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

by Siobhan Davis

  “We should at least give them some water and food.” I plead with my eyes.

  “We can’t risk it. They might try to escape if we open it up.” Or they could already be dead, and I don’t want you to see. That’s what I read in Saint’s eyes as he begs me to understand.

  I climb off his lap and pace the floor. “This feels wrong.”

  Caz stands, wrapping his arms around me from behind. “We know, queenie. But we can’t risk everything at the last minute. We will get those girls out of there as soon as we can, and then we’ll take care of them. The authorities will see they are returned home. This is the best way of handling it.”

  _______________

  I can’t stop thinking about those girls trapped and scared, in the hidden compartment in the floor of the ballroom, as I get dressed for the party that’s about to kick off in an hour. Caterers and other staff hired by Sinner showed up a couple of hours ago, and we watched as they wheeled furniture, food, and booze into the ballroom, decorating it like it’s a genuine celebration instead of some carefully orchestrated effort at putting us in our place.

  I pay extra attention to my hair and makeup, wanting to look and feel the part when we emerge victorious tonight. While I don’t have a crystal ball, I’m confident we will prevail, because no other outcome is acceptable.

  I’m building the kind of life I dreamed about, and that psycho bastard is not ruining it for me.

  Sinner is going down tonight.

  That is the mantra I’m sticking to, and I’ll do whatever is necessary to ensure it happens.

  Galen slips into his bedroom as I sit in my black strapless bra and panties on the side of his bed, strapping my knife and one of my daggers to my thighs. He flattens his back against the door after he closes it, breathing deeply as his striking green eyes roam my semi-naked body.

  “We don’t even have time for a quickie,” I warn him, continuing my task.

  “I know. Doesn’t mean I can’t admire the view.” His lips kick into a smirk, and I grin.

  “Any sign of Satan yet?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “Not so far, but I’m sure he won’t be long. He’ll want to be here to greet his guests.”

  “Do we know who’s coming?”

  “Sainthood members and their women, I’m guessing, although he seems to have been selective with the invitations, because there are only seats for thirty.”

  “Is your mom okay?” I inquire, standing as he walks toward me.

  He nods. “She’s in her room with takeout, wine, Netflix, and Mrs. Murphy to ensure she stays there.”

  I palm his cheek. “We won’t let anything happen to her.”

  “I know.” He reels me against him. “But I’m more worried about you.” He softly clamps a hand over my mouth when I open it to speak, careful not to press too hard and ruin my makeup. “I know you can handle yourself. I know you could take out most of that room single handed if you needed to. Still won’t stop me from worrying.” He presses his delectable mouth to my ear. “Husbands worry about their wives. Get over it.”

  “I love hearing those words,” I admit, running my finger back and forth across the black band on his ring finger. “And wives worry about their husbands too—even if they are fucking badass.”

  His hands slide to my ass, slipping under the lace. “Sure we don’t have time for a quickie?” He slaps my ass, and I shake my finger at him as liquid lust coils in my belly.

  “You are such a bad influence, and coming from me that’s saying a lot.” I shimmy my panties down my legs and kneel up on the bed. I glance over my shoulder while he unbuttons his jeans, grinning wickedly as he zooms in on my pussy, licking his lips. “You have five minutes, Romeo. Do your worst.”

  _______________

  “He’s up to something,” Theo says when we join the others in one of the guest bedrooms ten minutes later.

  “What’s happened?” I ask, my sex hangover instantly cured when I meet Theo’s troubled gaze.

  “He’s turned the cameras off inside the ballroom.”

  “What about outside?” Saint asks as we all huddle around Theo, peering at his laptop, pretending we know what we’re looking at on the screen.

  “They are still intact.”

  “What the fuck are we going to do?” Caz asks, pulling a black shirt on over his head.

  The guys are all dressed in their Sainthood attire. Black shirts, black jeans, and black leather cuts. Their freshly washed hair is styled to perfection, and they all smell divine. I wish we were going to a proper party, where I could get drunk and grope them on the dance floor.

