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

by Siobhan Davis

  Slowly, I poke my head around the corner, sucking in a sharp breath when I see the predicament Saint is in. Sinner has him in a firm headlock with a knife at his jugular.

  “You have such little faith,” Sinner says, moving them forward a few steps. “I have a crew waiting at the back of the property and a private jet being fueled at a private airfield as we speak.”

  “Then leave me here and go,” Saint says.

  Sinner chuckles. “I’m going nowhere without you, son. Contrary to what you think, I love you.”

  This is such bullshit. Sinner must be bluffing, unless Randall tipped him off, but that doesn’t make sense. It’s probably a ruse to attempt to get Saint to leave with him.

  “What a crock of shit,” Caz whispers, mirroring my thoughts. I nod while computing solutions. I can’t shoot Sinner from this angle without risking Saint, but if we move around and he spots us, he could kill Saint before I get to end him.

  “Well, I don’t love you.” Saint slams his head back into his father’s skull while simultaneously elbowing him in the ribs. It’s enough to free him from Sinner’s hold, and it’s most likely our only opportunity.

  I race toward them. “Get down,” I roar, raising my gun. Saint dives on the ground as Sinner grabs at him, and I take my shot. The bullet lodges in Sinner’s shoulder, and an animalistic howl rips from his mouth. Stalking toward him, I plant another bullet in his other shoulder and one in his knee. He drops to the ground, screaming in agony, as Caz rushes to Saint, helping him stand. I press down on Sinner’s hand to loosen his hold on his knife, but he’s already dropped it somewhere. Bones crunch under my foot, and Sinner roars, rolling on his side and clutching his knee.

  I offer the gun to Saint, and we stare at one another. The kill shot belongs to my love, but I’ll understand if he doesn’t want to do it.

  The choice is his.

  Caz stomps on Sinner’s ankle, and more screams litter the air.

  The sound of approaching footfalls increases the urgency.

  It’s now or never.

  Saint curls his fingers around the gun, and I nod. Without hesitation, and without uttering a single word, he aims the gun at his father’s head and pulls the trigger.

  The screams instantly stop. Sinner’s eyes glaze over as his chest heaves his last breath, and his body stops fighting. Silence descends, blotting out all other sounds.

  It’s a profound moment.

  As if a calming wave has blanketed the Earth, quieting all the noise, rolling over any resistance in its path, soothing the land and restoring peace.

  I hook my fingers in Saint’s, squeezing his hand, as we stare at the motionless body of the man who gave him life.

  “Jesus.” Galen slams to a halt, his eyes instantly meeting Saint’s. Theo materializes beside him with Howie, Diesel, and Bry taking up the rear. We stand around Sinner’s lifeless body, staring at a man we all hated, as the realization sinks in.

  He’s dead.

  And we’re free.

  A shuddering breath leaves me as relief floods my system. “Thank fuck, you’re all okay.”

  “You killed him,” Diesel asks, glancing between Saint and me.

  I nod. “We did. He had to die.”

  Now it’s Diesel’s turn to nod.

  “I hope he’s rotting in hell,” Galen says, viciously kicking his corpse a couple times.

  “Amen to that,” Howie adds, crouching over him and punching him repeatedly in the face.

  “Where were you?” I ask Diesel.

  His eyes roam me from head to toe, checking I’m intact. “Dealing with a snake.”

  “Randall?”

  Diesel bobs his head.

  “You knew he was dirty?”

  “Not until recently. I—”

  “This’ll have to wait,” Galen says, cutting across us. He eyeballs me with a solemn expression. “Our moms have been taken to the hospital in an ambulance. I said we’d follow.”

  “Okay.” I move to walk off, but Galen steps in front of me.

  “Hang on. I need to check something first.” Taking my hand, he strides with purpose toward the stone box nestled alongside the freshly painted wooden bench with Theo following suit. My brows pucker, and I throw a look at Theo. His shoulders lift, his puzzled face conveying he knows as much as me.

  Galen opens the lid, and expletives rip through the air.

  “What is it?” Saint asks, staying where he is while Diesel, Howie, and Caz all step forward to join us.

