Page 7 of Saint Valentine

“Saint. What do my friends have to do with you, Valentines?”

I kept my eyes locked on him, refusing to look away—not even once, not even for a moment to check on Jason and Isabella. They were whimpering, but I couldn't afford to lose focus.

“He stole from my family,” he said flatly. “He has to die, and the girl too. Since she saw me. No loose ends.”

“What about me, Saint?” I asked, narrowing my eyes. “You going to kill me too? I know who you are.”

His head tilted slightly, like the question surprised him. He shook his head slowly.

“I would never harm a hair on your pretty little head. And I won’t have to. You know the rules. You won’t talk. If I kill him and leave her alive, she most likely will. Look at her. Even after he caused her to lose her life, she’s staring at him with love in her eyes.”

He spat like the very idea tasted bad in his mouth.

Isabella whimpered but stayed quiet otherwise.

I didn’t take my eyes off Saint. I swallowed, my fingers tightening on the gun. I didn’t have to see her to know he was right—she would talk.

“What if I just shoot you right now?” I asked.

He didn’t answer at first. He didn’t even blink.

“You won’t,” he said, sounding confident.

It was cute that he had such faith in a girl he’d only met twice as a child.

Saint suddenly let out a low whistle. The smile on his face was downright evil.

Three men suddenly came from the back of the small house, filling the room with their dangerous presence. The click of their weapons made the air feel thicker. They all raised their guns, aiming them at me.

I blew out a breath and steadied my hand.

I felt the press of a gun at the back of my head. One of Saint’s men was behind me.

I hadn’t paid enough attention to my surroundings.

Fuck.

I didn’t move. I held my gun, aim steady. The cold metal of the barrel against my skull was enough to make the room spin, butI would not relinquish my weapon. My pride wouldn’t let me. It would have to be taken from me.

Saint walked over and plucked it out of my hand.

I gritted my teeth, forcing myself not to try and take it back from him. I had to crane my neck just to look up into his eyes.

He was way bigger than me, stronger than me. I could fight, but I couldn’t beat him, even if I tried my hardest. And I probably would have gotten myself killed in the process of trying.

But I was my daddy’s daughter.

So it was tempting.

The room was now chaotic. My friends were crying, begging.

My pulse was pounding.

"Get the fucking gun away from her head and step the fuck away from her," Saint ordered the man behind me, his tone colder than it had been before.

His lackey hesitated but moved.

He turned to Isabella and Jason. “Shut the fuck up!” he barked, and they fell silent.

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