  “Such little faith you have.” Theo’s fingers dance across the keys, like a skilled pianist playing a piano. “I planned for this eventuality.” He sets the tablet down with a flourish. “The exterior cameras are off and the interior ones are on, like we agreed, but if Sinner checks, it will look the opposite, because I’ve hidden the feed behind fake images.”

  “Fuck, that’s hot.” Caz slams his lips down on Theo’s mouth, and I swoon, like I do every time they touch each other. It’s still early days, but they are slowly opening up to one another, and it’s a beautiful thing to bear witness to.

  “Careful you don’t come, queenie,” Saint drawls, noticing my expression.

  “I’ve already taken care of our girl,” Galen replies. “Lo just came twice on my cock in six minutes.”

  Saint eyeballs him like he’s lying, but he’s not. Galen is just that good, and he’s earned bragging rights, but now isn’t the time to gloat. “Stop talking about sex.” I pin them with a warning look. “We can’t afford to get distracted.”

  “Lo is right,” Theo says, breaking his lip lock with Caz. “Like always.”

  “You are such a suck up.” Galen rolls his eyes.

  “We should never forget that Sinner is smart as fuck, and he has a way of being ahead of the game. We’re prepared, but so is he.” The troubled, haunted look returns to Theo’s eyes, making me nervous. “Don’t lose sight of that tonight.”

  Anxious energy filters into the room. We all get what Theo’s saying, and we agree, but it’s worth the risk to end this once and for all.

  My fingers slide across the metallic silver belt on my dress and strengthen my resolve. Sinner is going down. No other outcome will do.

  “Let’s do this.” Saint offers me his arm, and I loop mine around it. “Sinner will be here any second. Let’s roll out the red carpet.”

  “By the way, queenie,” Caz says, slapping my ass as we make our way out of the room. “You look fucking hot.”

  I blow him a kiss over my shoulder. “Thank you, husband. I chose leather so we match.”

  That sexist pig Sinner hasn’t supplied me with a fitting Sainthood wardrobe, so I improvised. Not that I’d ever wear anything that came from him, especially not something bearing The Sainthood logo I despise so much, but it’s the principle of the thing.

  I smooth a hand down the front of my black dress, knowing I look good. This is one of my favorite dresses. The top is a fitted leather corset with straps that crisscross over my shoulders and down my back, showcasing some of the ink on my skin but not low enough to be indecent. The bottom half is black silk, and the skirt flares out in billowy pleats, allowing me to hide my knives underneath.

  Theo’s phone pings in his pocket, and he glances at it as we make our way downstairs. “Diesel said they are in situ, and they’ll move into place outside as soon as we give them the word.”

  We must wait for all the guests to arrive before we can signal the team to sneak on to the property.

  “Did you tell him about our discovery?” I ask under my breath as we descend the stairs.

  “Yes, and he agreed we were right to do nothing,” Theo adds, squeezing my hand.

  Loud clapping greets us as the lobby comes into view, and bile rises in my throat at the sight of Sinner.

  He’s dressed in a tuxedo.

  As if he’s attending a movie premiere or a high-society
gala.

  Behind him, his board members are in their Sainthood cuts, so they clearly didn’t get the memo.

  Tension bleeds in the air as we walk down the last few steps. Heated eyes pin me in place and all the tiny hairs prickle the back of my neck. I’m glad I chose to wear my hair up in a high ponytail, because this house is suddenly as hot as a furnace, and little beads of sweat gather on the nape of my neck.

  Sinner whistles, doing nothing to disguise his blatant ogling. “You have grown into a very sexy woman, Harlow. My son is a lucky man.” His wolfish grin does nothing to calm my growing trepidation, but I put a lid on it, forcing my body not to react to his sickening gaze and his disgusting words. I plaster a sociable smile on my face. “Thank you for the compliment.” I almost puke on the words.

  “Allow me to escort the lady of the moment into our ballroom.” He offers me his arm, and I cling tighter to Saint’s arm, discreetly rubbing my necklace to activate the recording device.

  “You mean my ballroom,” Galen says with a glare.

