by Bella King
I petted her with my free and looked at the cuff holding Saint and me together. “Are you going to let me out of this?”
“I will for now, but you’re going to have to get back in when it’s time for bed,” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small key. He slid it into the cuffs and unlocked his side first, and then mine. “There. Better?”
I nodded. “My wrists hurt from all these restraints everyone has been putting me in.”
Saint smirked but didn’t comment. Instead, his hand found Mrs. May, petting her with me.
“Are you going to explain what’s going on?”
“In a moment,” Saint said, getting up.
“Why in a moment? You said that before, and I’m still clueless,” I complained.
Saint waved a hand dismissively as he walked into a room behind me. He came out a moment later with a stack of clothes, folded neatly in a perfect square pile. “I thought you might want to change first.”
“Oh, yes,” I said, jumping up so fast that I scared Mrs. May away. I was eager to get out of this ridiculous outfit and into some real clothes. I was certain that Saint didn’t mind the eye candy, but I was self-conscious about my body. One would have thought that acting would have shed that superficial concern, but it hadn’t yet.
I grabbed the clothes from Saint and smiled. “I guess I’ll change in the room then.”
“I want to keep an eye on you,” he replied.
“You want me to change in front of you?” I asked nervously.
“That would be preferable,” he said, sitting down on the couch and crossing one long leg over the other.
I squinted at him, slightly irritated by his antics, but still glad that I had something better to wear then this black gown. I turned around and dropped the garment to my feet, stepping out of it slowly. I could feel Saint’s eyes burning a hole in my ass as I bent over and picked up the gown. I did this slowly, and on purpose, giving him a show as though he had requested one. In truth, I didn’t have to do that, but I enjoyed it. I thought of it as practice for my acting career.
Saint was silent as I shook open the folded clothes that he had given me and held them up to my naked body. It was a pair of his pajama pants and a large t-shirt. They smelled just like him, and they were super soft. My skin turned to goosebumps as the fabric brushed against me. Every cell in my body was on high-alert, and even the slightest touch of the clothing made me feel a rush. I could only think what Saint’s hands would do to my body.
I stepped into the pajama pants, then pulled the shirt over my head. Once I was sure that I was covered, I spun around to face Saint with a smile. “How do I look?” I asked playfully.
“Stunning,” he said, looking me up and down with those amazing eyes of his. His lips were pushed out slightly, and his hair fell lightly over his forehead.
“You don’t think I look like a man in this?” I asked, trying to draw out more compliments. It had been a while since I had a man’s undivided attention. Usually, they only looked at me during my audition, and then it was on to the next one. I didn’t have time to date either.
“Ruth, you’d look like a bombshell even if you were wearing a garbage bag,” Saint replied.
I laughed. “Hopefully it doesn’t come to that.”
He shrugged. “Don’t make me angry, and you can keep wearing my clothes.”
I smiled and walked to the couch, plopping down on the springy cushion beside him. “I think it’s time you explain what’s going on.”
Saint nodded. “Alright, fair enough.”
I sat, my hands clasped neatly between my thighs, as Saint began his story.
“The Southside Syndicate owns Florida. They used to only be prominent in the south, but now they’re everywhere. You can’t sell a gram of bud on the corner without them demanding a cut.
“I’ve been on the streets long enough to remember when they weren’t so powerful. I owned the west side for a while, dealing everything from guns to tickets to the next big football game. If you wanted something that was hard to get, you would come to me.”
“When did you start?” I asked, curious about how he got into all this. I was already fascinated.
Saint smiled, but there wasn’t any happiness in the curl of his lips. “Fifteen. I was in foster care, and they would beat me if I stepped out of line. I got fed up one night and started a fire in the house before I fled to the streets. It killed three people, including another foster girl who was being abused there. I never meant to cause so much damage, but I couldn’t go back to foster care after that. I would be sent to prison.”
“Holy shit,” I whispered. “Do you feel bad about it?”
He nodded. “That’s just about the only thing I feel bad about. Everyone else deserved what they got. Anyway, I couldn’t go back, and I was already a criminal, so I started stealing to stay alive. When I figured out there was money in the black market, I started dealing. From there, I built an empire.”
Saint paused, looking at me. “Maybe you understand. Sometimes things call to you, and you have to answer. The world has different plans for people like you and me.”
I nodded. I knew exactly what he was talking about. I had the opportunity to live a nice life as a lawyer, but acting chose me and pulled me away from all that.
“I’ve had clashed with the Southside Syndicate before, but nothing like this,” Saint continued, shaking his head. “They’ve crossed a line, and I have to fight back. That’s where you come in.” He slapped a hand down on my knee and shook it gently. “You’re more important than you might think.”
“Yes, and I still don’t know why,” I said.
“And you won’t know, unfortunately. That’s not something I’m willing to share,” Saint said, standing up.
“Why not?” I asked.
“Are you hungry?” he asked, changing the subject. “All this sneaking around the Syndicate headquarters has got my famished.”
