Merciless Saints (St. Monarch's Academy 1)

Damien lets go and takes a step away from me. His body is tense, and his stare deadly.

“I can’t have your fear crippling me,” I say as I take a step toward him. “You’re the strongest man I know, Damien. I need that strength behind me. We’re either a team or nothing.”

His jaw clenches at my words, and for a long moment, he just stares at me. “Fine.”

I begin to frown. “Fine, what?”

“We’re a team,” he mutters.

My frown deepens. I expected him to lash out at me. “You agree with me?” I ask to make sure.

“Yes.”

“You’re not going to fuck me into submission?”

The corner of his mouth lifts into a sexy smirk. “Tonight, you will pay for the way you spoke to me, but right now, we have work to do.”

Surprised by his reaction, I ask, “You won’t fight me on this again?”

He lets out a silent chuckle. “We’ll fight again, but for this run, you win.”

“I’ll win every time,” I mutter as I begin to walk past him.

Damien’s arm falls around my shoulders, then he chuckles, “My little spitfire.”

“I’m an inferno,” I grumble, but I don’t pull away from him and instead wrap my arm around his lower back.

DAMIEN

As the plane comes to a standstill, my eyes snap between Winter and Cillian. “Let me do the talking.”

Getting up from the seats, I check Winter’s bulletproof vest before checking my own. “Recheck your weapons,” I mutter.

Holding the submachine gun against my stomach, with the barrel facing down, I walk to the exit, and opening the door, I descend the stairs. Winter’s right behind me, with Cillian and the men bringing up the rear.

As I step onto Sierra Leone ground, I hear vehicles, and then three jeeps appear from the bushes surrounding the airfield.

Each vehicle holds five men, all armed to the teeth. I take a deep breath. “Don’t bring the briefcase until I give the all-clear signal.”

I wait for the jeeps to come to a stop in a cloud of dust before I walk toward them.

One of the rebels jumps off and walks toward me, a merciless gleam in his eyes. I meet his gaze, and when we stop a couple of feet from each other, his eyes sweep over me with disgust. “Vetrov?” he spits my name out.

“Gbao,” I mutter, refusing to deal with anyone but the leader.

The rebel gestures toward the jeep with his AK47.

The leader jumps off a Jeep, and letting out a bark of laughter, he slowly walks toward me. “So this is the new head of the Hemsley family?” His tone is condescending. When he stops in front of me, he laughs again, “Or the guard dog?”

I don’t let him bait me, but instead, pin him with a deadly glare. “Did you bring the diamonds?” I get right to the point.

He nods, his eyes sharpening on me as he waves a hand in the air. “Money?”

“Diamonds first,” I growl.

Tension begins to run high as one of the rebels opens a tin containing the diamonds, and the rest of the rebels dismount the jeeps.

I hold up a hand, gesturing for Winter to come to me. The skin prickles on the back of my neck until she’s next to me, with Cillian on her other side.

The leader’s eyes rove over her, and then he smirks.

My heart falters as Winter moves forward. She lifts her chin, her eyes twin flames as she faces off with the rebels.

She holds her hand, palm up, and then Gbao nods.

The rebel drops a single diamond in her hand, and I watch the men closely while Winter performs the sandpaper test. Then she mutters, “I’ll choose the next one.” She takes another and checks it. “We’re good.”

My senses are on high alert, my skin prickling, and my breaths slow. “Bring the money.”

Cillian walks back to the plane and seconds later returns with the briefcase. He sets it down on the ground, and opening it, he steps back to Winter’s side.

Gbao eyes the money then makes a lazy gesture for one of his men to take it.

Silence fills the air as they hand the tin of diamonds to Winter, and neither group turn their back on the other as we slowly retreat to the plane.

Only when we’re on the aircraft, and I shut the door behind us, do my muscles begin to relax. I remain standing by the door, my weapon ready as we taxi down the dusty runway.

Gunfire erupts, then Cillian says, “They’re leaving. Just firing into the air. Nothing to worry about.”

When we take off from Sierra Leone soil, I walk to Winter and take the seat next to her. I set the weapon down and suck in a deep breath of air.

“That went much better than I expected,” Winter mutters as she inspects every diamond. “The way the two of you went on, I was expecting some fun.”