Page 246 of Vicious Saint
“As opposed to what? Letting you ruin your life by skinning the bitch alive?”
“What do you care what happens to me?”
He shrugs, once again averting his gaze. “We have enough drama to deal with.”
“You were quick to start some with the bartender, though.”
Saint cracks his neck but says nothing.
Hypocritical point proven.
“Why would you defend me?” This question comes from Theory, who is standing off to the side with Levi.
I step to face her. “Because I wasn’t lying when I told you I care about you, and that I didn’t want to see you get hurt.”
“I don’t know what to s-say,” she stutters, looking down at her boots.
Seems to run in the family.
“So say nothing, especially to Annalie. Ever again.”
Theory runs over, hugging me. “I’m really sorry for how I treated you, Hendrix. I was such an idiot.”
“You were hurt, I get it.”
“Doesn’t matter.” She unravels herself. “You didn’t know me at the time and have treated me with nothing but kindness ever since.” With a sharp tone, Theory adds, “And I never should’ve been told to begin with.”
Agitation rolls off of Saint in waves when his sister casts a tight glance at him. Tension builds between them, and then he turns his sights on me, but after a few seconds of studying, tension melts to resolve.
“Thank you, Jimi.”
I blink a few times, then swallow the surprise from his genuineness with an empty gulp.
Did Saint Lavell just show…appreciation?
There’s an unreadable look that passes in his eyes, and this time it’s me who can’t respond. In a verbal sense at least. All I manage is a half drawn smile at him, then return my attention to everyone else.
“Damn, Hendrix.” Levi whistles. “I knew you were feisty…but a Joker smile? That shit’s diabolical.”
“Yeah, well, the bitch deserved worse.”
And would’ve for sure gotten it ifsomeonekept his arms to himself.
“You did break her fingers. A couple of nails too,” Saint comments unceremoniously, making a rumble form in my chest I refuse to contain.
“Yeah, well, you broke Stevenson’s nose, at least Annalie deserved it.”
“Maybe, maybe not.”
How fast Saint goes from appreciation to judgment not only infuriates but devastates me once again. Feelings I know better than to let him see before I’m granted a damn apology.
My skin heats, and my stomach churns with how stupid I’m beginning to feel for defending him…and I’m not only referring to tonight.
“Boy, you’ve got some nerve.” I unbutton Carlo’s jacket, throwing it on the ground before marching toward the sound of Archer’s distant shouting.
There’s crunching of heavy footsteps from behind, growing louder by the second, and my pace barely picks up before Saint is grabbing hold of my wrist. “Jimi, wait.” He jogs to a stop in front of me, breathing heavy.
“For what?” I rip my arm away. “You to keep judging me in boredom?”
