Page 26 of Dirty Saint

“Sorry,” I said, turning her way.

“You’re doing it again.” She grinned.

“Doing what?”

“You’re staring at Saint. Are you ready to tell me how you know him?”

She had been asking all week at work, and I managed to blow it off each time she asked. I wasn’t ready to talk about my past with anyone.

“Who is he to you?” she asked, pressing for answers I wasn’t willing to give.

“He’s no one to me,” I spat a little too angrily.

I hadn’t meant to snap at Sadie, but the Koah Saint situation was sensitive.

“Liar liar plants for hire,” she sang, her voice slurring.

She giggled and hiccuped, making me shake my head and smile.

“Seriously,” she said, stiffening her shoulders and attempting to look sober. “He’s obviously someone to you.”

“He’s an arrogant prick; that’s what he is.”

She laughed and waved my words away. “Oh, honey, the sexy ones always are.”

I shook my head. “Nothing about Saint is sexy.”

She snorted, chuckling at my blatant lie. “You’re in denial, dear. I don’t know much, but I know you wouldn’t be eye-fucking him all night if you didn’t think he was hot.”

“I’m not eye-fucking him.”

“You totally are. It’s okay, girl. I eye-fuck him, too. He’s a sweet piece of Hawaiian pineapple, and every bitch here wants to taste him. Anyone who says otherwise is lying through their fucking teeth.”

“I don’t like pineapple,” I lied.

It was my favorite fruit, but I would never admit that now.

“It doesn’t matter.” She swatted at my words. “He’s a Son. The Sons of Sinister run The Strip. If we want to continue hanging out here, we should avoid them. Deal?”

“Deal,” I readily agreed.

The last thing I wanted to do was be anywhere near Koah Saint, but when I turned my attention back in his direction, I was surprised to see he was no longer with his crew. My eyes flew across the crowd, searching for his height and caramel-colored skin, and just as I turned my head to the right, I saw him.

He sliced through the crowd in my direction—a look of absolute death and destruction carved into his face. I straightened and tried to look unaffected, but it was too late.

We exchanged heated words one second, and he pressed me into the car behind me the next. The side-view mirror dug into my hip, but his large frame trapped me. No matter how much I wiggled to escape him, I couldn’t.

The ability to breathe left me, and I found myself quietly hyperventilating simultaneously. My body went stiff with anxiety at being touched by another human being, much less a large man. My ribs ached at how hard my heart beat into them, and I reached up to rub at my chest.

“Why the fuck are you here?” he growled into my face.

I turned to look away, but he grabbed my cheeks and forced me to look up at him. His fingers dug into my skin, and I shook my head, trying to get him to release me. The more I fought, the harder he squeezed. The rage in his eyes burned my skin.

“Let me go,” I growled.

His grip hurt, and being touched by him made my skin crawl.

“I thought I made it clear you weren’t welcome here,” he seethed.

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