Page 383 of Vicious Saint
Before I even get the chance to react, Saint fires three shots, each one resulting in a body hitting the ground.
Shortly after, the gunfire above us comes to an end.
Minutes feel like hours as the two of us remain still, listening to a second round of even heavier footsteps descend the stairs. My guess? A lot more than three people.
“Get the fuck behind the desk, Jimi,” Saint grits out as the footsteps sound in the hallway.
“Sorry, Letterman…but the rule is…if you die, I die.”
“Look at you…being all poetic and shit.”
“A result of the torture…nothing more.”
Saint chuckles, but I can feel the fear vibrating off him.
“Are you scared?” I ask the stupidest question ever.
“I am. But only for you.”
I smile to myself, because even though Saint made mistakes that really hurt me, I have no doubt he means what he said.
Rising tears burn my throat as I tell him, “Love you stupid.”
“Love you stupid too, baby.”
The words, “Hate to be the one to break up a Hallmark moment, but your cavalry has arrived,” sounds from outside the door seconds before a Royals’ helmet gets tossed in the room.
Leviathan.
God, I’ve never been so relieved to hear his dumbass comments.
“I brought some frenemies with me like you asked, motherfucker, so if you’re gonna shoot, you better make sure it’s only at them.”
Saint lowers the gun, instructing Leviathan and whoever he’s with, to enter.
I don’t have to wonder long, because first inside is Dante Salvini, blood splattered all over his gray suit jacket.
Same goes for Leviathan and the six guys piling in behind him.
The look of rage on Dante’s face is terrifying, if not more than any of Saint’s or Vicious’ combined as he takes in my current state.
“You took-ehquite the beating, niece.”
I tilt my head in Boris’ direction. “Yeah, well, you should see the dead guy.”
Dante casts a glance at said dead guy, then asks me in Italian if I was the one who killed him.
So, in Italian, I explain to him that it was Saint.
“Shit…” Leviathan blows out a breath, returning the gun he’s holding behind his jeans. “Sorry, brother, but hearing your girl speak Italian will nevernotbe hot.”
Saint looks as though he wants to rescind his offer of not shooting his best friend when Dante says, “I have another present for you.”
I’m about to tell him unless it’s a pair of panties I don’t want it, but the two people bound by the wrists getting pushed inside the room shuts the thought down immediately.
A wave of electrical currents spring my insides to life as I watch Dante’s men shove Nikolai and Leerie onto their knees.
“Ti piace?” Dante asks if I like what he’s given me.
