Page 53 of Gilded Saint

Sam, aka Leo, aka Saint

The ring slicing the air in the dead of night awakens me with the force of an electrical charge. The warm body at my side rolls into me, tugging a pillow over her head. She’d only do that if she felt secure, and yeah, she’s right to feel secure, because she is.

Another shrill ring has me exhaling annoyance.

There’s only one person who would call me on the mobile by my bed, and it won’t be good news. I do my best to pull away without disturbing her and snatch the phone.

“Nick,” I answer, striding to the hallway. I lift the robe hanging on the back of my door with one backward glance at the slumbering woman.I’m going to hell.

“Why do you sound awake?”

“You called. Do I need to fix coffee? What’s up?”

Darkness blankets the city, and I scan the horizon to get my bearings. What time is it? The answer resides on the corner of my phone screen.

“I have a problem.” He’s calling at nearly four a.m. Obviously, something’s gone to shit. A light flicks on beneath the bedroom doorway, and I step into the office and close the door. “It’s personal.”

“What’s up?”

“It’s Lina.” Ah, his sister. “I’m in Doha. I can’t get there.”

“Where is she?”

“London. I got a call…something’s wrong.” He swears under his breath. I can’t make out the exact word choice, but I get the gist. “I think she’s using again, and I don’t want it getting out.”

“Do you have an address?” An unidentifiable sound filters into the room. I open the office door and am met with a sleepy-eyed Willow leaning against the wall. She’s in one of my white button-down Oxfords, and I force my gaze away from her long, lean legs.

Focus. I need to get dressed and out the door quickly.

“Her security is with her, right?”

Surely, he didn’t let his sister out without security.

“She blew them off.”

God dammit, Lina.

“How do you know where she is?” I head down the hall to my bedroom.

“I have a tracker on her. Security found her, but she’s unconscious. He thinks someone roofied her.”

“But you don’t?” I set the mobile to speaker and set about getting dressed as quickly as possible. At least security is with her. Nick has too many potential enemies who might jump at the chance to gain leverage.

“I’d like to, but I don’t know. The club she’s at…she’s not acting like someone bent on staying straight.”

“And she threw security,” I add as I pull back a drawer, review my handgun options, select the SIG, check the chamber, set it on the counter beside the mobile, and search for my holster that can be covered by the right jacket.

“Dante. I’m gonna fire the fuck. I swear she’s paying him off to let her go party.”

“Your sister is what? Twenty-eight? He’s not her babysitter.”

“He’s whatever the fuck I say he is.”

“Did you send me the address?”

“Yeah. She’s at Fabric.”

Ah, shit. I’ll need sissy shoes.

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