Page 64 of Property of Saint

These bikers, some of which I thought were becoming friends, are taking their beers from Heathen, and drinking them silently, some taking them away, Rattler and Paint going over to set up the balls for a game of pool.

Who’s going to officially tell me?

Should I run- or rather – hop to the door and try and escape?

Just when I’m almost desperate enough to try it, the doors bang open for a second time. Footsteps sound, and my foolish heart leaps as I watch Saint come into sight.Why the fuck is he smiling?

I keep my eyes trained on him as he approaches. As soon as he’s within reach, he pulls me to him, his mouth comes down on mine and he kisses me, thoroughly. When he pulls away, he says, “You’re fuckin’ mine, my ol’ lady.”

His words don’t make any sense.

He backs away, though still keeps hold of my arms, and stares into my face. “What’s wrong, darlin’? I thought you’d be pleased.”

Pleased I’m about to be unalived?Surely, he wouldn’t be happy if… “But the vote went the wrong way.”

His brows rise to his hairline. “What the fuck are you talking about? They voted you in as our first official ol’ lady.”

My eyes gradually widen as his words sink in; it takes me a second to believe him. Then I see red. Grabbing my crutch I pushhim away and get down off the stool. Banging the crutch on the floor loudly, I scream out, “Bastards! Motherfuckers!”

As roars of laughter erupt all around me, I spy my target, and approach him from behind, he’s chortling so loud he doesn’t see me coming. Using my crutch, I aim perfectly and sweep his legs out from under him. When he crashes to the floor, ignoring my injuries I come down on top of him, my knee into the middle of his back, and grab hold of one of his arms pulling it high between his shoulder blades.

“You’re the worst asshole of them all,” I yell at him, yanking his arm, pleased to be rewarded by his squeak of pain.

“Get off me,” he’s trying to unseat me, but I’ve got him at a disadvantage, if he doesn’t want a broken bone, there’s not much he can do. Beneath me his body is still shaking with laughter. Which annoys me and tempts me to do the worst I can.Break his fucking arm.

He must realise the danger he’s in, as he bangs his free hand against the floor. “I submit,” he cries, but still punctuates it with a chuckle.

Saint’s deep voice sounds from behind me, “Let him up, feisty woman of mine.”

“You didn’t hear what he said to me.” I stay where I am.

Freak snort laughs. “All I said was, it sucks to be you.”

“You let me believe the vote had gone against me,” I cry out. Those few moments had been the most traumatic of my life.

His bellowed chuckle almost throws me off his back. “Well, instead of a quick death, you’re shackled to my brother forever. That’s gotta suck. That’s what I meant.”

Saint takes hold of my arm, gently forcing me to let go of Freak’s, then lifts me off him, lets me get my balance, then hands me my crutch. While he’s doing this, Freak has pulled himself off the floor, ruefully circling his arm as if to get feeling back into it.

“You okay?” Saint asks, softly. When I nod, yes, he turns to the enforcer, pulls back his arm, and lets his fist fly. Not expecting it, Freak’s back down on the floor, his hands blotting the blood coming from his nose.

I wait for him to retaliate at my man, but he doesn’t, instead he stares Saint in the eye, and admits, “Guess I deserve that, Brother.”

Around me, men are still chuckling, at me, or Freak, it doesn’t really matter. And when Tempest steps up, puts a shot glass into my hand, saying, “Welcome to the family,” it’s hard to hold on to my anger.

These men are used to hazing each other. Guess I’m part of that now. In truth, I’ve felt like I’ve been living on borrowed time for days, and the adrenaline I’d worked up while waiting for their meeting to end, is draining from me now. I want one thing, and one thing only.

I turn to my man quietly. “Take me to bed.”

I don’t have to ask twice as he sweeps me off my feet and starts carrying me in the style to which I’ve become accustomed, and, accompanied by wolf whistles and lewd suggestions, he moves toward the stairs.

I’m safe. I’m here to stay.I repeat the mantra as Saint takes each step carefully so as not to jar my broken leg. After all the tension of the last few days, and the ratcheting up of the stress I felt earlier, I feel lightheaded. In exchange for my life, I’ve come over to the dark side. And I don’t feel one regret.

Saint pauses to open the door to his room, then gently lies me on the bed. I expect him to rip off my clothes, or instruct me to get naked, but instead he sits, resting his head into his hands, and taking in deep breaths. When I place my hand on his arm, I’m surprised to find that he’s trembling.

“Saint?”

A shuddering intake of air, then, he whispers, “I thought I was going to lose you. I thought that was why Bullseye had brought forward the vote.” He grabs hold of my hand and squeezes my fingers tightly. “I’d have followed you to heaven or hell, or wherever you were going. I wouldn’t have been able to let you go.” His eyes glaze. “I went through a myriad of emotions, waiting as each brother eked their answer out.” I nod, knowing exactly how he was feeling, like how they acted as if the vote had gone sideways before he came out.

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