Page 19 of Saint

Warmth pooled deep in my belly. The sun had set now, and it cast Alfie's curls in a faint halo. I traced his tattooed knuckles with my fingertips. "That's got to be a first for you," I teased.

Alfie made an indignant sound. "Damn near unprecedented."

"I know," I smirked. "I've heard stories."

"Oh, have you now? Good, because they're all true." He leaned a little closer until the heat of him warmed my skin. "Until you, that is."

Beneath his bravado was something softer, a layer that I imagined he didn't reveal too often. I watched him. "You don't fool me," I said. "That pretty boy façade only goes so far."

"Who are you calling pretty boy, bookworm?"

"I don't believe a word that comes out of your mouth."

"Well, that's something we're going to work on." He punctuated that with a soft kiss. "Come on, I'll walk you home."

We walked back, hand in hand. It felt ridiculously safe, like we were the only two people in the world. Or the only ones that mattered, at least.

I should have known it was too good to last.

The city lights blurred into a kaleidoscope of colors as the T sped through the darkened tunnels. Alfie and I sat close, our hands still entwined, the secrets we shared beneath the shade of the trees at Fenway Park weighing heavily between us. Alfie traced idle circles on the back of my hand, his green eyes dark and unreadable.

"What are you thinking?" I asked, my voice quiet in the rattling car. Alfie gave me a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"That you're dangerous."

"Me?" I arched an eyebrow. "You're the one with the gun, not me." I wasn't kidding myself. Even though I had never seen it, I knew Alfie carried a weapon and most likely had blood on his hands.

"Maybe. But you hold more power over me than you realize." Alfie pulled me against his side, his warmth enveloping me. I rested my head on his shoulder, and he pressed a kiss to my forehead. "This is our stop. Come on."

The platform was mostly deserted at this time of night. We stood as the train slowed, but before the doors opened, he pulled back sharply, paling. "Shit."

"What?"

Alfie didn't respond. Instead, he wrapped his sweatshirt around me and pulled up the hood, tucking my hair inside. His face was set in a way I hadn't seen it before, jaw clenched, his mouth a grim slash. It scared me.

"What are you doing?"

"Angel and Dom are on the platform." His eyes met mine, and he squeezed my hand. "Trust me."

The train slowed to a stop. Alfie tucked my head against his chest, pulling the hood down further. To anyone else, we might have appeared like two lovers. All I could hear were muffled voices and the rapid thumping of Alfie's heart beneath my ear. My own heart raced to match his, and I fought to keep my breathing even beneath the stifling hood. If either of my stepbrothers recognized him...

But then Alfie was pushing me, shielding me with his body, and we were moving. I didn't dare lift my head or speak. My knees buckled when I heard the all too familiar shout.

"Hey!"

Alfie cursed. We were so close to the door, but he didn't stop, he just kept pushing me forward. I stumbled, unable to see, nearly tripping over my own feet as another shout rang out, followed by a muted pop. Alfie grunted. He pushed me, hard, propelling me onto the platform as the doors slid shut behind us.

Metal screeched as the train started to pick up speed. My hood had fallen back just enough for me to see it pull away from the station, my stepbrothers silhouetted through the doors. Dom had his little brother pressed up against one of the support poles. He was furious, and it wasn't until I saw the gun in Angel’s hand that I realized what that pop had been.

"Alfie?"

"Come on, we gotta go." He hauled me to my feet and pulled me towards the exit. "Are you hurt?"

Hurt? I was dazed, more from the rush of adrenaline than anything else. My hands were a little scraped up from where I'd hit the platform, but I didn't think I was seriously hurt. "N-No," I stammered. "Did they shoot at us?"

"They shot at me. Are you sure you're okay? You're shaking." Alfie's hand was pressed against his upper thigh. There was blood on his jeans. Too much blood.

Panic clawed at my throat. "Me? What about you? You’re bleeding.”

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