Saint’s jaw is as hard as glass as we make eye contact while the senior members of The Sainthood restrain my husbands and Bry, tying their hands behind the backs of their chairs. Rope is secured around their ankles, ensuring they can’t move.
I hope Diesel and the team are in place and that he’s listening to every word so he can move in at the right moment.
Sinner stands, keeping his arm around my chest and the gun pressed to my head while he moves us forward. When we reach the guys’ table, he hands me off to that bald prick. Baldy’s arm replaces Sinner’s across my chest, and he grabs my boob, cupping it as he presses a gun into my temple.
“Get your fucking hands off my wife!” Saint snarls, his chair jumping, making a loud screeching sound, as he attempts to stand while strapped down.
Sinner slams his hand down on the back of his son’s chair, yanks his head back, and jabs his gun into Saint’s neck.
All the air escapes my lungs as I silently plead with Saint to play the game. Sinner is completely unpredictable—and a cold, ruthless killer—so it wouldn’t take much provocation for him to pull that trigger.
“You’re in no position to make demands.” Sinner shakes his head, and a look of pure evil washes over his face. “You think you can tell me what I can and can’t do, boy!” he yells. “You let that fucking slut hold a knife to my throat! You helped her steal my fiancée from me!” He slams the butt of his gun into Saint’s temple. Saint’s head jerks with the motion, but he makes no sound.
“Leave him the fuck alone!” I shout, ignoring how my skin crawls as Baldy prods his hard dick against my ass and his fingers fondle my breast through my dress. “Your issue is with me. Leave Saint and the guys out of it.”
“Leave Harlow out of this,” Galen cuts in, gritting his teeth. “She did what you wanted. You asked her to assassinate the commissioner, and she did it.”
“And now she’s bound to me. If you don’t cooperate, I’ll hand her ass on a silver platter to the cops. Explain how Taylor Tamlin is a plant to hide the real assassin. I doubt your precious princess would ever make it to trial. Cops despise cop killers,” Sinner says, switching his attention to his nephew. He points his gun at Galen’s chest. “It’s cute you all think you saved her, but I don’t give a fuck if she’s married. She is mine to do with as I please.”
“It’s our most sacred tradition,” Saint hisses, pointing at Scraggly Beard. “You said so.”
The asshole smirks. “I say a lot of things I don’t mean. No one in this room gives a fuck about the old traditions. We’re making our own rules.”
“In case you’re too dumb to understand, that means your wife is ours to fuck,” Baldy says, slipping his hand underneath the top of my dress and into the cup of my bra, kneading my bare flesh.
Saint roars, and Galen curses. Caz growls. Theo pins remorseful eyes on me.
I hate this ugly fucker, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how much I loathe his hands on me, because pricks like him get off on that shit.
My guys need to keep it together.
I stare stoically ahead, remembering the end game. Sinner has only fessed up to ordering the hit on the commissioner. He hasn’t admitted to Daphne Leydon’s murder yet, so this needs to continue.
I retreat to that numb place within myself. One I’ve relied upon for years. A place I haven’t gone to in months. Brick by brick, the wall goes up around my heart, and I tune out my emotions, focusing on the mission—destroying Sinner and bringing The Sainthood to its knees.
“No one gets away with betraying me,” Sinner adds, punching Caz in the face. “And you have all betrayed me.” He yanks Theo by the hair, pulling his head back, stretching his neck at an awkward angle. “You think I don’t know what you’ve been doing behind my back?” He spits on Theo’s face, and my fingers inch toward the hem of my dress, ready to go for my knife. “You are traitors, and traitors need to pay for their sins.”
Sinner walks back to Saint, crouching in front of him. “Your mother tried to betray me, and I gutted her until I was swimming in her intestines.”
“You did her a favor. Death is preferable to sharing a life with a sick fuck like you.” Saint’s tone is clinical although his eyes seethe with rage.
Sinner punches him in the stomach before ramming his fist into his face. Blood spurts from Saint’s nose, and my fingers inch closer to my knife. I can’t stand by and watch him hurt my husbands, but I can’t end this too soon either. Not before we get what we came for.
The only way he’ll fess up is if I can get him to talk.
“You say we’re traitors. What are our crimes?” I jut my chin up, piercing Sinner with a haughty look. “Because it can’t be my mother. She chose to leave you, and you can’t blame a daughter for helping her mother to escape a monster. And I fucking killed a man because you asked me to. The commissioner is dead because you ordered it. What more do you want?”
He stands, patting his son on the head in a patronizing fashion. My fingers still at my side as he stalks toward me, but it’s too late—he’s noticed.
Clasping my chin in one hand, he tugs my dress up to my waist in the other. “Remove her weapons,” he commands, and two men step forward, unstrapping the knife and the dagger secured to my thighs. Their fingers brush against my skin, like vipers taking a little taste before sinking their teeth into my flesh, but I don’t flinch, reinforcing my walls and blanking out their touch.
Sinner lets go of my dress, and the silky material glides down my thighs, covering my exposed skin. Slowly, his hand eases up my thigh, under my skirt, and he cups my pussy through my lace panties, licking his lips as he eyeballs me. “You think I don’t know you’re working with the FBI?” He pushes my panties aside, spearing my cunt with two fingers, and I wriggle in Baldy’s arms, unable to stop myself from fighting against his vile touch.
Saint roars at his father, and I stop fighting, focusing on my husband, comforting him with my eyes, pleading with him to keep it together. I stare at Saint, letting myself drown in his blue eyes, using his face to ground me, helping me to blot everything else out, to distract me from his father’s disgusting assault.
When I’m satisfied Saint is more in control, I switch my attention to the game, deciding to play along, because keeping Sinner talking is essential to getting out of this nightmare. “What gave me away?”
“Do you know how long I’ve been looking for those files?” Sinner asks, sliding his fingers in and out of me.
Bile churns in my gut, but I hold myself still, not letting myself react in any way. I run with the opportunity presented to me. “I don’t have the Daphne Leydon files. If the FBI has them, they didn’t get them from me.”
“I’m not talking about that.”
“You’re not?” I feign confusion, ignoring his fingers inside me. “I thought you wanted to find out who’d stolen the evidence from you. Or are you no longer worried about being caught for Daphne’s murder now the commissioner is dead?”
“I’m talking about the Homeland Security files,” he snaps, withdrawing his fingers and evading my question. My body wants to slump in relief, but I freeze my muscles in place. “Do you know how long I’ve been trying to find those fucking files?” Shoving his fingers into his mouth, Sinner moans while licking them clean. “Salty as fuck.”