“They fed me there,” I said, annoyed that he still wouldn’t tell me the entire story. From what I gathered, he also wanted me to influence the court case that my mother was overseeing. Why else would he keep me prisoner instead of just turning me over to the police? If he was just sabotaging the Southside Syndicate, then there was no need to do anything but return me to my mother.
“I’m going to make a sandwich. Come to the kitchen with me,” he said, holding out a hand to help me off the couch.
I declined his help and got up myself, crossing my arms as I followed him into the kitchen. Mrs. May was waiting there, looking eagerly at her empty food bowl.
“Looks like I’m not the only one who’s hungry,” Saint said, chuckling at Mrs. May as he opened the fridge. “If you want to feed her, the cat food is in the cabinet under the sink.”
The same as in my place. I bent over and opened the cabinet, grabbing a large bag of premium cat food out from underneath the sink pipes. I was impressed that Saint had bought such nice food. I would have too if I could afford it. Mrs. May usually got the brand that cost slightly more than the cheapest.
Saint was already at the fridge, pulling out an assortment of ingredients to make a sandwich with. I gave him a funny look as he pulled out a jar of green olives and placed it on the black granite countertop.
“What?” he said, acting like there was nothing wrong with how many ingredients he was about to use to make a sandwich.
“Olives?” I asked. “I thought you were making a sandwich.”
“I am,” he said cheerfully. “Olives increase your sexual energy.”
I laughed. “No way.” I didn’t believe in much of that holistic health stuff.
“Seriously, they do. You’ll find out soon enough,” he said, giving me a wink as he unscrewed the lid to the jar.
I shook my head at him, heaving the bag of food to Mrs. May’s new bowl and pouring it until it overflowed.
“You want one?” Saint asked, holding out the jar as he chewed on an olive.
“I don’t like ol
ives,” I said.
“You’re missing out. These are Greek.”
“What difference does it make?” I asked, bringing the bag of cat food back to the cabinet under the sink as Mrs. May happily crunched away at her lunch.
“I don’t actually know, but they’re good,” Saint admitted.
“You can enjoy them,” I said. “I’m more thirsty than anything. They didn’t give me a drop to drink while I was locked up.”
“Yeah, have some juice,” Saint said, reaching into the open fridge and pulling out a jug of mixed fruit juice.
“Perfect,” I said, taking it from him and unscrewing the lid.
“I’ll get you a glass,” Saint said, turning around.
I ignored him, pressing the sugary plastic opening to my lips and gulping down as much as I could before I got brain freeze.
“You’re not one for manners, are you?” Saint asked, amusement in his voice when he turned around with a glass in his hand.
I shook my head. “I find them to be a waste of time.”
He laughed. “Yeah, same. I would have thought you would have been better at that than me though, since your parents are so well-off.”
I placed the jug down on the counter. “I’m not really much like them.”
“I’m gathering that now. You’re really something else. The last woman I had over had run screaming from the apartment when she discovered my collection of guns.”
“I’m not scared that easily, as you can tell,” I replied, rolling my eyes at his story. It sounded more like a humble-brag than an accurate recollection of events, but I wasn’t going to get jealous. I wasn’t planning on having relations with this man. He was a crook and a kidnapper, not a viable dating option.
“I’ve killed people before. That doesn’t scare you?” Saint asked, raising his perfectly arched eyebrows at me.
I shrugged. “I saw you kill one. He was a bad guy, though.”
“Well, I don’t kill innocent people unless they get on my nerves,” he replied, starting to stack a variety of odd ingredients together to make a sandwich. He started with bread but lost me when he threw on olives after a layer of mustard. Of all the crazy things I had seen from him, this was the most concerning.
“I don’t kill people at all, but everyone seems to have taken a big interest in me,” I said.
“You’re useful,” Saint replied.
“Who’s on that trial anyway?” I asked, leaning against the counter as I watched Saint continue to stack his sandwich higher than he would be able to open his mouth.
“People.”
I rolled my eyes. “Obviously.”
“Could have been cats, you know. Mrs. May is quite the troublemaker,” he joked, flashing me a white smile.
“Seriously,” I said, annoyed that he was changing the subject again.
“Seriously. There are people on the trial - people from the Southside Syndicate, important people.”
I squinted at him. “So, the Syndicate wants to get these people off the hook?”
“Some of them, yes,” Saint said, finally placing a top piece of bread on his sandwich, enclosing the mess of food in between.
“But you’re not working with the Syndicate. Why would you want to use me?” I asked, having trouble piecing together his reasoning.
Saint shook his head. “That’s enough of the questions, curious Ruth. I’m going to enjoy my lunch and watch some TV. Care to join me?”
“No,” I said, pursing my lips at him in disapproval.
“Too bad,” Saint said, picking up his plate and grabbing my arm. “We’re going to watch my favorite show.”
Chapter Twelve
“Your favorite show is the news?” I asked, excepting something with a little more action.
“Not just any news, Ruth. It’s the local news. The cops are so stupid, they will literally announce to the criminals what their plans are. It pays to stay up to date on this stuff,” Saint said with excitement before biting down on his impossibly tall sandwich. He had squished it down far enough to fit into his mouth, but just barely.
