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“He works for Saint,” I tell Lucy who’s stiffened up beside me at the sight of him. No doubt because of the gruesome story I’ve just told. “He’ll move us to the mansion. You’ll be safe. I promise.”
I promise.I shouldn’t promise because I don’t know what comes next. I don’t know if there is an entire platoon of military trained soldiers waiting for us around the next corner, or if Liam Wilde himself is here. Hell, I don’t know if one of the guys we’ve trusted will pull a gun and shoot us all point-blank.
“Dante,” Lucy says, twisting toward me as Saint climbs up off the boat.
Our gaze meets and my heart warms in a way it never has before.
“Yeah.” My voice is in a near whisper.
“I haven’t told you guys everything.” Her eyes are big and round, the reflection of the men behind me in her gaze.
My heart stops. “What do you mean you haven’t told us everything? What is there to tell?” I turn my head into her and lower my voice. “Did you steal whatever was in that box?”
She shakes her head and stares up at me, a tear dropping from her cheek. Her lips fall open.
“Throw me that duffle and let’s move,” Saint barks. “We can’t linger here. It puts everyone in danger.”
Lucy turns back to grab the duffle and reaches for Saint’s extended hand, which offers to help her from the boat. I on the other hand am left standing, rocking in the skiff, wondering who in the hell I just told my secrets to.
Chapter Five
Lucy
Three men stare back at me from across the room, all of them studying my expressions like I have something to prove, but I’m not one for proving myself. You either see my worth, or you get out of my way. I haven’t always been like that, and I have my moments of insecurity, but if a woman can’t believe in herself, who will?
I glance up at Dante. He’s different from Saint, kinder somehow, though I wish I could have finished telling him my secrets. God knows what he’s thinking right now. I’m not sure when we will be alone again. This mansion is huge, and I assume they all have their own spaces, far away from wherever they’re throwing the captured.
Saint stands leaned against the back wall, swirling a few ice cubes in brown liquor. He looks like he belongs in this space. It’s much statelier. Heavy, expensive furniture, a grand piano, a mahogany bookshelf lined with color-coded hardbacks. I wonder what they’re reading.
Luca and Dante sit on opposite ends of a cream-colored couch and the three look at each other as though they’re holding something back, something I figure they’ll tell me before too long. None of them seem to be the quiet type… except Luca. I guess he could pass for a guy who methodically thinks every decision to a painful conclusion. Either way, I wish they’d take me already; I’m dying to get to the part of the book where they gangbang me, and I forget I’m actually being held prisoner for a few minutes.
“You’re lying about something,” Saint barks. He glares back at me with the darkness of a demon. He’s not fucking around this time.
“I’m sorry, I thought we were past the blaming.”
“You and Dante… you were talking about something on the boat. We don’t have secrets here, Cinderella. You tell me what you know, and I keep you safe. You talk tomewhen ordered.”
Is that what he’s worried about? That I told Dante my secrets, and not him?
“You know, why can’t we all have fun? We can take a few body shots and get a little touchy-touchy. I thought men were supposed to be down to fuck all the time?”
Saint scoffs, and stalks toward me, his giant body striding like an animal out for its prey, but I welcome the challenge of his overbearing demeanor. He thinks he’s in control, but he’s not.
“You’re mouthing off again.” His arm locks behind my chair, and another at my side as his scent falls down over me. It’s cedar with undertones of something sweet. “Do you need to be taught a lesson?”
“If the lesson is to keep my mouth shut, I wouldn’t waste your time.”
His hand moves toward my face, and he grips my chin. “What did you tell Dante?”
“She didn’t tell me anything.” Dante stands from the couch and walks toward us. “I told her about Bo and the Finnegans.”
Saint pauses and keeps his gaze on me. “You two are getting close then. Dante doesn’t talk about his past, not with anyone.”
I glance toward Dante, a softness in my eyes before I harden my stare at Saint. “Are you jealous, Wolfie? Because I can—”
“It’s safety.” He looks toward Dante with narrowed brows. “How do you know she’s being real with us?”
“Look at her, Saint.” Dante’s voice is strained. I know he hasn’t opened up to anyone about his world before. I didn’t need him to tell me that, I could hear it in his voice. “She hasn’t done anything wrong.” I hear it again now; he’s reaching because of what I told him before we got out of the boat. He knows I have something else to hide. Saint picks up on it as well.
