The Sainthood : A Dark High School Romance (The Complete Series)

by Siobhan Davis

  “You’re at the house?” I ask.

  “Yeah. He summoned me.”

  “For what?” I sit up straighter.

  “Probably an update on the Lowell Academy situation. He’s eager to lock Lowell down tight. Jase and Chad gave up their supplier. This is the guy we’ve been trying to find. He’s the only other dealer on the street, so we’ll get the academy and sole ownership of the town as soon as we take him out.”

  “Why’d they give up their supplier?”

  “Idiot raised his prices in some misguided notion that he has a monopoly,” Galen says, smirking.

  “Your jock buddies don’t like being ripped off, so he’s delivered his turf right into our hands.”

  “What will you tell Sinner?” I ask.

  “I’ll feed him a few nuggets to get him off our back but not enough that he’ll be pushing you to complete your other two initiation tasks.”

  “What about this truck?” Galen asks. “And why is he bringing supply in from Mexico?”

  “That’s not usual?” I ask, my interest instantly piqued.

  “No. We get guns from the Irish and drugs from the Italians, but he’s always looking for cheaper options, and I guess he found it.”

  “Weird he didn’t tell us,” Galen says, taking a turn that leads us to the rougher part of Prestwick. My brow creases as I stare at him. I assumed we were going to his house in Thornton Heights, but this is in the opposite direction.

  “I know.” Saint sounds tense.

  “You think he suspects something?” I inquire, tucking my hair behind my ears.

  “Maybe. Maybe not. Anyway, you can give the intel to Darrow, and that way, we’ll find out exactly what’s going on, Dar will have a win over the Saints, albeit a small one, and Sinner will shit a brick,” Saint says.

  “Sounds like a plan,” I agree. “I’ll still make Dar stew until Monday.”

  “Gotta go, man,” Galen says, pulling up to the curb across from a neglected three-story townhouse. It sits on its own plot of land, surrounded by forest at the rear and a boarded up corrugated fence in front. We’re parked in front of the fence, and I peer at the old, weathered sign hanging overhead, noting it was once a gas station and car repair workshop. Apart from a couple houses we passed a mile back, this place is isolated and creepy as fuck. It’s giving me a major case of the heebie-jeebies.

  “Call if you need backup,” Saint says. “Watch your back, princess,” he adds before cutting the call.

  “Where are we?” I inquire as Galen kills the engine and leans his forearms on the steering wheel.

  A different kind of tension bleeds into the air.

  He looks up at the dilapidated building across the street. Shutters are hanging off the cracked windows, the grass at the front of the house is waist high, and paint peels off the wooden façade. Crumpled cans, cigarette butts, candy wrappers, and other trash rolls around the sidewalk in front of the property.

  “What’s going on?” I ask, angling my body so I’m facing him.

  “This won’t be pleasant,” he admits, turning to look at me. “The new housekeeper I hired to keep an eye on Mom called me this morning. She never came home last night.” He sighs, looking back up at the house again. “This is usually where I find her.”

  Understanding washes over me. “It’s a drug house?”

  He nods, pulling a gun out of the glove compartment. “I shouldn’t be too long.” He hands me the gun. “Keep alert. Don’t hesitate to use it if you need to.”

  I roll my eyes, checking to make sure the safety is on before placing the small handgun in the inside pocket of my jacket. “Don’t insult my fucking intelligence, Lennox.” I place my hand on the door handle. “I’m coming in with you, and don’t even attempt to argue with me.”

  CHAPTER 25

  Harlow

  THE DOOR CREAKS as Galen pushes it in, and I’m instantly assaulted with an abundance of noxious odors the second I step into the dark hallway. My nose wrinkles as the smell of piss and sweat assaults my nostrils. I keep close to Galen while we climb the stairs.

  “Watch out for the broken step third from the top,” he whispers, glancing over his shoulder at me. I nod, carefully sidestepping the large hole in the stairs, landing safely on the first floor.

