Page 18 of Protected By Saint

Motorcycle club patches. I can’t quite make out the lettering from the window, but I don’t know what to do with this knowledge. Or how to feel about it. There are tons of small motorcycle clubs in the Chicago, and most of them are harmless, I think. Maybe these guys belong to one of those.

Saint steps away from the bike and starts walking toward the house. I back up a step, my heart racing, but for an entirely different reason now. The door opens before I can gather my thoughts, and standing there in all his glory is the most gorgeous man I have ever seen. He looks even more rugged and imposing than he did in the suit he wore last night.

I realize suddenly that Saint is still practically a stranger, a man I know nothing about, and yet I gave him my heart and body.

There is heat in those intense blue eyes when he spots me. He gives me a once over, his eyes lingering on my pebbling nipples poking at the fabric of the t-shirt, and I fight the urge to cover myself. I shuffle my feet nervously, and I can feel my core pulsing needily at the way he traces his eyes over my body. For a minute, I am transported to last night when we were both naked and touching each other, and I can tell he’s thinking of the same thing as his nostrils flare and desire takes root in his expression.

“You’re up,” he says, walking fully into the house and kicking the door closed behind him before crossing over to me. “How are you feeling?”

“F-feeling? About what? Nothing, I’m not feeling anything,” I stammer, flustered as he stops in front of me, but a bark of laughter rudely brings me back to reality, reminding me of our company. Right, the man in the kitchen sent by Saint to babysit me.

Saint’s eyes cross from mine to the man I assume is now standing behind me. I turn around to find the giant leaning against the wall, watching us with amusement. “So, this is the girl who has been making you spiral out of control? I couldn’t make her out clearly from the stage last night.”

“Knox!” Saint warns from behind me, his voice carrying enough threat in that single word to send a chill running down my back, but the other man doesn’t seem fazed. I imagine if the two got into a fight, they’d probably bring down the house along with them.

“Hey, you called me here to guard buttercup. What’s wrong with asking questions?”

“Jade,” I hiss, fighting the urge to stomp my foot.

“Right,” he laughs. “Speaking of which, you never did say how you ended up on stage at the club in the first place.”

I glare at the man, my dislike growing, but I figure I might as well tell the story with Saint here. I sigh, but when a hand settles over my shoulder, I feel myself pulled back against the man and lean into his warmth.

“I was there for an interview.”

Knox narrows his eyes. “To do what?”

“Is Knox short for obnoxious? Why don’t you let me tell my story without interrupting?” I snap, earning a snort from Saint and a shocked look from Knox.

After a beat, he smirks and points at me. “I like you,” he says, then gestures for me to carry on telling the story.

“Okay so, I’ve been looking for a part-time job. One that would not really get in the way of my college studies. I’m an art history major and was looking for a way to make money when I don’t have classes,” I say, recalling telling these exact details to Natalie. “My roommate suggested working as a server at a club. I was hesitant at first, but she pointed out that working at night wouldn’t interfere with my studies and the hours would be flexible. She told me she knew a place that was hiring and could get me an interview.”

“She set you up,” Saint grits out from behind me, and I can feel his body grow tense.

“Yes,” I say with a sad nod, leaning fully on Saint as my heart aches afresh with the memory of the betrayal. “She told me she knew the manager of the club and that she’d put in a good word for me. I went there thinking I was interviewing to be waitstaff.”

“Then what happened?” Knox asks, his tone softer than I’ve heard it so far, and the humor has died from his expression. He looks far scarier when he’s serious than he did moments ago.

“The manager Buck laughed in my face when I said that I was there to interview for a server job. Said they were not looking for waitstaff, but when I tried to leave…” I swallow, a chill running down my spine at the memory of the fear I felt at that moment, staring at a man with dead eyes. “He wouldn’t let me go. He had a guard at the door to stop me from leaving. He said that Natalie was the one who’d sent me to him, and I was going to make him a lot of money. He threatened me with a gun, and I thought…”

Saint’s grip on my shoulder tightens. “What?”

I laugh sardonically as I recall my silly naive thoughts during the scariest moments of my life. “I thought that if I went on stage, the men in the crowd would be appalled. That they would riot at the thought of a human auction, but everyone was so excited.”

They were practically jumping in their seats, tossing around insane amounts of money during the bidding. In that moment, I’d felt helpless. More helpless than I’d felt when Buck had placed a gun to my temple and threatened to shoot me if I caused a scene.

“Those fuckers!” Knox growls, his eyes filled with rage, and in that second, I place him. Something about Knox looked familiar, but I wasn’t sure where I had seen him.

“You were there last night too,” I say, briefly recalling spotting him standing next to Saint. “Why were you at the club?” I turn around to look at Saint, and I can imagine the hurt in my expression. “Were you there for the auction?”

“No,” Saint shakes his head, a muscle jumping in his cheek. “We were there for someone else. We had no idea an auction would be happening.”

I believe him.

After everything I’ve been through, I can’t believe I have it in me to trust, but when it comes to this man, I find it hard to doubt anything he tells me.

“This roommate of yours,” Knox’s voice pulls my attention back to him. “Do you think this is the first time she’s done this sort of thing?”

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