by Crescent,Sam
EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ®
www.evernightpublishing.com
Copyright© 2016 Sam Crescent
ISBN: 978-1-77339-018-5
Cover Artist: Jay Aheer
Editor: Karyn White
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
GIVING IT TO THE MONSTER
Saints and Sinners MC, 4
Sam Crescent
Copyright © 2016
Prologue
Saint at five years old
Life sucked.
Parents sucked.
Gripping the metal handles of the swing, Saint glared down at the floor. He hated his name, and his mom hated his name. She didn’t want him to be called after the club that his father ruled. The MC was always a problem for his mother. She was always saying horrible things.
“You know, swings are not for being sad or moody.”
Saint gripped the handles of the swing as he was suddenly pushed firmly in the back. He looked behind him, in time to see a girl with wild red hair, giggling.
“Leave me alone!”
“Oh, someone is a moody pants.” She stood in front of him, and he had no choice but to glare back at her.
“Leave me alone.”
“You’re on the swing, so swing.” She pushed his knees, and he glared at her.
“I don’t want to swing.”
She sighed, and then took a seat on the swing beside him. “You scared?”
“Of what?”
“School.”
“No. I’m not afraid of anything.”
“I’m scared. My cousin, she only comes down from the city, but she has like, really long blonde hair, and she said that I was going to get bullied for my hair. She said it looked like blood, and no one likes blood, or girls with freckles.”
Saint simply stared at her as she kept talking. Her voice was lovely, even if he didn’t want to like her.
“What do you think?” she asked.
“Your hair is lovely.”
She smiled at him, and he couldn’t help but smile back. “We’re going to be best friends. I’m Natasha.”
“Saint.”
“Your name is Saint?”
“Yeah, my dad named it after his club.”
“I’ve heard of those. Daddy says they’re bad men.”
“I’m not bad,” Saint said.
“I know. Now, let me push you on the swing.”
Natasha got off the swing and started to push him. Instead of fighting her, Saint lifted his legs, and allowed her to push him so that he could fly.
****
Saint at nine years old
“Take it back!” Saint slammed his fist against the boy’s face, not caring that he was going to get in trouble, and his dad would probably use the belt. Mom and Dad were not having the best time of it, even though little Elena had just been born.
He loved his baby sister, even though she was just a little baby who screamed a lot, and needed her diapers changed. Saint helped even though he didn’t want to. They stank!
The boy, Mark, had pissed him off, talking shit about his mom. Telling him that she was crazy, and that Mark’s mom had said she would be leaving him soon.
Saint didn’t believe it. His mom would never leave him, nor would she leave Elena either.
“Saint,” Natasha said, grabbing his arm.
The moment she spoke, he stopped hitting Mark.
“He’s not worth it. Your mom is fine,” she said.
He got to his feet and stared into his best friend’s green eyes, and felt the calmness of her presence settle over him.
“Ha, Saint needs a girl to finish his battles for him! He’s a baby!” Mark said.
“Shut up,” Natasha said.
“What are you going to do about it, Red?”
Saint burst out laughing as Natasha slammed her fist against Mark’s face. She hated someone calling her “red”, or being mean about her hair.
Before he could say anything, the head teacher was already grabbing hold of Natasha’s bag, and hauling her off with Mark. Within seconds both of them were being led toward the office, and she looked back giving him a wink.
She’d done it on purpose, pummeling Mark’s face so that she got taken to the office rather than Saint.
Later that day, he sat beside her in class. “You didn’t have to do that,” he said.
“Do what?”
“Beat up Mark. I can handle him.”
“I know, but you shouldn’t have to beat him up. I’m happy doing it for you. You’re my best friend.” She grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze.
The pain around his heart lifted. This was why he loved Natasha. Like Elena, she was the best part about his entire world.
****
Saint at twelve
“I can’t believe your parents let you have the house alone,” Natasha said, looking through his endless supply of films.
“I know. Dad is trying to keep Mom happy. She’s going on at him about the club whores.”
Natasha sighed. “What are the club whores again?”
“Women that sleep with the club brothers.”
“I never really understood the whole MC thing. Girls at school are going crazy for you. It’s kind of gross.” She placed the tape into the machine and sat beside him on the sofa. Elena was asleep upstairs. Saint had offered to babysit. The arguments at home were getting worse. Yesterday his mom didn’t come home all day, or all night, and his dad was going mental over it. Saint wasn’t ready to tell Natasha about that. There were days and nights that his mom would just leave.
He worried more for Elena. She was so young. He hoped she never remembered it.
“Brittany kissed me yesterday,” he said.
