Page 294 of Vicious Saint
“How about a big fat fucking no?” Saint retorts.
“Quit being a dick,” I mumble, low enough for Archer not to hear.
Saint may or may not be over my best friend’s latest investigation, but now that I persuaded him to drop it, he’s going to have to find a way to get over it.
Preferably without sewing Archer’s mouth shut like he suggested.
Saint responds with yet another one of his perfectly crafted shrugs, and I go back to finding a way to let Archer down easy.
“Maybe another night, Arch. Vic is in full panic mode.”
Don’t even get me started on his son...
Archer screws up his face. “But he’s already got you in a provisional.”
“A provisa-what-now?”
Saint’s urge to throttle Archer turns full on homicidal as he bares his teeth at him. “Nothing.”
Archer’s face falls, then he backpedals with a nervous chuckle. “Yeah…totally nothing.”
I look between them, squinty and ready to knock heads together. “One of you better spill before the bell rings.”
Which will be in the next sixty seconds.
Archer seems to have sewn his own damn lips, because they’re forming the straightest line I’ve ever seen. I’d be furious with the guy if I didn’t already hear Saint’s plan B involving his eyes.
So, I allow my best friend to live to see another day, and turn my fury on the chiseled marble to my left.
“Saint.” I grind his name through my teeth.
“Jimi,” he grinds back, still death glaring Archer.
“Easy way or hard way…” I demand, and I can tell by the rumble in Saint’s throat he knows exactly what my hard way willnotinclude.
His Royal Cock.
“Fucking fine, woman.” Saint groans, just in time for the bell to ring. “But we gotta do it now while nobody’s in the dorms.”
The trek back to the dorms played out similar to the club: with Saint furious, cursing, and dragging me along like a child being sent to timeout.
Except, timeout wasn’t in the middle of a crowded dance floor as he grinded his dick into my ass. It was in the middle of my room, with him pushing a button on his phone, and me watching as every entrance was sealed shut by metal plates appearing out of the ceiling.
“Ho-ly-shit.” I gawk around my dorm room-turned-panic room. “And here I thought Vic was extending an olive branch by putting me up in the fancy shmancy quarters.”
“Why would he be extending branches?” Saint asks as he organizes the fully stocked mini fridge.
That rose up from under the floorboards.
Running my hand along the steel front door, I tell him, “For his son being a fuckwad dickhead.”
“You really need to come up with better insults, Jimi. Or at least ones that include actual words.”
I ignore the grumpy attitude and continue my exploring over at the sealed windows. “So the entire room is made of reinforced steel behind the spackle?”
“Amongst other things,” Saint responds from right behind me, making me jump out of my damn skin. He twists open a bottle of Pepsi, then hands it to me. “It’s impenetrable, and the door only opens with voice recognition and a facial scanner.”
After a quick sip of soda, I ask, “So, like, what? You sing into it or some shit?”
