Page 29 of The Saint

His nose broke and he screamed. He reached for my ankle and tugged, sending me to the floor so he could crawl on top of me. He was much older than me but could still pack a punch. He hit me in the face with a closed fist. He grabbed me by the neck and slammed the back of my head into the floor. “Pompous. Arrogant. Son of a bitch.” He punched me again.

My head turned, and I saw stars for a second, the lights turning off in my eyes.

He pulled his gun but didn’t have the chance to point it at me.

I twisted his arm and pointed it into his chest, and then I squeezed the trigger, all of it happening in a split second.

He could have tried to get rid of the gun so I couldn’t use it against him. Or he could have been prepared to shoot me right there, in the fucking head, and that was the reason he’d come in the first place.

But now I would never know—because he was dead.

He went limp against me, his eyes shifting away before they went still.

I rolled him off me, the gun dropping to the floor because his grip had died with him.

I lay there, seeing the blood pool on the floor and inch closer to me until it absorbed into my clothes and coated my flesh. I lay there in my father’s blood, my eyes full of tears, not from what I’d done, but because of how this had ended.

He hadn’t come here to reconcile.

He’d come to kill me.

8

BASTIEN

I drove us to one of the warehouses outside the city, a couple miles from the international airport. I rarely drove myself, so my collection of cars seemed wholly unnecessary. I’d picked out the Bugatti, custom-made with bulletproof windows and doors, and drove the two of us out of the city.

Our conversation in the bathtub last night had seemed to chase away her fear, so even though I’d confessed I was a coldhearted killer, at least some good had come out of it. Baths still weren’t my thing, even with a sexy and soapy lady across from me. It was too hot, and I felt like I was boiling. But I did it for her, wanting her to get back something an asshole had taken from her.

She’d told me her feelings for me hadn’t changed despite my secret, and despite the fact that she’d been quiet ever since, I believed her. She had no context for the situation because I didn’t explain it to her. I’d never told Luca either. He probably assumed I’d hunted down my father out of spite and revenge, but it was actually the other way around.

We pulled past the gates and into the warehouse compound, which looked quiet and abandoned since there were only twocars there. The guys hid their cars in the hangar on the property across the road, completely out of sight.

I pulled into a spot and killed the engine.

She looked around, stared at the steel fence and the barbed wire on top. “It looks like a prison.”

“It used to be a prison.” A prison where girls were kept like chickens in a coop. I got out of the car first, and then she followed, wearing a thick coat that was zipped up to her chin because it was a cold morning.

I pounded on the rusty door then looked up into the camera in the corner.

Fleur stayed behind me, arms crossed over her chest.

The bolts and locks turned, and then the door opened. The guy nodded at me, clearly knowing who I was even though I couldn’t remember his name.

“Come on, sweetheart.” I walked in first, seeing the guys working at the tables, measuring the product before placing it into their airtight containers to maintain the quality. None of them looked up from their work.

Fleur came to my side and surveyed the scene, wearing her best poker face.

I nodded to the opposite side of the room. “This way.” I crossed into the other area where a long table was set up, where I usually sat with Luca when we crunched numbers. Guns, ammunition, and magazines were mounted on the walls.

She stood there, arms crossed over her chest, and she swept her eyes across the display of weapons.

“That room used to be full of underage girls working fourteen-hour days.”

Her eyes came back to me. “Why are we here?”

I walked to the wall and grabbed a couple guns, a Glock, a pistol, a shotgun, and a rifle. I came back to the table and laid them out, along with the clips and the bullets. “Need to teach you a couple things.”

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