“That skank? She kisses everyone.” Natasha tucked some hair behind her ear, and Saint stared at her. When they had first gotten to know each other, he’d adored Natasha. Her wild hair always surrounded her face, the red curls making him want to reach out and tug on one. Over the past few months, he’d noticed how beautiful she was. Her green eyes shot fire at him that matched the flame of her hair. He’d also noticed that her body was no longer a dorky looking stick. She’d started to grow boobs.
He liked it when she was close to him, and he loved the scent of her hair.
“I didn’t want to kiss her.”
“You didn’t?”
“No. She just face planted her lips on mine.”
She raised a brow, staring at him.
“It’s the truth.”
“Yeah, whatever. Your name may be Saint, but I know you’re not one.” She let out a little chuckle, and Saint couldn’t resist. Leaning across the sofa, he cupped her cheek, and claimed her lips.
Natasha was soft, gentle, and perfect. She let out a little gasp, and like in the movies he’d seen, he plunged his tongue into her mouth. When she didn’t pull away, he stopped freaking out, and simply enjoyed the feel of her mouth on his.
She pulled away, staring at her. “Why did you do that?”
“I wanted to. I really like you, Nat.”
“I like you, too.”
“I want us to be more than friends.”
“You mean that?” she asked, licking her lips.
“No more kissing Brittany?”
“No more kissing anyone else but you.”
The smile tugged at his heart, and Saint knew there was never going to be another girl quite like her ever.
****
Saint at fifteen
“You want to be a leader, you’ve got to learn to fight, boy!”
Saint flinched as his father slapped his face. When his mother was home, his father never raised a finger to him. Now, he was constantly being trained so one day he’d take over from his father. Life had gone to shit since his mother left, taking Elena with her. Saint fucking hated life, and he hated being away from his little sister. Neither he nor his father was allowed to see her, and it fucking killed him having that distance with Elena.
So, getting to his feet, Saint lashed out at the other Prospect he was supposed to hurt. The moment he was done, and his father was proud, he’d be able to go to his girl’s house. His father didn’t approve of Natasha and believed he was wasting his time on her. Saint loved her. Natasha was in his blood. She was part of his soul, and he’d never give her up. He’d rather die than live without her.
“That girl is turning you into a fucking pussy. No son of mine will be a fucking pussy,” his father said.
Pulling away, Saint launched himself at the Prospect, and with three easy strikes, the other kid went down. Panting for breath, he turned toward the man that he had once admired. “Can I go?”
“You running to that pussy?”
Pausing, he glared at his father. “I did what you wanted. Now I get to do what I want.”
“There are plenty of bitches at the club.”
“I’m fifteen.”
“And still a fucking virgin. You think these men are going to respect you? Learn to take what you want. There are plenty of women who’ll give it to you.”
Saint’s stomach recoiled. He’d made a vow to Natasha. From the moment they were twelve, and they belonged to each other. He wasn’t about to take that back.
“I’m not interested.”
As he was about to leave, his father’s laughter had him stopping and turning back around. “Do you really think she’s going to want you when she knows who you really are?”
“Who am I?” Saint asked.
“A monster, just like me.”
“I’m not going to run her off, and I certainly wouldn’t let her take my kid.”
The smile on his father’s face disappeared.
In the beginning, Saint and his father had gotten on perfectly, no complaints. With every year that passed, his father got colder, harder, meaner, and living with him had become a nightmare. Saint’s only solace was going to stay with Natasha. It was easier when they were younger. Now, her father wanted him gone by ten every single night. Saint would leave the house, wait half an hour, and climb into her bedroom window. Nothing was keeping him from his girl.
Without waiting for a response from his father, he grabbed his bag, and walked all the way toward Natasha’s house. She was alone, and the gasp she released didn’t make him feel any better.
“What the hell happened to you?” she asked, pulling him into the house.
“Dad.”
“He’s an animal, Saint. Why do you do it?”
“It’s nothing.” I do it so I can stay with you.
“It’s not nothing. This is really something, and he shouldn’t be getting away with it.”
He shrugged.
“Was it always like this?” she asked.
“No. Since Mom left with Elena, he’s slowly gotten worse.”
Natasha pushed him into a chair in the kitchen, and grabbed the first aid kit that she kept on hand. She pulled out some anti-bacterial wipes and started to clean up his face.
“You should report him. At least then you’d go and live with your mom.”
“She didn’t want me, Nat. I heard them arguing, and she said I was a monster. She only wanted Elena.”
“The woman is a bitch. You love Elena. What does she think she’s doing?” Natasha sighed.
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.”
“If I reported him, and Mom didn’t take me, I’d end up in the system. I’d rather stick with him the next three years, and then I’m on my own anyway.”
