Page 6 of No Saint

“Over my dead body,” she spits, forcing the child further behind, despite the wailing coming from the boy.

I cross the space between us, levelling my gun and resting the barrel between her eyes. She sucks in a breath, but it isn’t fear that causes her stutter but pure hatred as she glares up at me.

“La morte non viene per te oggi, Amelia,” I murmur the words, watching her brow draw down against the gun in confusion at the language. She doesn’t stand a chance at reacting before I swing the butt of the gun and land it against her temple, knocking her unconscious. “Death will not come for you today.” I repeat in English, staring down at her body sprawled on the floor before drawing my eyes to the child. He weeps uncontrollably, eyes swollen, face red and wet. Leaning down, I pluck him from the ground, holding him as I scan over his face, seeing all the Saint characteristics in his amber eyes and dark hair. He belonged to me now and the mother… she was mine now too.

I spend a few minutes calming the child, the tiny human cradled in my arms as I gently rock him back and forth. He’d cried enough to make himself tired, but he was wary, unsure, even as small as he is, he understood the dangers of strangers which was reassuring at least. I hadn’t much experience with children, but I’d seen them dealt with plenty of times. It was easy really, especially when calmed enough for his eyes to close and for him to relax, falling asleep. I lay him down on the small bed in the centre of the room before I pull out the phone and call Asher. He picks up on the first ring.

“Yeah?”

I rattle off Amelia’s address, “Get here now. You’ve got ten minutes.”

I hang up, not caring whether he was in the middle of something or not. He would be the better option of the two brothers to deal with this mess should the mother wake up. Atlas was a heartless son of a bitch at the best of times.

He was much like me in the sense but where I suppose I had some sense of feeling, my half brother lacked any of it.

I crouch down at the side of the mother, Amelia, and move some of her dark hair from her face. A thin trail of blood rolls down the side of her face where I hit her, but she remains out cold, sprawled across the floor. Gently, I move her limbs and slide her onto her back before stepping away and rummaging through her drawers within the house until I come across duct tape. I bring her wrists around the front of her body before I wrap the tape around her hands, holding them together on her stomach. I do the same on her ankles.

She wore only a small pair of shorts and a large t-shirt that hid her tiny frame. She was stunning, in a way that drew the eye and held it. Pouty dusty pink lips and olive toned skin, deep brunette locks that fell in waves around her face. There was a light dusting of freckles across her nose, the color of them almost identical to the hue of her skin but this close I could see the varying colors across her face. I gently grip her chin, forcing her head up right and keeping it there so I can study her harder.

Very pretty.

The tips of my fingers push against her bottom lip, pushing into the warm plump flesh before I let my hand trail down the front of her throat. The delicate lines of her contradict the woman I just faced.

Sighing, I drop my hand and do a quick check on the kid before I move to the window, watching for the SUV Asher will come in. It’s five minutes later I spot the lights of the vehicle cutting through the rain and pulling to a stop next to my car parked at the back.

He climbs out, jogging across the lot and disappears into the building. I have no need to open the door for him.

“Gabriel?” He calls, his weapon in front of him, aimed at the ground but ready to be used.

“Put it away,” I order, coming to face him in front of the door that hides the two sleeping bodies inside. I’d already found her car keys in a bowl in the kitchen so I throw them over to him, “Go out to the chevy and take the car seat from the back, fit it into the back of mine.”

“Excuse me?”

I cock a brow, patience slipping, “Is there a problem?”

He lifts his hands in surrender and does as I ask before coming back through, shaking the water from his hair like a dog. I nod and push the door open, showing the kid first, still sleeping on the bed. “Pack a bag of the kid’s things, clothes, diapers, whatever you can find.”

“Shit, Gabriel,” Asher breathes.

“Asher!” I demand.

He jumps into action while I walk over to the bed, glancing down to the woman still unconscious at the side of the bed. When Asher is complete, I grimace at how small the bag is even though I can see the drawers and wardrobe are empty of all belongings. I hand him the child.

He recoils.

I quirk a brow, “It’s a baby not a snake.”

“I’m not scared of snakes.”

I roll my eyes, “Take it.”

Curling his lip and hoisting that bag higher on his shoulder, he takes the child from me, cradling him stiffly, “Where his mo–” his words cut off as I lean down and slip one arm beneath her knees, the other under her waist and haul her from the ground. Her head rolls back, neck bent at an awkward angle that would leave her neck muscles aching in the morning.

He doesn’t question it. Doesn’t ask why she’s coming when that was never the plan. He knew better and I had no idea what the fuck I was going to do with her anyway.

The other residents remain inside their homes, knowing they have no place to intervene here. I take her to the car, waiting as Asher straps the kid into the back and then I hand the woman over. “Place her in the back of the SUV. Make sure she remains restrained, if she wakes, she’ll have your throat.”

He scoffs but I shake my head, part of me hoping he bears witness to a mother’s wrath.

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