  Sinner chuckles. “Let’s not split hairs, nephew. We both know you’d be living on the streets if I hadn’t intervened to save you and your mother.” He casts a glance around. “Speaking of the junkie whore, where is she?”

  “Mom is not here,” Galen lies. “And don’t call her that.”

  “Pity,” the bald dude with the ink on his face says, crudely grabbing his crotch. “I could use her mouth.”

  “I wanted to stick my dick in her ass,” the dude with the scraggly beard says.

  “Be patient, friends.” Sinner’s lips tug up. “There will be plenty of hot, young pussy available tonight. And lots of nice, tight ass. Just how I like it.”

  I know exactly which young girls he’s referring to, and I fucking hope Diesel and the team intervene before it gets to that part of the night, because I will slaughter every single one of those sick perverts before letting them lay a hand on those poor women. “You’re disgusting pigs.” I dig my nails into Saint’s arm and mentally count to ten in my head.

  “You just don’t know what it’s like to be with real men,” Sinner says, yanking me from Saint’s grip.

  “And you don’t know the English language,” Saint hisses, yanking me back. “She’s my wife. Our wife. And we’re not sharing her.” Saint pushes his face up in his father’s. “I don’t know how to state it more clearly.”

  “Oh, I got the message loud and clear last time, son.” Sinner grabs Saint’s chin, but I push him off.

  “Don’t fucking touch him.”

  Sinner laughs. “You’re all so uptight.” He throws his hands around. “It’s a time for celebration. We’re the Kings of the world.” He hoots, and his cronies join in, whooping and hollering, and the urge to murder them all in cold blood is riding me hard.

  One of the hired staff mans the front door, letting more Sainthood members inside. So far, I haven’t spotted a single woman, and my unease grows.

  “You’re the belle of the ball, my dear,” Sinner adds. “Enjoy your moment. You’ve earned it.” He flashes me that obnoxious shit-eating grin of his, and a nasty shiver rockets up my spine.

  Dread blossoms to life in my chest, because there’s no mistaking the double meaning.

  CHAPTER 44

  BRY IS ONE of the last to arrive, and he plops into the vacant seat at our table. “This looks cozy,” he murmurs, surveying the room with sharp eyes. “And like an ambush.”

  “Thanks for that, Captain Obvious,” Saint says, slowly raising the beer bottle to his lips.

  Not drinking would look suspicious as fuck, but we’re wary Sinner may have spiked our drinks. So, the guys have switched out the beers in the bucket in the middle of the table, and we’re only sipping our drinks, giving the illusion we’re getting drunk along with the degenerates, when we have every intention of remaining sober. We need clear heads to beat Sinner at his game tonight.

  “I was wondering how long it’d take you to revert to form, nephew.” Bry plucks a bottle from the bucket with a smug grin, leaning back in his chair.

  “Stop it,” I hiss, subtly glaring at them. “I know we’re all on edge, but sniping at one another will only distract us. Save your venom for the person who truly deserves it.”

  A muscle pops in Saint’s jaw, and I drape myself around his taut body, kissing him until I feel him relax underneath me. When we break apart, Sinner is staring at us in a way that unnerves me. But I plaster a fake smile on my face, settling back in my chair, raising my bottle in mock salute to the devil.

  “There are no women here,” Bry murmurs.

  “Why do you think I’m so pissed?” Saint grits out, tearing strips off the label on his bottle.

  Galen fixes his cousin with a fierce look. “He’s not touching Lo. And you need to get your shit together.”

  Galen is right. It’s unusual to see Saint like this, but I know it’s because he’s worried for me. He’s not used to having to protect someone and it’s throwing him off his game.

  Sinner taps a fork on the side of his glass, claiming everyone’s attention. The room instantly mutes. “Welcome, close friends and family.” He drills a look in our direction. “Thank you all for being here tonight. Please take your seats and let the celebration begin.”