  Galen lifts a large wrinkled brown envelope from the box, spinning around to face us with a mad grin on his face. Opening it, he removes the contents. “It’s the Leydon evidence,” he confirms, holding up the clear plastic bag containing a bloody knife and a USB key.

  “What the fuck, man?” Theo steps forward, shock splayed across his face.

  Diesel and Howie share a grin. Bry lounges against the armrest of the bench, taking it all in.

  “Mom stole it,” Galen confirms, and I almost keel over.

  “Alisha had it all this time?” My tone betrays my disbelief.

  Galen grins. “She told me the truth under the table before the EMTs arrived,” he explains. “She followed Sinner and his men one night. Climbed in the trunk of one of their cars. She planned to capture them doing something illegal. Something she could use as insurance, but she found this tucked under the spare tire well of the trunk. She didn’t know what it was until she watched the video footage. Then she knew she’d struck gold.”

  “So why the fuck didn’t she use it to put those bastards away?” Saint blurts, his voice a little breathless.

  My head whips to his, noting how he sways a little on his feet. I frown, keeping an eye on Saint. “Why didn’t she use it to save herself?” I ask.

  “She was scared because she knew it was dynamite. She didn’t trust handing it to the police after what Daphne admitted on the recording. She gave away trade secrets. Secrets that would destroy a lot of powerful people. Mom decided to hide it. To keep it in reserve until she needed leverage with Sinner. She knew he’d come for me at some point, and she was going to use it to bargain for my life.”

  My eyes seek out Galen’s. His gaze is brimming in emotion. He’s always thought his mom didn’t care. This gesture shows she did, in her own fucked-up way. She was trying to protect him the only way she knew how.

  Silence engulfs us.

  So much bloodshed could’ve been avoided if Alisha had just come to us, but I understand her concerns, and she was right not to turn it into the police, because then it would’ve just ended up in the commissioner’s hands and the corruption would’ve been buried forever.

  Galen hands the evidence to Diesel. “Nail their asses to the wall, man.”

  “Fuck!” Bry yells, claiming our attention. He darts forward to catch Saint as he falls. Saint’s eyes are closed, his face is pale, and there’s a thin layer of sweat on his brow. Bry holds Saint’s unconscious body in his arms, and my heart is trying to escape my rib cage. Racing over to them, I almost fall when my shoes slip in something wet on the ground. Horror washes over me as I realize it’s blood.

  And it’s oozing from a large gash in Saint’s side.

  CHAPTER 47

  “IS HE OKAY?” I ask, jumping out of my seat the second the doctor steps into the waiting room. He stopped by before Saint was taken into the operating room to update us. I can’t believe that bastard Sinner stabbed his own son, just before I shot him, and I didn’t see.

  That Saint said nothing isn’t a surprise, because martyr is basically his middle name. When he’s well enough, I’m going to slap the shit out of him for saying nothing until it was almost too late.

  Walking right up to the doctor, I fold my arms, preparing for whatever the news is.

  “The surgery went well, and your husband is in the recovery room now,” he says, and a layer of stress lifts off my shoulders.

  “Is there any permanent damage?” Galen inquires, stepping up beside me. His arm slides low a
round my back, and I lean into him, welcoming his support.

  “The knife missed his spleen and his liver, so I expect he’ll make a full recovery. We’ve cleaned out and stitched up the wound, and we’ll keep him here for a few days until the antibiotics are in his system and we know there’s no infection.”

  I slump against Galen as relief courses through me. “He’s going to be fine?”

  The doctor smiles, patting my arm. “He’ll be back to himself in no time.”

  Caz chuckles. “Oh joy.”

  “He’ll be brought to his private room within the hour. You can visit him then, but he’ll be very groggy for the next few hours so don’t expect much.”

  “Thanks, Doctor,” Theo says, stretching his legs out and shifting his butt on the chair.

  We’ve been here for hours, and it’s almost five a.m., but there’s still no sign of Howie or Diesel. Diesel promised to stop by and fill us in, but they had to attend a meeting at FBI HQ in the city.

