Page 37 of Saint of the Shadows

“This is my grandfather’s–actually, my–vacation home. I’m usually never here.” Vincent recounted in his affected prep school accent.

She touched Abuelita’s necklace. “Is this a sick joke?”

“I don’t think so? Detective Quinlan needed a place off the books because he said he can’t trust his own people. Not after the hospital attack.” He put his hands on his hips, resting his thumbs in the loopholes of his jeans. “I, too, am in hiding after my kidnapping incident. The whole world thinks I’m gallivanting in London or Paris. I can never remember which.” Vincent laughed.

Cue an unimpressed eye roll. “Point me the direction home. I’m out of here.”

“We’re a little over an hour west of Shadowhaven. In the Micah National Forest.” Vincent pointed in a vague direction. “I think if you head that direction, you’ll make it, eventually. The terrain makes it a little iffy. Especially in a wheelchair.”

“I’ll order a car. I can survive a couple of goons after me.”

Vincent looked her up and down. “Barely.”

“My family needs me, all right? My dad’s real stupid with money—”

“If it’s money that’s bothering you, let me know what you need. I’ll take care of it. It’s not worth risking your life over money.”

“You can write a check and fix it?”

Vincent nodded. “Like that.” He snapped his fingers.

Marisol held her face in her hands. “That’s so patronizing.”

“I didn’t mean to insult you.”

“You would have to matter to insult me.”

“Marisol.” His face deflated. “Can we simply agree to be nice to each other while we’re stuck here?”

His imploring face brought on a wave of guilt. She had aimed for cold but landed on cruel. It would be better to avoid all feelings in isolation. She ignored his request with a sigh and wheeled herself toward her bedroom. The quick movement exacerbated her pain. She sucked in a breath as she cradled her side.

“Ice and Epsom salt will help the bruises. I can get those for you,” Vincent called after her.

She glared over her shoulder. “Don’t you have people to do that for you?”

“I don’t tend to keep maids and butlers around.”

After another roll of her eyes, Marisol continued to head toward her room. “I can’t do this.” Time had already ticked away as the Bloodsucker roamed Shadowhaven while she sat stuck on her ass, barely able to move. Her pulse drummed in her ears again, and the mounting anxiety squeezed her chest. Confined. Doted upon. Anything would be better than this situation. Her ribs brushed against the arm of her chair. A sharp pain stabbed into her.

“Why?” Vincent’s sharp and serious eyes poked at her vulnerability the way the wrong movement prodded at her bruises.

Her sinuses stung, threatening tears. “I’m gonna get those bastards that killed her.”

Vincent turned up the side of his mouth. “With the other foot?”

Marisol had the sudden urge to roll into his shins until they bled. Seated with a puffed-up chest, she looked ridiculous—as intimidating as a kitten. If she found the Patron Saint and had him champion her rage, she would be an unstoppable force. “I have powerful friends.”

“They must be very powerful, letting you get hurt like that.” Vincent’s acerbic tone suggested her Patron Saint caused her pain, and she would not allow it.

She clenched her teeth. “You know nothing about them. Or me.”

“I know they wouldn’t be good friends if they encouraged you to pursue vengeance.”

A sardonic laugh escaped her mouth. “Did you gain that bit of wisdom from writing a check?” Her tears blurred her vision like tempered glass.

Vincent turned his gaze away from her.

“Do you know who I am? I’m from the Westside, motherfucker. My brother murdered people. Didn’t even need a gun. He beat a man to death so bad that the cops had to use the guy’s tattoos to identify him.” She cracked a knuckle, though her chin trembled. “And the same blood runs through my veins. Are you shitting yourself now, rich boy? Me and everyone I know will fuckyou up if you try to stop me.” Raw pathways of tears streamed from her eyes. She waited for his inevitable freak out. Too much work, he’d say, and he’d demand she leave.

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