  Galen’s shoulders are locked tight as he walks past a few doorways. The bare floorboards threaten to give way underfoot despite how softly we tread. A couple of doors are open as we pass, but I don’t look too closely, avoiding the vacuous eyes of the woman with the greasy red hair slumped against the floor in one of the rooms as they follow our path.

  Galen stops in front of the last door, and his shoulders lift as his heavy breaths filter through the eerie silence. I can see how much of a toll this is taking on him.

  How often has he had to do this? And how long has it been going on?

  I take his hand, squeezing it in a show of support. His fingers thread through mine, and I lean into him, gently laying my head against his back. Every muscle and sinew in his body is corded into knots, his body strung tight with stress. We stay like this for a minute, before he moves, releasing my hand. “Stay right beside me, and keep your wits about you,” he cautions in a low tone.

  “I’ll be okay,” I whisper back. “Just focus on your mom.”

  He opens the door, and we step inside. The room is long and wide with high ceilings and peeling wallpaper on the walls. An old-fashioned fireplace is boarded up on one side of the room. A bunch of dirty, torn mattresses are strewn around the exposed wooden floorboards, most occupied with prone bodies. I almost gag over the putrid stench of vomit, piss, and shit. Someone has nailed dark cotton sheets over the two windows, blocking out the real world. The only light comes from slivers of daylight creeping through the side of both windows.

  I squint as my eyes adjust to the gloomy room.

  “Get the fuck out,” a hoarse voice shouts, and some of the people on the mattresses stir, mumbling and groaning.

  I step over drug paraphernalia on the floor as I follow Galen to where the man who spoke sits at the far end of the room.

  “I’m looking for Alisha Lennox,” Galen says, approaching the man. “Is she here?” His gaze flips side to side as he checks people out.

  Nausea churns in my gut as I walk past men and women of all ages and races. Most are sprawled across the filthy mattresses. Some are slumped against the walls with their eyes closed. Others are passed out on the floor. The only thing they have in common is pale skin, sunken eyeballs, gaunt cheeks, and an addiction that is worth more to them than life.

  I’m not naïve.

  I’ve seen and experienced more than my fair share of dark shit in this world, but there is something so heart-wrenchingly devastating about this scene that is almost worse.

  They should take pictures of this room and show it in schools. Maybe then, kids would take drugs more seriously. I smoke weed on occasion, but this right here is exactly why I never dabble in drugs. I never want to lose control of myself or lose my will to live. I’ve experienced both, and I swore to myself it would never happen again. I hate I had to go through such a traumatic experience to toughen me up, but I’d rather experience that than go through this living hell day in, day out.

  My eyes dart to the skinny woman in the dirty dress lying on her side on a mattress to my right. Her hands are under her head, and clumps of matted hair cover part of her face, but I still recognize her.

  I’m shocked at how much she’s deteriorated since I last saw her four years ago. “Galen. Over here.” I bend down in front of her once beautiful face, and she barely resembles the woman I remember. My eyes lower to the strap tied around her arm and the empty needle still stuck in her vein, and I’m overwhelmed with sadness for her and her son.

  Galen hovers over his mom on the other side, pulling plastic gloves from his pocket and handing a pair to me. I watch him gloving up with a heavy ache in my heart. His tormented eyes find mine, and I just want to take away his pain. I put my gloves
on as he presses his fingers to her neck, closing his eyes, his shoulders visibly relaxing when he finds a pulse.

  “Should we wake her?” I ask, wanting to help but not knowing how.

  “We can try.” He shakes her shoulders gently. “Mom. It’s Galen. Wake up.” She arches her back, mumbling in her sleep. “C’mon, Mom. Let’s go home.” She squirms again, but her eyes still don’t open. “This is useless.” He sighs, walking around to me, and I straighten up and step aside to let him by. My heart lodges in my throat, and tears prick my eyes as he gently removes the needle from her vein and unties the strap from her arm. I kick both away, letting them join the myriad of other shit on the floor.

  Galen scoops his mom up, cradling her to his chest. I walk toward the door, opening it wide for him to step through.

  We don’t talk as we walk back down the stairs, out the front door, and over to the Lexus.