  Mom had surgery to remove the bullet from her shoulder, and she’s sleeping now. Her doctor told me she’ll be fine after some rehabilitation. Alisha hasn’t fared as well. She’s in a coma in the ICU, and we don’t know if she’s going to pull through. Galen has been moving between her room and here, waiting on news of his cousin.

  “You should sleep,” Bry says, handing me a blanket. “You look beat.”

  “I’m okay.” I drop down beside Caz, resting my head on his shoulder as Galen plucks the blanket from my fingers, draping it over my bare legs. “I can’t sleep until I’ve seen that he’s okay with my own two eyes.”

  “Your love is endearingly nauseating,” Bry admits, stifling a yawn and stretching his arms up over his head.

  “Still jealous, Eccleston?” Galen smirks, flopping onto the chair beside him.

  Bry flips him the bird, and warmth spreads across my chest for the first time tonight.

  Everything is returning to normal, and it’s going to be okay.

  The door creaks as it opens, revealing two very tired men.

  “Hey.” I sit up straight as Diesel and Howie enter the room. “I wasn’t sure if you’d make it.”

  “Sorry it took so long,” Diesel says, gratefully taking the seat beside me when Theo vacates it. Howie sits beside Bry while Theo pulls another chair over. “There was a lot to discuss.”

  “We can do this later,” I offer even though I’m dying to find out what’s going on.

  Diesel grins. “It’s cute you think I don’t know you. I’m here because you won’t sleep until you know the truth.” He presses a kiss to my head. “And I wanted to check up on the punk. I already checked in on Giana. How is Saint doing?”

  “He’s good. Just out of surgery. Doc says he’ll make a full recovery.”

  Diesel smiles, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. “I’m happy to hear it.”

  I can tell he means it, and I don’t hesitate to fling my arms around him, hugging him tight. Tears prick my eyes, and a sudden flood of emotion accosts me. I ease back, holding his worn-out eyes in place. “Thank you, Diesel. For everything.”

  “No thanks is necessary. It was a team effort.” His lips pull into a tight grimace, and remorse glimmers in his eyes. “I’m sorry for all you went through tonight. I wanted to tear into the room the second that bastard put his hands on you.”

  “But you couldn’t,” I blurt, not wanting him to beat himself up over this. “I understand, and it’s fine. I’m fine. I don’t want to dwell on it.” I take my time locking eyes with Caz, Theo, and Galen, because this message is for them too. “He didn’t break me, and we’re sure as shit not going to let what he did tonight in any way affect our relationship. He’s defeated. Gone from our lives. That is all that matters.”

  One by one, they nod.

  “I’m glad that sick motherfucker is dead,” Howie hisses. “I only wish I’d been there to see it.”

  “Saint did us proud,” Caz says.

  “About that.” Diesel sits back, rubbing a hand over his head, stifling a yawn. “We told the FBI Saint shot him in self-defense after he stabbed him. It’s best Saint corroborates that story when the FBI arrives tomorrow to question him.”

  “Consider it done,” Theo says, lifting his eyes from his tablet.

  “So, what happened with Randall?” Galen asks Diesel, leaning forward on his elbows.

  “Did you know he was corrupt?” I add.

  “I’d become suspicious, but it was more of an instinct than anything solid until I met with Doug, the new FBI agent assigned to the case. They had been investigating Randall for some time, and they knew he was dirty, but they had nothing concrete to charge him with. They knew he was knee-deep in this shit with the commissioner and The Sainthood. They were hoping either Giana or Diego would find something they could use to tie them all together. I wasn’t approached, because they weren’t sure if I was involved or not.” He pauses, cringing a little.

  “Apparently, your dad had vouched for me, but after Trey was murdered, they couldn’t be certain I hadn’t been involved, so I was deliberately shut out,” he explains.

  “Is it true Homeland and VERO killed my dad?” I didn’t have time to process that revelation during the showdown in the ballroom, but it’s been playing on a loop in my mind ever since.

  “The FBI believe so although they have no proof. They intend to question Randall about it. He’s a selfish prick, and he might just throw his police and Homeland buddies into the fire to save his own ass.”

  “They must’ve known Dad had the files.” I tug the blanket up, covering my shoulders, suddenly icy cold.

