Page 19 of Saint
“I have to go to the shop. I want you to come with me, so I can get your tattoo done.”
“I wouldn’t be putting you out or anything?”
I rolled on top of her, pushing her legs apart, and settling in between them. “No. I have a slot open this morning.” I ran my tongue over the seam of her lips. She moaned, her nails digging into the muscles of my back.
"If you keep doing that, there’s no way we’re gonna make it to your shop,” she said.
I pulled her lip between my teeth, slightly biting down on the flesh. “Gavin,” she murmured when I backed away, trailing kisses down the column of her slim neck, across her collarbone. Before I descended further down her body, excessive banging on the downstairs door and ringing of the doorbell filtered through the room.
“What the hell!”
I rolled off her. “You expecting anybody?”
“No.” She gazed at the wall above a vanity on the far wall. “Especially, not at seven thirty in the morning.”
She groaned, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. She slid on open-toe black slippers, stood, and covered herself in a large black silk robe. While she walked out of the bedroom, I went into the bathroom, pissed, and washed my hands. When I walked back into the bedroom, I heard arguing. I rushed to get dressed. I didn’t know what the hell was going on, but Oya sounded angry, then panicked.
Rushing out of her bedroom, and down the stairs, my vision turned red. Thomas Williams tightly gripped Oya’s arm. His face was red, and inches from hers. While she wasn’t backing down from him, he had at least fifty pounds on her and towered over her. She tried to slap him, but he caught her wrist.
“Hey!” I yelled, stalking closer to them. He dropped her arms, glaring at me over her head. “What the fuck do you think you're doing, motherfucker?”
“It’s fine, Gavin. Thomas was just leaving.”
“I’m not going any fucking where,” he sneered, never taking his eyes off me. “And who the hell are you and what are you doing in my fucking house with my wife?”
My jeans hung low on my hips and my feet were bare. His eyes flickered down to my shirtless chest, where Sin City MC was tattooed across it before going back to my face. Before I could answer Oya stalked towards the door, then opened it.
“Who he is and what he’s doing here is none of your damn business. This is my damn house, Thomas. Not yours! Now if you don’t leave now, I’m calling the cops.”
Thomas Williams’ attention jerked towards her. “And tell them what Oya? Do you think they will believe you?” He laughed. “You quickly forget, who I am.”
“Get out, Thomas! I’m not going to tell you again.”
He looked between me and her, then focused back on me. “You haven’t heard the last of me.” He pointed at me. “Stay away from my wife or I’m coming after you and your club.”
I stepped in front of him, standing mere inches from his face. “Sinners don’t take kindly to threats, Congressman. So, I suggest you choose your next steps and words wisely.”
He took a step back, then turned on his heels. “This isn’t over!” he shouted over his shoulder as Oya slammed the door behind him as he left.
She leaned against the closed door with her eyes closed. I slowly walked towards her and checked her wrists and arms for bruises. “I’m fine.” I kissed her forehead when she looked into my eyes. “You shouldn’t make an enemy of him,” she warned.
“I’m a Sinner, Oya. He shouldn’t make an enemy of me.”
6
Clubhouse
I sat in one of the chairs opposite King while Reaper sat to my left in the clubhouse office. I hated bringing this to them, but I didn’t have a choice. I had a run-in with a sitting congressman. A congressman who was in bed with the Russians and the Italians. This shit could come back on the club.
“Before you blow your fucking top, I’m going to start by saying it couldn’t be avoided.” I planted my forearms on my thighs. “If it could have, I would have.”
King looked at me impatiently. I understood he was under pressure. We were trying to keep two women safe from the Bianchi Syndicate. While I hated to add to that pressure, it couldn’t be helped.
“Why don’t you start from the beginning,” Reaper said. “Then we’ll go from there.”
“I met somebody.”
“And that’s a problem?” King asked as he leaned back in his office chair.