  I open the passenger side back door, only noticing the blanket draped across the leather interior for the first time. A couple plastic bags and a couple bottles of water are in the side pocket. Galen moves to put his Mom in, but I hold his elbow, stalling him. “Do you want me to drive so you can sit with her?”

  “No, I … Yeah. Would that be okay?”

  “Of course. Whatever you need.”

  I help them get situated in the back. Alisha is still out cold with her head on Galen’s lap as I drag the second blanket over her thin frame.

  “Thanks,” Galen says.

  “I need the keys,” I remind him, and he lifts his hips, attempting to extract them from his pocket.

  “Let me.” He sits his butt back down, and I dig into his jeans pocket, ignoring how my fingers brush against the side of his cock, fishing out the keys.

  Our eyes meet, and a lick of red-hot lust ignites the space between us.

  “She might get sick,” he whispers. “I’ll try to keep your car clean.”

  I grin. “It’s okay. I’m not Saint.” His lips twitch. “We can clean up later. You take care of your mom.” I lean in, kissing his cheek. “You’re a great son.”

  His smile fades. “She wouldn’t be like this if that were true.”

  I climb behind the wheel and close the door, wanting to get the fuck out of here. “You’re not responsible for her actions,” I say, as I turn the car around, driving back the way we came. “She’s an adult, and she should’ve been the one taking care of you.”

  “I’ve never known anything different.” He brushes matted hair back off her face. “Although it wasn’t quite this bad when Dad and Mya were alive.”

  “I’m sorry you lost your dad and your sister. I know how horrible it is to lose someone you love.” A muscle ticks in his jaw, and a familiar hard glaze glints in his eyes. I frown as I look at him through the mirror. “Did I say something wrong?”

  He forcibly relaxes his facial muscles. “Mya is a touchy subject for me,” he admits after a few beats of tense silence.

  “Why?” I ask, turning onto the road that leads to Thornton Heights, because I’m sensing this is more than just grief.

  “I’ll tell you later. After we get Mom settled.”

  I nod, wetting my lips, my mouth suddenly feeling dry. “Do the guys know how bad this is?”

  “Yeah. They are usually with me when I’m hauling her out of places. Believe it or not, that place is one of the better ones.”

  A shudder works its way through me. “No one should have to live like that.”

  “Mom has always battled demons, but after Dad died, she just gave up.” He looks out the window, his Adam’s apple jumping in his throat. “Apparently, her life means that little to her and I’m not enough for her to fight to live.”

  “You are enough,” I say in a soft voice, as so many things make sense now. “Addiction is selfish, but that’s all on her. Not you. From what I’m seeing, you are doing everything you can for her.” I knew Alisha was a junkie, but I never properly stopped to think about what that meant for Galen. No wonder, he’s bitter and lashes out. He’s in so much pain. At some point, he’ll have to start prioritizing self-love and self-care before his mom’s addictions ruin his life for good.

  “Except I’m part of the very organization supplying the drugs on the street.” A look of disgust crosses his face. “I go to great lengths to keep drugs out of the house, only throwing parties when she’s not there and making sure there is no cash lying around, but she always gets her hands on it. I’ve threatened dealers, and Sinner has helped me handle a few, but she’s fucking resourceful.”

  Addicts usually are.

  “Can’t you get out?” I ask, already half-knowing the truth.

  “I wish I could, angel.” He leans his head against the side of the window, looking at me through the mirror as I turn into his driveway. “But I need the money to take care of us because we don’t have money coming from any other source. And, besides, this is a life choice. One decided for me before I was born.” He glances down at his mother, his features softening as he caresses her gaunt cheek. “The best we can hope for is to gain control of The Sainthood in the future and make changes. Quit with the illegal shit and set up legitimate businesses.” A ghost of a smile graces his lips. “We need more guys like Theo with the smarts to bring us to the next level.”

  It’s a tall order because you don’t change an organization as twisted as The Sainthood so easily, but I admire his determination and the inherent goodness that exists in all of them.

