Cruel Saints

Elena doesn’t hesitate, and the next second, the shot rings through the shooting range. The bullet hits the target in the left shoulder, and the recoil makes Elena’s smaller frame push back against my solid one.

“Not bad,” I mutter.

Elena lets out a happy shriek, and turning her face to mine, there’s a stunning smile around her lips.

Christ Almighty.

“Can you show me again?” she asks.

Her change of mood and bright smile catches me off guard, and all I can do is nod. She quickly positions her back against my chest, and then her grip on the handle tightens beneath my hands. The attraction deepens, and when I take a breath, my lungs are filled with her soft scent.

Fuck, I’ve never felt such a strong pull toward a woman before.

Struggling to keep my focus on the task at hand, I line up the barrel with the target, then I whisper close to her ear, “Pull the trigger.”

Elena listens, and then the shot rings out around us, and the bullet hits the target in the right side of the chest.

“Oh my God!” Elena shrieks happily again. “That shot could kill someone, right?”

“It all depends. If you want to kill, you need to aim for the heart or head. Preferably the head,” I say as I pull back from her because I’m a second away from getting hard, and I don’t think she’ll appreciate my cock rubbing against her lower back.

Shots begin to sound up from the other side of the shooting range where Miss Dervishi is giving Kim Yung a lesson.

“Try again,” I instruct Elena.

She nods and lines up the barrel with the target. When the tip of her tongue peeks through her lips as she focuses on taking the shot, the corner of my mouth curves up.

Standing close to her, I get to look at her while her attention is on shooting. There’s a faint scar on her cheek, and I wonder how she got it.

Elena pulls the trigger, and her body jerks. My left hand darts out, and settling on her lower back, I help her keep her footing. The bullet misses the target making the smile vanish from her face.

“You make it look so easy,” she mutters.

“Years of practice. You’ll get a feel for it.” I move to the stall next to Elena’s, and pulling the Glock from behind me, I take aim and fire a couple of rounds.

When I pause, and I don’t hear her firing any shots, I glance to my right and find her watching me through the bulletproof glass partitioning. “You need to practice.”

Elena nods, and I only watch her take one shot that clips the shoulder of the target before turning my attention back to my own gun.

While I empty my clip, I think about how Elena has once again surprised me. She wants to learn how to protect herself, and it makes a protective feeling spread through my chest.

She might’ve been held captive, but she has fight in her.

After I’ve shot the last bullet in my clip, I glance at Elena’s target. The corner of my mouth lifts when I see she’s managed to hit it twice. Not kill shots, but it’s a start.

I turn my head more, and then I’m met with a smile from her. “Thank you for helping me.”

I nod as I turn away from her, leaving the shooting range. My eyes narrow as I try to make sense of the unexpected emotions the woman evokes in me.

I try to play it off as nothing more than compassion for finding out she was held captive… but deep down, I know it’s not the only reason she’s caught my attention.

Elena is like a wounded little bird trying to learn how to fly while she’s surrounded by predators.

God help me, but it brings out a protective side of me I didn’t even know I had.

The most confusing part is why I even care about a woman I only met four days ago.

Chapter 7

ELENA

I’ve just climbed in the bath when I hear the door to my suite slam open.

“Where the fuck are you?” Dante snaps, and I hurry to climb out of the tub, making the water splash. My heartbeat speeds up with panic as I grab a towel so I can cover my body.

Dante just stalks into the bathroom, and it has me saying, “I’m taking a bath. Do you mind?”

He’s been crueler than ever since he caught me with Alfonso a month ago.

It feels like it only happened yesterday. I haven’t been able to sleep, and my weight has dropped from the trauma, which seems to only worsen as the days pass.

Dante’s lips pull up in a sneer. “I don’t mind at all.” Gesturing at the tub behind me, he says, “Bathe.”

What?

No.

“Leave,” I bite the word out as tremors begin to spread through my insides. I grip the towel tighter, and it catches Dante’s eye.