Page 3 of Protected By Saint

I open my mouth, trying and failing to find the words I need to convince Buck to let me go. I stare at him, praying that this is some twisted prank, but I read the sick excitement in his eyes. God, I was doomed the second I walked into this office.

No, it seems my damnation came before that.

I was doomed the moment I met my roommate. The dress Natalie pushed me to wear and the makeup we spent hours perfecting—laughing in the mirror together when she smudged my lipstick—to the stilettos she let me borrow as if she was doing me a favor. All of it was her preparing me for the auction block.

I trusted her!

I trusted the wrong person, and now, my virginity is about to be auctioned off to a room full of strangers.

Chapter Two

Saint

“Whose fucking idea was it to wear a goddamn monkey suit!”

I glance over at my best friend and VP of the Steel Rebels MC to find him tugging at the collar of his shirt. He hasn’t stopped bitching and moaning since we set foot in here, but in all honesty, I can’t blame him. The suit is so fucking suffocating and goes against everything we believe as bikers. Even so, Knox knows damn well that this is the only way we’re going to blend in with these rich fuckers.

Everything about this place is pretentious. From the ornate chandeliers hanging gaudy crystals from the ceiling to the meticulously arranged seating designed more for show than comfort. The walls are adorned with art—if one can even call the portraits of half-naked women that.

The air is thick with the scent of expensive cologne and the faint smoke lingering from cigars. My eyes wander to the bar where a polished mahogany surface glimmers under the soft glow of the chandelier above.

There’s wait staff too, dressed in crisp uniforms and practiced smiles. Everything in this gentleman’s club is performative and more suffocating than the noose I have wrapped around my neck. There is no way we weren’t going to stand out if we’d walked in here in jeans and leather jackets. Standing out is the last thing we want if we’re going to catch the fucker that’s been hiding from us for weeks.

Derrick Halpin was stupid enough to mess with the Steel Rebels MC. He thought he could hide under our noses and get away with it. Hiring bodyguards and moving out of our territory and into a getting a secure building was enough to provide him a little protection from my men, but his days have always been numbered.

Tonight will be his last.

“Be on the lookout,” I tell my grumpy VP as I look around, fighting the urge to tear off my tie and toss it as far away as I can. I use my rage to motivate me to stay put and not expose ourselves as the outsiders that we are. We can’t afford to spook Derrick, or there will be chaos and innocent blood could be spilled in the process. The coward is not beyond using a human shield to protect himself from us.

“Are we even sure he’s here?” Knox asks, but I can tell he’s looking around as well. “I wouldn’t still be in this goddamn city if I were him, let alone in Steel Rebel territory.”

“My informant was sure that Derrick would be coming to the club to oversee whatever special event is happening tonight. Apparently, it’s worth risking his life for.”

“Your informant better be right, or I will be pissed off that I was forced to wear this goddamn suit.”

My informant knows better than to fuck with me. That is if he doesn’t want his body to be fished out of Lake Michigan tomorrow. Everyone in this city knows I am not to be played with, and yet, someone thought themselves smart enough to get away with exactly that. I don’t make idle threats; I deliver on them, and unlike the fucker we’re looking for, I don’t hide behind anyone.

“He’s here,” I say firmly, looking around the room that envelops me in a haze of dim light that could work in our favor or against us. Well, that will depend on who spots the other first. Either way, I am not leaving this place without Halpin. Even if I have to dig through a sea of bodies to get to him. He fucked with the wrong group of people.

There is a soft murmur of laughter and clicking glasses mixed with sultry notes of jazz, and I am about to suggest we break off to cover more ground when I spot a familiar head of salt and pepper hair a short distance from us.

Derrick Halpin is seated at the front, right before what looks like some kind of a stage with a lit cigar resting between his fingers. For someone who owes a dangerous band of criminals millions of dollars and his life, he sure as hell doesn’t look like it.

A sound forces my attention from the man to find Knox cracking his knuckles. He too seems to have spotted Derrick. But before one of us can step forward and go after the man, the jazz music abruptly stops, and for a second, I am sure someone has spotted us. I go to grab my gun, ready for the fight I assume is going to come, but instead, the stage lights up and a cheer breaks out.

“What the fuck!” Knox echoes my thoughts, and the cheer grows louder, almost too rowdy for men who are supposed to be distinguished members of the community. I recognize some prominent faces in the crowd—including the police superintendent—and they all seem excited about whatever the fuck is about to happen.

Is this the event my informant was talking about? Whatever the case, I’m not here to find out what boring old rich men do in their spare time. I’m sure it’s something equally eccentric and stupid.

The lights over the crowd dim a little more, directing focus to the stage, and I figure this would be the perfect opportunity to get the man we came here for without drawing much attention to ourselves, but we don’t get a chance to move before someone walks onto the stage, a man with hair as black and dull as his suit.

“Let’s get the rat and get the fuck out of here,” Knox says at my side, but for whatever reason, I stay rooted in place, an uneasy feeling churning in my gut. I stare as the man on the raised platform grabs a mike and clears his throat, a smile curving his lips as he looks into the dark crowd.

“I have something special for you tonight,” he says, and I can hear the excitement in his voice. “Normally, I’d save the best for last, but this surprise is too magnificent to wait. Untainted jewels are a rare find these days, but we have one on offer tonight. Who will be the lucky man to win her?”

“You say that every time; how special can she be?” calls out a voice from the crowd, followed by a murmur of agreement, but the man doesn’t seem affected by any of it.

“How about you see her for yourself?”

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