Page 169 of Vicious Saint
“Even if I do, it won’t stop Theory from worshipping at Hendrix’s altar.”
“Theory will make friends here, she’ll keep busy.”
“Are you blind? Deaf? Both? You know how hard it is for her to make friends. Almost as hard as she’s trying to be sister besties with Hendrix.”
“Gaining love for a sister is good for her.”
“Not when said fucking sister has ties to the Salvinis.”
My father scrubs his face, because he knows I’m right. Theory is not only the type to cling, but she’s the type to need to feel wanted. As much as she tries to deny it.
Being abandoned by her mother will do that to a girl.
“I’d consider sending her away to live with my brother.”
“Absolutely not. Travis can barely keep his daughters under control.”
With a shrug and shake of his head he responds, “Then you need to get on board.”
Knowing most times my father’s heart gets in the way of his brains and common sense, I decide it’s best to let this shit go to make sure Theory and Hendrix are kept safe on my terms.
“I’ll figure it out.”
“Good.” He lets out a breath of relief. “But do so with Carlo’s help.”
“Tell me who he is, then I’ll decide.”
“Who do you think he is, Saint? C’mon. I doubt you need me to tell you who sent him.”
“How can all of this shit be because of a hit that took place eighteen years ago?”
A hit so meaningless it wasn’t even covered by the media. I know because I did a night’s worth of digging.
“Where are we on that promise?” he questions, arms folded.
I’m stuck between countless rocks and a hard place, so what choice do I really have but to give him my word to keep quiet?
“This conversation stays between us, alright?”
With that, my father picks up the folder labeled M, holds it out, and says, “Then I can tell you the hit is the least of our problems.”
23
Hendrix
Tiny rivulets of pleasure flow through me, stirring me awake or deeper into a dream.
“Mhmm...” I reach down, feeling thick strands of Saint’s hair brushing through my fingers.
So soft and real.
With a needy tug, I roll my hips, resulting in a masculine groan so loud my eyelids spring open, finding myself exactly where I fell asleep. Lavell mansion, lights off in my room. But now with Saint’s head between my legs, and the rest of him taking up the lower half of the bed.
“What are you—?”
“Shhhh…”
He does that thing I used to hate but now love, then nibbles a line up my inner thigh.
