m pregnant.”
Nine months later, she gave birth to a screaming baby boy.
Epilogue
Saint entered his home, the one that his father had put in his name when he took care of his first kill. He rarely came back to this house as it was always cold, and he didn’t exactly know why he was there now.
Locking the door, he threw the key in the jar, and paused when he caught sight of a bloodstain on the wall.
Closing his eyes, he rubbed at his temples, wondering if he was finally losing his mind. Opening his eyes again, the bloodstain was still there. Reaching behind him, he grabbed his gun, and slowly started to make his way into his home. He followed the stains and the scuff marks into the kitchen. The basement door was also open, and he sighed.
“Whoever you are, come out now. I’ve got my gun, and I suggest you come out with your hands first, now.” Saint turned the light on, stepped back, and waited.
Hands appeared out of the darkness first, and he saw they were bruised, covered in dirt and blood.
Tensing up, he watched the arms, and suddenly breasts, and then, he saw her.
“Natasha?”
Her red hair was streaked with mud and filth, her face covered in bruises and blood, and she was bleeding.
“Help me,” she said.
He caught her before she fell back downstairs.
Dropping his gun, he was sent a little prayer that it didn’t go off. Capturing Natasha in his arms, he carried her up toward his bed. He didn’t care about the mess. Grabbing his cell phone, he put a call through to the doc.
Putting his cell on the bed, he moved the pillows so she looked comfortable. Her lip was split, one side of her face was completely bruised, and when he looked down at her body, he was sickened by what he saw. There were cuts and bruises. It was like she had been used as a punching bag. Blood was everywhere.
Her chest was moving up and down, and he grabbed a chair, taking a seat to watch over her.
Grabbing her hand, he watched her, scared that if for a second he looked away, she would disappear.
“The club is changing you, and you don’t even see it.”
“Saint, this man you’re becoming, he’s dangerous. I don’t trust you anymore. You don’t even see what you’re doing is wrong. I’ve got to go before you hurt me as well.”
The words she said came back to him.
“Saint?” she said.
He looked up to see she was awake.
“It really is you.”
“Natasha, what the hell happened? How did you get into the house? How did you even know about the house?” He tightened his hold on her hand. From the moment she had been gone, he’d been dying inside. She had been in his life for less than half an hour, and already, it was like he was waking up from a deep sleep.
“You always left the key inside the last plant pot in the dirt. This was the last place I saw you, remember? I begged you to leave with me.”
“I stayed.”
“You stayed.”
“Natasha, who did this to you?”
Her eyes started to go heavy, and Saint saw she was in a great deal more pain.
She was dying, and he couldn’t let that happen. If she died, there was no way he was ever going to come back from it.
Picking her up, he ran down to the garage toward the old pickup truck his dad had owned.
“You’re not going to die. You’re not going to die.”
The End
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Other Books by Sam Crescent:
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