Page 31 of Saint

“Why the interest? We’re just doing this as a means to an end, right? Why do you need to know me?”

I scoffed. “Saint, just because we have an agreement in place doesn’t mean we have to be strangers. I live with you. I see you every day. I’ve been intimate with you. There are at least forty-nine more weeks of being around you. What’s your opposition about me getting close to you?”

“I don’t have any opposition to it, Beauty. It’s just… Nobody’s ever cared to get to know me like that.”

Oh… Okay.

All this time, I thought he was being cagey about his background when it was really excessive loneliness he’d retreated into. I was curious to know what was the cause. After a few moments passed between us, with him looking absently out of the window, I asked,

“Are you close to your family, Saint?”

Family backgrounds could reveal a great deal about a person, including why they behaved the way they did.

Tilting his head, he palmed the crown of it. “I am, yeah. Why?”

I shrugged. “Just wondering. You’re kind of distant in a way. Like a hermit. Don’t you ever get lonely?”

“Alone and lonely are two very different things, Beauty. Don’t pity me. I’m alone. Not lonely. Not longing for comradery or the presence of another. Willful isolation.”

“Oh.”

His explanation gathered me up and sat me down. My misplaced pity would need adjusting. I held the belief that humans were social beings who craved the company of others.

“I like being alone. It gives me time to think about things that matter most to me.”

“Like?”

“Like the PH of the ocean, reef restoration, and the happiness of the killer whales.

“That’s interesting,” I chuckled. “So, marine biology. Is that why you live near the–”

“I’ll be right back, Tori,” he blurted, leaving me utterly confused by his abrupt departure.

Saint

From the moment my father revealed that Victoria wasn’t completely safe, I’d been on edge. I told myself it was because there were a million dollars on the line, but I was far too bright to believe a lie I told to myself. I didn’t tell her about the threat she faced from Javier’s people, not wanting to have her on alert and inadvertently do something stupid. In instances where someone was keeping a watchful eye on you, it was best to have them believe you were oblivious to their presence. Keeping her unaware was how I intended to keep her safe.

With my head on a swivel, it was difficult not to notice the patron who’d entered the sandwich shop. He sat a short distance from where Victoria and I were. His failure to place an order for a sandwich or a drink after several minutes sealed my attention, though he’d never entirely lost it. When the waitress revisited him a second time, and he declined, it elevated my internal red flag.

When he stood to head into the restroom, I was inclined to believe that he was working alongside someone else. Anyone operating solo would never withdraw their eyes off the intended target. His partner in the explicit crime would be handled at a later time. For now, his number was up next.

Stalking into the tiny restroom behind the man who’d positioned himself across from where Victoria and I were seated, I locked the door behind me as he turned to face me. The lights flickered, the stench of piss lingered, and a distant hum could be heard as the pipes worked tirelessly to clear waste from the sump pump system. Haste was the objective as my senses took a nosedive into hyperactivity.

“Who hired you?” I probed, training the gun I’d freed from behind my back to his head. He took a few steps, receding until his back was against the wall, and smeared a grin across his face.

“Don’t even try it,” I cautioned as his eyes darted around the restroom for something to use against me. “I’m not asking you again. My next inclination is to put you in a coma and stuff you in one of these stalls.”

“Jorge! Jorge wants the girl. He said she’s valuable. The bounty was partially paid for a hit on her, but your detail guy is too good,” he confessed.

Making a mental note to give Sam a raise, I still beat the hell out of the hitman and stuffed him in a stall. That motherfucker was heavy and caused me to break a sweat, too. Swiping the perspiration from the crown of my head, I sighed. Victoria had a hit on her because I’d failed to settle up when we returned to the States. Combing the man’s pockets, I located the phone he’d been using to contact the illusive Jorge Reed, Javier’s brother. Tapping the number, I pressed the phone to my ear and waited for the phone to connect.

“Digame,” he spoke, requesting information from the caller.

“Victoria is none of your concern, Jorge,” I informed, prepared to disconnect the line.

“Who is this?” he probed, stifling my next move.

“This is Angel Miller, and I’m informing you just as I’ve told your hired gun: Victoria is my wife. If you come after what’s mine, you risk the force of all the Millers raining down on you.”

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