Page 61 of Saint

Forcing himself to keep a clear head and ignore his throbbing digits, he tried to twist the nail and push it out. After a few grunts, his fingers began bleeding harder. Stuck on his back, he couldn’t get the right angle or a good enough grip. With a curse, he gave up.

For a brief moment, he considered ramming his knee up and trying to break through the lid, but he didn’t have enough room to build any momentum. He’d probably only end up breaking his kneecap. As he debated what to do, gunfire echoed from the hallway.

Fuck.He hoped to Christ Mia was okay. He couldn’t stomach the alternative.

Once again, the panic began to rise, but he had to keep it at bay no matter how much he fucking hated being helpless and locked in that coffin. Striving to remain logical and in control of the situation, he pretended his fear was a bull and he grabbed that fucker by the horns and wrangled it to the goddamn ground.

He was a tough SOB. He’d been through so much, and he’d always endured. Kind of like a cockroach or a weed—he wasn’t that easy to kill. Somehow, he’d push through and survive this, too. Because for the first time in his life, he had something to live for.

Mia.

Falling for his target had never been part of the plan, yet here he was, ready to bend over backward and do anything for the woman who was far too good, too sweet and too lovely to end up with an uncouth, rough brute like him. But, he would treat her like his queen, the most precious thing in his universe, because that’s exactly what she’d become in such an impossibly short time.

The distant pop of a gun reached his ears. Could his team be there? He sure as shit hoped so.

Out of the blue, the ground began to rumble. Everything shook hard, like an earthquake was happening. But Saint knew better. It was an avalanche.

Yeah, he had a pretty good idea Ex Nihilo was in the house. And thank God for that.

Breathe through the fear.

Thoughts of Mia and a future together settled his nerves, helping him to focus. After pulling in a deep, steadying breath, he turned his hand and slammed his palm against the cornerof the lid, trying to loosen the nail. Bam! He couldn’t give up, refused to give in when Mia needed him. After half a dozen hits, it seemed like he was making more noise than progress. Suddenly, he heard voices and froze.

Was Carlisle back? Could it be Mia?

Straining to hear, he nearly wept in relief when he recognized Inda’s voice.

“Rip, over here!” she whisper-yelled.

“Bruja!” Saint slammed a fist against the lid. “I’m in here.”

Boots scuffed across the floor and then Inda’s voice was near his head. “Don’t worry, Saint, we’re here. We’ll have you out in a minute.”

A hammer ripped the nails from the wood and Saint shoved the lid off before Ryland finished removing them. He’d never been so happy to see anyone and resisted the urge to plant a kiss on both of them.

Shaking, he started to climb out and Inda grabbed his arm to help steady him. “You okay?” she asked, her gaze zeroing in on the table full of wicked-looking torture devices and the red marks that dotted his chest from the electric jolts he’d received.

He forced a nod. “Yeah, thanks. But, Carlisle has Mia. We need to find them.”

“So, you got a girlfriend now, Saint?” Ryland teased, mouth edging up.

Normally, he’d respond with a cursory ‘fuck you.’ But, he merely grinned like a fool and warmth flooded his once-empty heart. “Yeah, but she doesn’t know it yet.”

Ryland chuckled, handing him a pistol. “Classic.”

It felt damn good to have a weapon in his hand again. He was about to ask where Pharaoh and Demon were when the floor jolted beneath his feet and he heard Mia scream. A loud crash filled the hallway and Saint was on the verge of racing headlong into the chaos when Ryland grabbed his arm, shaking his head.

It took him a moment to realize the voices were approaching, and he knew surprise would work to their advantage. Saint hurriedly re-covered the box then dropped behind the desk. Ryland was plastered to the dark wall like a shadow, completely undetectable, and Inda was crouched behind a chair.

Clutching the pistol tightly, Saint watched Carlisle yank Mia inside the room.

“You want to be with him so badly?” Carlisle snarled, shaking her so hard, Saint saw red. “Then be with him, you lying, cheating, deceitful whore!” With wild eyes, he turned and opened fire at the wooden box Saint had just escaped.

Chadwick Carlisle’s words signed his own death warrant. The bastard was already as good as dead.

The box broke apart as bullets shredded it and Mia screamed, dropping to her knees.

Saint waited for Chadwick to empty the gun then stood up, revealing his position, weapon trained on the man financing The Agency. Steady and focused, he didn’t blink as he growled, “Don’t fucking move.”

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