  Waiters descend on the room, delivering mountains of food. Sinner sits at a long table in front of the window, lording over proceedings, like he’s American royalty. I snort at the thought, because I bet the asshole truly believes his shit doesn’t stink. The seats on either side of Sinner are empty, which is weird, because I didn’t expect him to serve dinner if he’s still waiting on some guests.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I spy Theo sending a pre-prepared message on his cell to Diesel under the table, and he must have deactivated the security system too. He’s clearly not waiting around, and I’m glad. There’s comfort in knowing we’ll have a team of highly-skilled government operatives outside to wade in when shit goes down.

  We move food around our plates, without eating—because we wouldn’t put it past Sinner to spike our food too—and I will Sinner to hurry the fuck up and get on with it.

  After the tables have been cleared and more alcohol is dispensed, Sinner calls the room to order. “I’d like to make a toast.” He watches Baldy and Scraggly Beard exit the ballroom into the house, and I don’t miss the wicked gleam in his eye.

  I shift uncomfortably in my seat, bile swimming up my throat, as trepidation starts mounting.

  Saint and Galen share a silent communication across the table. “Go after them,” Saint says, and Galen rises, striding across the room, his long legs eating up the distance in no time.

  “Nephew.” Sinner calls out after him, but Galen ignores him, making a beeline for the double doors. Sinner jerks his chin at the two men standing on either side of the entrance, and they shut the doors, blocking Galen’s exit with their arms crossed and menacing smiles on their faces.

  Galen spins around, narrowing his eyes at his uncle. “You can’t leave just as I’m about to toast your beautiful wife.” Sinner smiles, but it doesn’t meet his eyes. “Return to your seat, Galen.” The smile drops off Sinner’s face, replaced with a sinister warning.

  “I need to piss,” Galen argues, folding his arms and not budging an inch.

  “I don’t give a fuck,” Sinner snaps. “Sit. Down.” His tone is cold. His expression is hostile.

  Galen looks to Saint, and Saint nods, knowing it’s futile to protest further. Galen’s face is like thunder as he returns to the table. “I don’t like this,” he hisses, rubbing a hand back and forth across the back of his neck. “He’s going for Mom. I just know it.”

  “We should’ve put guys in there with them,” Caz says.

  “We agreed not to drag any of our extended crew into this.” Saint’s hands clench into fists at his side. “We can’t be sure they’ll side with us over Sinner.” He glances at Galen. “We should’ve gotten Alisha out of the house.”

  “There’s no point
talking about what we should have done,” I say as Sinner calls my name. “We’ll deal with whatever he throws at us. We need to focus on the here and now.”

  “Come up here, my dear.” Sinner gestures me forward with his fingers.

  “You can toast Harlow from here,” Saint says, his voice projecting confidently across the room. I know they want to keep me close so they can intervene if needed.

  “I wasn’t asking, son.” Sinner’s tone is clear and unyielding. Two goons appear at my back, casting dark shadows over the table. One of them drags my chair back, the legs screeching in the process.

  Saint goes for his gun, but I plant my hand on his thigh. “Don’t.” We can’t show our hand too early.

  I stand, staring straight ahead as I walk toward Sinner, flanked by the two perverts. Eyeballs glue to every part of my body as I step closer to the enemy, and I swallow back my distaste.

  “Here she is.” Sinner yanks me into his side. His arm wraps around my shoulder, his nails digging into my exposed skin. “The woman of the hour. Don’t let this sexy exterior fool you. Harlow Westbrook takes no prisoners.” He raises his glass, pressing me in even closer to his side.

  Everything about him irritates me to no end.

  His cologne. His good looks. His fake praise.

  But most of all, his touch.

  His fingers on my bare skin sends me back to my thirteen-year-old self, and I long to whip out my knife and stab him in the gut.

  Man, it would be so satisfying, and I hope I get to stab him at some point during the night.

  My guys are rigid and on guard at the table, wearing neutral expressions to disguise their true feelings, watching and waiting with bated breath for the moment when this will turn real. Galen locks eyes with me, and his reassuring gaze helps to keep me grounded.

  “To the woman who single-handedly assassinated the commissioner, eliminating one of our most powerful enemies. To Harlow Westbrook.” Sinner’s voice booms out across the room, and goose bumps break out along my arms. The longer his fingers are on me, the more I want to scrub at my skin and remove every hint of his DNA.