Ruthless Saints

I have to suppress the urge to hold her. I want to assure her something like this will never happen again, but I know she won’t believe a word I say now.

At least I have more time.

HAILEY

My heart is pounding against my healing ribs, creating a pulsing ache in my chest.

I don’t trust Carson, but I can’t risk my life by taking a chance out there, and I sure as hell don’t want to put my parents in any kind of danger. Truthfully, I’d rather face Carson, Alexei, and Demitri than a horde of Albanians.

God, please don’t let this be another stupid decision.

The only comfort I have is that I’ll be back in Saint Luc. I know the code to Carson’s house. And honestly, even though I have a million doubts and fears, and things are over between Carson and me… there’s a small part of me that needs to see if the Carson I knew was real at all.

Heartache squeezes at my insides. I feel lost and miserably alone. I want to crawl into his arms and, at the same time, run as far away from him as I can.

I just need to know it wasn’t all a lie. Maybe it will help restore some of my shattered faith in humanity.

Alexei and Demitri come out, and hesitantly, I follow the men to an SUV. Carson gets in the back with me while Alexei slides behind the steering wheel and Demitri takes the passenger’s seat.

As Alexei starts the engine, Carson presses against the panel by our legs, and then my eyes go wide as saucers. He pulls out one gun after the other, handing two weapons each to Demitri and Alexei.

“W-what are you doing?” I stammer as fear ricochets through me, and a cold sweat breaks out over my body.

Carson tucks one behind his back and sets the other down between us, then he looks at me. “It’s in case we’re ambushed. We need to be prepared. I’d give you one, but I don’t want you shooting yourself… or me by accident.”

I give him a scathing glare then turn my head away from him. Only then do I remember he got shot, and I haven’t even asked him how he feels. Reluctantly, I mutter, “How’s your shoulder?”

“It’s fine.”

Carson pulls the chain I forgot about from his pocket, and when he leans over to me, I snap, “I’m not wearing that. In case you didn’t get the memo, we aren’t a couple anymore.”

“It has a tracking device in it,” he flips the tag over, “and a panic button. It’s so we can find you if you get taken.”

My eyes dart up to his. He gave it to me right before the attack. Was it in case we got separated so he could find me?

There’s no malice in his eyes.

There never has been.

Is he still the man I fell in love with?

My mind rebels against the thoughts because nothing changes the fact that he’s a cold-blooded killer.

I hold my hand out to him, and he drops the chain in my palm. I place it around my neck then stare out the window as we leave St. Monarch’s.

I glance back, taking in the view of the old castle. It’s beautiful. No one would think it’s a gathering place for criminals. I certainly wouldn’t have.

The drive back to Saint Luc is long and painful. I keep changing positions, trying to find a comfortable spot. Painful shivers rush through my body, and I wrap an arm around my ribs.

“Lie down,” Carson murmurs, patting his thigh.

I shake my head and rest the side of my face against the window, and after a couple of minutes, pure exhaustion makes me fall asleep.

I’m startled awake by Carson slipping his arms beneath me. “I can walk,” the words burst from me.

He instantly pulls back, and taking hold of the gun, he gets out of the car. I open my door, and a piercing ache stabs at each of my ribs.

I glance down the road. “What about the rest of my belongings?”

“I’ll get them for you as soon as you’re settled in bed,” Carson says as he gestures for me to walk to the door.

I hesitate for a moment, glancing back down the road again. I don’t even have enough energy to make it around the bend.

Turning toward the house, I follow the men inside. I walk past them and slowly take the stairs up to the bedrooms. I go to the first guest room because it’s furthest from Carson’s room. The furnishings are sparse. There’s only a bed and one bedside table.

Carson comes in and sets my bag down by the foot of the bed. I watch as he pulls the covers back and positions the pillows so I can lean back against them. Then he says, “Get in.”

I would argue with him if I wasn’t in so much pain. Settling for a scowl, I kick off my shoes and climb into bed.