Page 12 of The Rise of Saint (The Sins of Saint 1)

“I said look at me. Breathe and look at me.”

My nostrils flared as I took a deep breath, the air burning its way into my lungs while I kept staring into the crystal blue of his eyes. The stone expression he wore so well was still there, but his gaze lacked the cruel glint it had all night as he stared back at me. Swirls of sapphires and slate held me captive while my heartbeat kept rising. I couldn’t look away even though I knew what a ruthless son of a bitch he was. The darkness lured me in while fear gripped me tightly in its claws. As seconds passed, I managed to breathe more easily while keeping my eyes on his.

The plane steadied until it no longer felt like we were even moving.

Saint relaxed back and held a hand up. “James, bring the girl a drink.”

“I don’t—”

“Yeah, you do.”

James handed me a glass, which I reluctantly took.

“Drink up,” Saint started. “It’s going to be a long flight.”

“A long flight to where?”

He grinned. “Somewhere no one can find you.”

7

Saint

It wasa nine-hour flight we had ahead of us, and having her sit across from me forced me to look at her. Her face. Her eyes. The way her jaw clenched as she bit the inside of her cheek. She never crossed her legs, not once, keeping her knees locked together. Was it a sign of a lack of confidence? A sign of discomfort? Of course, it was. She had no idea what was going on, or who I really was. She was on a plane and didn’t know the destination, wearing clothes that weren’t hers.

A tear trickled down her cheek, and I knew by the haunted look on her face she was thinking about him. For some reason, it irked me, like metal scratching against bone. “He doesn’t deserve your tears.”

She scoffed. “He wasn’t your friend.”

“And neither was he yours.”

Finally, she turned to me, dark circles framing her tired eyes. “Did he know?”

I knew what she was asking. From all the research I gathered about her, I knew she was a smart girl, and she could easily put two and two together.

I nodded. “He knew he was delivering you to me.”

Her bottom lip started to quiver, but she bit back her tears. “He knew all along? All those months we were friends?”

“Do you really think it a coincidence he literally ran into you on the subway, among hundreds of people? An act of fate?”

Long lashes weaved together as she closed her eyes, tears falling, a visible trail left over her layer of make-up. Knowing those tears were meant for that low-life son of a bitch was enough to bring my blood to a simmer in my veins.

I slammed the last of my drink down my throat, holding up the empty glass, indicating for a refill. “He played you, Mila. You were nothing but a paycheck for him. You should think about that before you waste another tear on that jackass.”

A soft whimper rolled off her lips, and she wiped at her cheek, not saying a word. I didn’t know why, but I fucking hated it. If that asshole was standing in front of me right now, I’d fucking shoot him again.

The buzz of bourbon mixed with the rush of white-hot anger made a flurry of harsh thoughts bombard my mind.

James returned with a fresh glass, my stare turning into a glare as I watched her sorrow-filled face. “Stop. Stop crying over him.”

Her heart-shaped lips pulled into a sad smile. “You think I’m crying over him?”

“It sure looks like it.”

“Shows you know nothing.”

I sat upright, moving to the edge of my seat, still clutching the tumbler between my fingers. “I know you’ve been passed from one foster home to the other your entire goddamn life. I know you’ve never had any real friends.”

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