Page 63 of Property of Saint

“I’d like to learn what she can teach me,” Genie states simply.

We’re back to Tempest, and I’ve no idea how he’ll vote. He gives a heavy sigh. “We’ve taken her old life from her, and as longas Saint can satisfy her this new one is what she wants, I don’t see a problem with him taking her on. As long as,” he stops, gives me a lingering glance, “the VP can control her, and makes sure she doesn’t go running back to her old life.”

Now it’s down to Bullseye, my prez. I have to admit my eyes are pleading when I direct them his way. He stoically looks at every brother except for me, drawing in a deep breath before making a pronouncement. My heart almost stops beating as I wait for his answer.

I watch as he lifts the gavel, then watch it fall as if he’s going to issue a death sentence, barely daring to breathe as it hits the table.

“So voted. Pippa is Saint’s ol’ lady.”

My head drops down into my hands, the release of tension so great I feel dizzy as my blood pressure rapidly drops back to a more normal level. I’m not even sure if I tried to stand, whether my legs would support me.

I hear chairs scraping as brothers get to their feet and leave the meeting. Some slap their hands on my back in passing, a couple say something, but the words don’t compute, the rushing sound in my ears overwhelms them.

I don’t know how long it is before I come back to my senses, realising the thing that I should have done first, is what so far, I haven’t made a move to do.Find Pippa and tell her.

“Starting to think the vote didn’t go the way you wanted.” Bullseye’s deep voice breaks through the fog. “You want me to call the brothers back in?”

“What? No!” I glare at my prez. “I’m shocked, is all. You didn’t think about warning me what you were going to do?”

Unrepentant he shrugs. “I read the room, Brother. Grabbed the moment. Had a suspicion this was how it was going to go down. Didn’t seem any point in drawing things out, and as for you? Well, now you and Pippa can move on with your lives.”

“She’ll never betray us.” My voice is as firm as I can make it.

Bullseye stands, leans over me and snarls, “See that she doesn’t. She’s your woman and your responsibility now.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

PHILLIPA

The meeting’s been going on for a while, and I’ve nothing to do but sit here and twirl my fingers. I’m torn between taking advantage of the bar and getting drunk or keeping my wits about me. I know that my fate’s being decided right now, and there’s nothing I can do about the outcome. It’s out of Saint’s hands, and obviously out of mine. Whatever the decision, nothing I could say or do would change it.

This must be what it’s like to be in front of judge and jury, waiting for the verdict, especially the innocent man or woman, who knows all the closing statements have been made, and their life hangs on the opinions of strangers.

The men passing judgement on me behind the closed doors have all had a chance to get to know me. I could drive myself crazy, mentally going through them one by one, and wondering if any of them would step up to save me or do they all think I’m such a big risk to the club, that the easiest way is the route best taken.

“Double whiskey.” The words coming out of my mouth almost take me by surprise, as if my subconscious has made its decision on my behalf.

Heathen raises a brow but fulfils my demand without comment.

I drink the spirit fast, but it’s no magic potion. It has no effect on slowing my rapid beating heart, nor stops my mind racing. It’s not fair that I’ve found the man it feels I’ve been searching for all my life, in the one place I should never have been looking.

Will they let us say a proper goodbye? Or will the sentence be carried out immediately? Will I be stoic and quiet, or will I plead and beg for my life?

The prospect, clearly having taken pity on me, raises the bottle in front of my face. But I shake my head. While on one hand, getting rip-roaring drunk may be one way of facing what’s coming, on the other, staying sober to make the most of what could be the remaining hours, or just minutes of my life, seems a more sensible choice.

I’m staring straight ahead, my eyes unfocused, seeing nothing, lost in my head when the loud sound of the doors banging open makes me jump. Dreading turning around, but unable to resist getting some hint of the outcome of their deliberations, I spin and take in the faces of the men walking in my direction, noticing immediately Saint’s not with them.

Oh fuck.

None of them smile at me, some don’t even meet my eye. All hope I had slips away. There’s not even a hint of dissent in any of their faces. Whatever the decision, it seems it was unanimous.

They start circling around me, as they all demand drinks from Heathen who rushes to comply as fast as possible. Stuck in their midst, I start to feel claustrophobic, especially when Freak puts his hand on my shoulder, leans in and confides, “Sucks to be you.”

I use my poker face, his words cementing my negative thoughts, while I strain to see through the men mingling around, waiting for the one man I do want to see.Why hasn’t he come out? Can’t he face me?Then, the realisation hits, I might never see him again. It would probably be as hard for him to say goodbye as it will for me.

Saint wouldn’t let me face this alone.

But as the minutes tick by, that’s what I come to believe.

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