Page 5 of Broken Saint

However, when she adjusted on that damned leather seat and turned to take in the rest of the room, I saw her eyes land on me and take me in. The jolt from that simple look made my next move solidify.

I might be lost and on my way to hell, but damned if I wasn't going to take her with me.

Tonight, I was going to drink her in and drown. Fuck the code I was about to violate.

That woman was about to be mine.

First, I needed to make my move. She wouldn't be here more than thirty minutes, and it would be a fraction of that time before men began approaching. I didn't want to watch that. The mood I was in tonight, it might not bode well for them.

I stood up, threw a few bills on the table, and walked across the crowded bar. The Sinclair might be a bit more upscale than the average casino on the Strip, but it was still on the Strip, giving it a steady stream of customers who came and went at all hours of the night.

For a public person like her, it had to be part of what drew her here. She could people watch and collect content for her social media to her heart's content. Yes, I had stalked her. From the first night I'd seen her, I'd been curious to know everything I could. The more the better.

I settled into the seat next to hers, and I nearly groaned when the scent of vanilla hit me. Vanilla and something else...whatever it was, it gave off dark vibes and it made my entire body tighten up.

Thank fuck I was sitting at a bar and not standing in front of her, so I could hide my traitorous dick that had gone from a solid half-hard chub to fucking stone.

I motioned to the bartender, "I'll take a Guinness when you get a chance."

"We don't have that on tap. Is that okay?"

"Sure." I didn't care. The quality of beer was the last thing I had on my mind.

"You got it," he said, before turning to the waitress who'd come up behind him.

I'd decided, no more scotch tonight. Whatever happened next, I wanted to be fully lucid for it. If I was going to make a bad decision there'd be nothing to blame but my own poor choices. I didn't believe in making excuses or bullshitting my way through any consequences.

I'd take whatever came my way, and fuck everything else.

I accepted the beer and chilled glass set in front of me a few minutes later and I slowly poured it into the glass. The swirl of dark liquid and cream-colored foam mesmerized me for a moment. Neither of us had said anything yet, but I got the impression she was waiting for it.

As far as I was concerned, the darkness I sensed could have represented either one of us, but a little more me than her I'd guess. I might be a federal agent, but my soul was far from clean. From a young age, I'd learned the hard way—to get things done, you often had to ride outside the lines. And boy did I.

I'd been raised by my father, who was the co-president of an outlaw motorcycle club, and my mother, who loved two men and refused to decide between them. That had eventually led to her death. My life at home had gone downhill long before that, but that had been the final nail in the coffin, so to say, on ever having a normal life. In other words, I lived in what I considered a constant darkness.

One man went to jail, while the other buried his head in the sand so deep, he could no longer see up.

Anger, fear, and resentment were my childhood companions, and although my father thought I was some sort of Boy Scout, he couldn't have been more wrong.

I shook my head and cleared my thoughts of the past. They had no business here. As I took the first sip, and the dark beer mixed with the creamy foam, I again thought of her. She had light and dark in her as well. I’d seen it more than once in her eyes.

And there was something about that which drew me like a moth to an irresistible flame. I knew it would burn me in the end, but in the moment, I didn't fucking care.

I had to know more about her.

That was the difference in her sweet scent. I could easily detect the vanilla at first, but it was the darker, earthier musk underneath that lingered and made me need to solve the puzzle. I wanted more of whatever it was, and tonight would be the night I got my first taste.

My gut told me it would be the best fucking thing in the world, and I would never be the same again.

However, before I could start a conversation, another woman came up to the bar and sat on the other side of Nova. They greeted each other excitedly and then the other woman proceeded to order food to go.

Zia. That was her name. She was reportedly about to open a restaurant here in The Sinclair, but more important to me, I’d seen her with Vincent Cabrini, the man I had originally tagged as my diamond thief, and presumed they were dating.

They chatted and while I didn’t intentionally listen in on their conversation, it was hard not to hear at least some of it. It sounded like they were close. When Zia’s gaze turned to me and she whispered toward Nova, I inwardly smiled. I guess my attention had not gone unnoticed.

Moments later, Zia left with what looked like Vincent’s driver, and for a moment I considered following them. Her posture had grown stiff, and she didn’t look one hundred percent comfortable, but Nova was smiling after her friend so I was going to assume I didn’t have a situation on my hands. At least not with Zia. Nova, however? I had no intention of letting her get away…

I turned to her, and our eyes met again. The electric shock from across the room was nothing compared to the impact I felt now. I'd just been hit with the full force of a ninety mile per hour bullet straight to the heart.

And when she smiled...

I realized this moment might also be the beginning of the end.

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