  It’s quite miraculous when you think about it. Especially for Saint and Galen because they had shitty upbringings and no one or nothing to guide them except for the thread of decency and morality that resides inside them. I can only imagine how conflicted they must be. Because some of this is in their blood, and it’s all they’ve ever known, and it would be so much easier to just go with the flow. My admiration for them increases ten-fold because they are battling for what is right even though it’s the harder road to travel.

  I pull up in front of the neglected mansion, killing the engine.

  Between us, we get Alisha into the house.

  She has only made it through the front door when she wakes up, vomiting all over the tile floor. An older lady, with gray hair tied up in a bun, wearing an austere navy dress and tights, rushes to meet us. “I’ll clean this up if you want to take her upstairs,” she says.

  Galen nods, waiting for Alisha to finish dry heaving on the floor. Her dress has ridden up her ass, displaying the black thong she’s wearing. I pull her dress back down, and Galen shoots me an appreciative look.

  Alisha falls in and out of consciousness as we carry her upstairs.

  Galen holds her upright as I undress her to her bra and thong and wash her in the shower. We are all drenched when we get out, but I don’t complain, stripping out of my wet clothes and accepting the hoodie, T-shirt, and leggings he hands me.

  The shirt and hoodie are a little on the big side, so I’m guessing they belong to Galen and the leggings are too short so I figure they are Alisha’s, but I can’t complain because I’m warm and dry. I slip my feet into my Vans, thankful I remembered to remove them in time. I tie my wet hair up into a messy bun and return my attention to Alisha.

  Galen looks up at the ceiling while I remove his mom’s wet undies, pat her skeletal body dry, and help her floppy limbs into pajamas.

  Galen carries her to the master suite, carefully laying her on the bed, propping her up against the headboard.

  I look around, noting the freshly painted walls, luxurious, heavy velvet drapes, and the mahogany king-sized bed dressed in a plush gray, pink, and white comforter.

  Galen takes such good care of his mother, only I’m not sure she deserves it.

  I stand in front of the window, eyeing the overgrown maze outside with a new lump in my throat.

  “Giana?” Alisha calls out, and I turn around as Galen stills, his hand clutching a comb as he drags it through her hair.

  My chest tightens, and the lump in my throat grows bigger. “It�
�s Harlow,” I say, forcing the words out. I perch on the edge of the bed. “Giana’s daughter.”

  Her dull green eyes skim my face. “You look so much like her.” Her voice lowers. “Like him too.”

  Galen stiffens, and it confirms my suspicions. Whatever Galen’s issue is with me, it’s got something to do with my father. I’d stake my life on it.

  Galen promised he’d give me his full truth, and I’m not leaving this house until I know it all.

  CHAPTER 26

  Harlow

  AFTER WE DRY Alisha’s hair and tuck her in bed, I watch Galen hook a drip up to her arm with a heavy heart for all he’s had to endure. She looks so frail in the big bed, curled into a fetal position as she sleeps. A raspy wheezy noise rumbles from her chest that doesn’t sound good. Galen presses a kiss to the top of her head before we quietly slip out of her bedroom.

  He leads me downstairs into the kitchen. “Hungry?” he asks, moving toward the refrigerator.

  “Not especially,” I admit, because, honestly, the events of this morning have cost me my appetite. Not to mention I’m still quite full from the delicious late breakfast Theo prepared.

  “Shoo, boy,” the kindly gray-haired woman says, rushing into the kitchen. I assume she’s the housekeeper he mentioned. She pulls on his elbow, and his head pops out of the refrigerator. “It’s a lovely day. Take your girlfriend out to the garden. I’ll call you when lunch is ready.”

  “She’s not—”

  “That sounds wonderful,” I say, cutting across Galen. “And I’m Harlow. Pleased to meet you.”

  “I’m Mrs. Murphy, but you can call me Maureen.” She squeezes my hand. “And it’s lovely to meet you too, dear.”

  Galen snatches my hand. “Come on.”

  We walk hand in hand outside, and I swat my anxiety aside. If we’re going to confront the ghosts of our past, there is no better place to do this. “Can we talk in the maze?” I ask, and he slams to a halt, his eyes drilling into mine.

  “Why would you want to go in there?”

  “Seems fitting.” I hold his gaze confidently.