I was sitting on the couch beside him, my legs pulled up on the sofa and Mrs. May back by my side. I petted her as I watched the reporters talk about the weather and how it would affect local events. Rain, rain, and more rain. It’s what everyone expected.
“I’m going to need some pictures of you later,” Saint said as he watched the TV.
“I should be a model. First, the Syndicate, and now you,” I said.
“We could do a really nice shoot, but I need something more distressing. Your mother has to be really worried about you,” Saint said.
“I mean, she probably already is if the Syndicate sent those photos. I was in bad condition,” I said.
“Did they tie you up?” he asked.
“Yeah, and I was all dirty, too,” I replied.
Saint glanced at me. “We’ll do something even worse, then.”
I laughed, but it was nervous laughter. I didn’t think that Saint would do me any real harm, but I could never be certain. I still didn’t trust him. It’s not like he had actually rescued me. He just moved me to a new location, granted, it was more comfortable.
“Don’t worry. I’ll only make it look bad. You might even enjoy it. I’m pretty good with ropes,” Saint said with a wicked grin.
“Are you going to try some bondage shit on me?” I asked, wondering what he had in mind.
“Something like that. Grab a vibrator, and you might just lose control,” he said, glancing at me again to gauge my reaction. He seemed like he meant it.
I frowned. “You’re going to have to do better than that if you want me to fuck you,” I said, challenging him.
“Woah, slow down, darling. I never said that,” Saint said, holding his hands up like he was innocent.
I knew well enough that he wasn’t.
“You think that I’m going to fall for you like I’m some kind of simpleminded slut, don’t you?” I asked, digging in deeper.
“Slut? No. A horny woman who hasn’t been properly tied up and made to cum before? Yes.”
“God, you’re sick,” I said. “That’s not how any of this works.”
“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.”
“Nobody is doing any knocking around here. I’m not interested,” I said bluntly, trying to end this conversation.
Saint shrugged, leaning back on the couch and placing his arm behind my shoulders. “We’ll see about that.”
I huffed at Saint as he went back to watching the local news. As he had said, there was a police chief standing at a podium with a pile of microphones in front of him, blabbing about his plans to stop crime in South Florida.
Saint continued to consume his sandwich at an alarmingly fast rate. He managed to inhale the entire thing within a minute of having ended our conversation as he watched the news like it was the most exciting thing in the world. He was so engrossed that I could have gotten up and walked straight out of his apartment without him doing anything.
It was tempting, but I didn’t. I would probably be walking into the hands of the Syndicate if I did. That reminded me of the van that Saint had left in the garage.
“Hey, are you going to do something about the van you stole?” I asked, breaking Saint’s concentration.
He looked at me. “Good attention to detail. I’m going to dump it later tonight. You can join me if you want.”
“I think I’ll pass,” I said politely.
“Wrong answer,” he said with a chuckle. “I’m not letting you out of my sight. Besides, you’re way too fine for me to look away.”
“You’re not charming,” I said dryly.
“I’m also not joking,” he replied. “Do you want to take those pictures now? You could probably use a good shower beforehand.”
I nodded. “Yeah, let’s do the shower first.”
“Do you want me to join you?” he said, another smirk stretching across his handsome face.
I sighed. “Y
ou’re not going to quit, are you?”
“Probably not.”
“Well, the answer is still no,” I said. I got up from the couch before I could change my mind.
I didn’t know why I was so tempted to allow him in the shower with me. Maybe it was curiosity alone, but I was drawn to him like I had never been drawn to a man before. It was the eyes that kept me locked into his charm, even though the rest of him was nearly just as appealing. I shouldn’t have been attracted to a thug like him, but I was.
“I have to make sure you don’t try anything silly,” Saint said, getting up to follow me to the bedroom.
“You think I’m going to jump out the window on the top floor?” I asked, laughing at him as I crossed through the doorway.
“You’re a creative girl. I’m sure you would think of something.”
He was right. Already, I was thinking about ways to escape, but they weren’t going to be while I was here. It would be better to escape when we went to dump the van somewhere. Then, I would have a vehicle to make my getaway with.
When I slipped through the door to the bathroom, I turned to face Saint, who had come up right behind me. “You can wait out here, mister.”
A subtle smirk pervaded his lips. “I can’t watch?”
“I would prefer some privacy. I think you got enough of a show in the living room.”
“True.”
I smiled. “Don’t worry, I won’t be long,” I said, and then I closed the door. I made sure to lock it so that Saint didn’t come in, but I doubted that he would. He may have been rude sometimes, but there was a level of respect he had, and I knew that he didn’t want to willingly put me through any significant harm.
I looked around the bathroom. It was large and well equipped, with plenty of white towels and body wash. I was impressed that it was in such good condition. Single men tend to have trouble keeping up with their own place. Maybe he had a maid, or perhaps he had cleaned up in anticipation of my arrival. Either way, I appreciated it. I used enough moldy showers to last me a lifetime.