Natasha cupped his face and forced him to look at her. “I want you to promise me something.”
“Anything.”
“No matter what that club offers you, or what your father does, don’t let it change you, Saint.”
“It’s never going to change me.”
She wouldn’t let him go. “Promise me!”
Staring into her green eyes, he saw the fear looking back at him. She was clearly scared, and he couldn’t stand to see her scared. “I promise, Nat.”
Natasha nodded, leaned in and kissed him. He loved her so damn much. There was no way he was going to change.
****
Saint at eighteen
“That’s my boy,” his father said, slapping his back.
Saint knocked back another shot of whiskey, relishing the burn of the amber liquid. He’d just completed his first drug run, and competed in a fight with a rival club, Hell’s Wolves. He’d won, just like he knew he would.
Smacking his lips together, he took the club’s cheers, relishing them.
“Saint?” Natasha’s voice had him turning to see the girl he loved. She stared at him and wrapped her arms around herself.
He’d been spending more and more time at the club.
“Son, when you’re in charge, you’re going to have to make decisions you’re not going to like. It’s going to grieve you, and it’s going to tear you down, but you’ve got to deal with it.”
Looking at his father, he saw his old man staring at Natasha.
“I get it.”
“Good.”
Walking toward his woman, he saw how cold she was, how scared she looked.
“What’s wrong?”
Natasha didn’t say anything, just stared at him.
“What?” he asked.
“You made me a promise that the club wouldn’t change you.”
“It’s not. I’m still here.”
She tilted her head to the side, watching him. “You don’t even see how different you are.” Natasha let out a sigh.
“I’m not different. I’m the same guy.”
“I really wish that were true.”
“Look, if you’re just going to fucking moan at me, I may as well go back to my friends.”
“Your friends?” she asked. “You call them friends? You’re covered in bruises. You don’t smile anymore. You never look happy. How the hell can you call them friends?”
Saint shrugged. “They just are, and if you love me like you say you do, then you’re just going to have to deal with it.”
“I have been dealing with it. I’ve been dealing with it a lot, and you just won’t listen to me.”
“The club is in my blood. It’s not changing shit, okay? You’re the one that is nagging me. No wonder Dad’s happy to be rid of Mom.”
He saw the tears filling Natasha’s eyes, and it instantly cut him up. When he went to hug her, she held her hand out, forcing him to stop.
“I want to give you this,” she said.
She handed him over a white envelope. “What is it?”
“Read it. You’ll see.”
Saint read through the letter, and anger consumed him. “What the fuck? This is a job opportunity that takes you out of Sinners’ Corner. I thought we agreed we’d stay here.”
“We did agree to a lot of things. Not all of them worked out. You have the club, and I have nothing.”
“Nat, you’re not doing this.”
“The club is changing you, and you don’t even see it.”
“Will you fucking stop about the club?” he asked.
“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.” She pointed at the letter. “This is an excellent opportunity for me. You and I, it wasn’t going to last. You know that.”
His heart was breaking, but he knew what she was doing.
“Nat?”
“It’s all right, Saint. I’m not leaving just yet.” She looked away from him with tears in her eyes that he just knew were falling down her cheeks.
His father was watching. The ever observant Prez of the Saint and Sinners MC wouldn’t watch this. He couldn’t beg, nor could he plead. This was his life. The fate that his own mother had forced upon him.
This was the first time that Natasha avoided his touch. She wouldn’t let him see her tears, and even though she didn’t leave him that day. Natasha did leave him alone. He went home one night to find all of her stuff gone, the letter the only reminder of where she’d gone.
****
Natasha
Present day
“You never gave us a chance,” Simon said.
Natasha folded her arms, and stared at him. They had been separated for the past three months, and had most of the agreements set out and agreed to in the divorce. She wanted nothing to do with him. “I gave us both a lot of chances, Simon.”
He gripped the back of the chair, and she watched him, waiting to see if he’d change, like he had all those other times. The phones were in her bedroom, and in the sitting room. She bit her lip, trying to keep her composure.
Staring at her soon to be ex, Natasha hated herself. This man, this bastard had gone from being a nice guy, to a vicious bastard. The first hit, she made excuses for. Each time he hit her, she found another reason, another excuse. Instead of realizing that no reason, no excuse was acceptable. Simon shouldn’t have hit her. He shouldn’t have hurt her, and she let it happen.
No more.
Saint had taught her better than that.
Saint.
Just the thought of him made her ache. All these years she hadn’t been able to chase the pain away. She had left him, and it had been the biggest mistake of her life. If she could ever go back, she’d never have left Sinners’ Corner. She’d have fought that bastard father of his until the man she loved with all of her heart came back to her.