  “Doug believes they did and that they approached your dad asking him to return them. When Trey denied all knowledge, they killed him. Or perhaps Homeland believed then that he didn’t have the files and they had to kill him as they’d drawn attention to themselves, or they suspected he was lying and they murdered him before he could do anything with them.” He shrugs. “It’s all supposition, but our guess is it was something like that.”

  Caz slides his arm around my shoulders. “I’m sorry, queenie.”

  Diesel quirks a brow, and I smile. “My status has been elevated now I’m a married woman,” I explain. Diesel rolls his eyes, but it’s in good humor.

  “Where is Randall now?” Theo asks.

  “In FBI custody although I’m not sure if he’ll remain there,” Howie says. “You wouldn’t believe the politics.”

  Galen snorts. “We’d believe just about anything at this point.”

  “Is he going down for this?” I ask.

  Diesel nods. “Most definitely. The recording from the ballroom and the Leydon evidence are enough to put him away, and as soon as the FBI has a warrant to search his home and office, I expect they’ll find more to charge him with. Plus, we have operatives willing to testify that he had planned to take everyone out tonight.”

  “I thought as much,” I admit, yawning. Caz nudges my head toward his shoulder.

  “We were prepared for it,” Diesel explains. “We brought Howie into our confidence last night, and we had a separate team lying in wait. As soon as Randall and his men swung their weapons on us, our guys moved into position.”

  “He was outnumbered, and we took them down,” Howie confirms.

  “It’s why we were late to the party, so to speak.” Diesel grimaces at his bad joke. “We wanted to ensure they were in custody and off the grounds.”

  “What will happen to the commissioner?” I ask.

  “He’s being taken in for questioning, and he’ll be charged too,” Diesel supplies.

  “And what about the girls?” Caz inquires. “What’ll happen to them?”

  “They’re being looked after, and they’ll be sent back home in time.” Diesel skims his gaze around the room. “You did good, guys. You’ve done a great thing.”

  “What about The Sainthood?” Bry asks, his leg tapping on the ground.

  “Most of the members in the ballroom were killed, including all of
the current serving board members. The FBI already has warrants to search all of their businesses and properties and permission to seize their assets.”

  “If there is anything left of them after this,” Howie adds. “It will be a drastically altered organization.”

  “Is Lincoln all right?” I ask, because I’ve been worrying about him too.

  Diesel’s face pales. “He’s in surgery in a Greek hospital. Randall’s men left him for dead when they grabbed Giana and brought her back to the US.”

  “I’m so sorry.” I grab his hands. “I’ll organize a private jet to take you there. I know the company Dad always used.”

  “I’ll make it happen,” Theo says, his fingers already flying across the keyboard.

  Diesel gulps. “That would be appreciated. Thanks, Lo.”

  A nurse pokes her head through the door, smiling at me. “Mr. Westbrook is in his room now, and he’s asking for you.”

  My lips curve in amusement at her faux pas, but I don’t correct her. “Thank you.” I stand. “We’ll be right there.” I lean down, kissing Diesel on the cheek. “Keep me updated on Lincoln, and please send him my regards. I hate that he got caught up in this. If there is anything else I can do, just ask.”

  Diesel stands, kissing my cheek. “Stay safe.”

  “We’re going to head out.” Bry rises with his brother. “I doubt his lordship wants to see us.”

  If it was just Bry, I’d insist he stays, but I’m guessing Bry is leaving because Howie is here. Bry knows, as well as I do, that Saint would not want to see his older uncle. “I’ll text you updates,” I promise, waving them off.

  We leave the waiting room together, the four of us going in one direction and the three of them in another.

  I open the door to Saint’s private room with my heart thumping loudly in my chest. I know he’s okay, that he’ll make a full recovery, but I’m still anxious as I slip into his room. Lighting is dim, and the blinds are closed. The steady beep, beep of a machine and Saint’s heavy breathing are the only sounds in the room. We tiptoe across the tile floor, careful not to wake our Sleeping Beauty. Saintly may have been asking for us, but he’s sound asleep now, so we take seats around his bed, waiting for him to come around.