A woman screams. People scramble back.
I glance sideways and freeze. Antonio holds a gun, its barrel trained on Saint. My heart jackknifes in my chest. "You promised," I whisper. "You said you wouldn’t hurt him. You promised that if I gave you what you needed, you’d release my friend."
"Maybe I lied," Antonio smiles, his thin upper lip a slash across his face, "maybe I didn’t. It’s up to you how this plays out."
I swallow.
"Tell him to stand back."
"Stop hiding behind her, you coward," Saint growls. "Let her go and fight me."
Shit, shit, shit. The hell is he doing? "Shut up, Saint," I huff.
He glares at me, the skin around his eyes crinkling.
"Don’t tell me what to do," he pulls back his shoulders.
"This once, will you listen to me?" I whisper-shout.
"She has a point," Weston walks forward.
Antonio points the gun at him, but he raises his hands, "Easy there."
Antonio turns back to Saint. "For someone who was kidnapped and tortured, you turned out well."
"Tortured?" I blink.
Saint’s jaw hardens, "Let her go, and you and I can talk this out."
"Oh?"
Saint nods. "What do you want? Money? Fame?" He glances around at the assembled paparazzi. "Though why you’d want every single camera in the country on your back—"
"Not mine. Yours."
"What?"
Antonio turns to me, "Hand it over."
"What’s he talking about?" Saint growls.
I nudge my fingers into my purse, pull out the flash drive.
"I believe this is what you are looking for," I hold it out to him.
He turns the gun on me. "Don't attempt anything funny."
There’s an indrawn breath from Saint. Tension screams off of him. Does he recognize it? Does he realize it’s the USB from his desk? Will he ever forgive me?
"No, tricks." I raise the device, "Take it. Everything you want is on that."
He holds out his palm and I drop the device onto it. He pockets it, then grabs me and holds the gun to my temple. Sweat beads my upper lip.
My heart races so fast, I am sure it’s going to break out of my ribcage. My knees buckle and the world tilts around me. Antonio tightens his hold on my waist, yanking me closer. I flinch, hunch my shoulders.
"Let go of my wife," Saint growls.
"Wife?" Antonio laughs, "Is that what you call this relationship?"
Saint’s shoulders bunch, "Shut the fuck up."
"Have you told her what they did to you when you were kidnapped?"
I half angle my body, glance from Saint to Antonio. "Of course, I know about the incident," I force my voice to stay steady.
"Oh?" Antonio begins to inch back. "Has he told you what they did to him in that cell? How they tortured him and his friends? How they systematically broke him?"
Saint growls low in his throat. The fine hair on the nape of my neck rise. "Of course, he did. We…we have no secrets."
Shit, what am I saying? What does it matter that Antonio is trying to push Saint until he loses control? Why can I not allow that? I straighten my shoulders. I need to deflect Antonio’ attention for as long as I can.
"You told him your secrets, Victoria?"
I pale. "I… Have none."
Antonio grins, "You’ll have to do better than that." He jerks his chin toward Saint, "Even your husband doesn’t believe you."
Don’t look, don’t. I swing my head in Saint’ direction. He’s glaring at me, his features contorted. His blue eyes blaze with… Anger? Hate?
My pulse rate kicks up. Shit, why does his opinion of me matter? "I never withheld anything from you." I glance away, "Not out of choice, at least."
"I believe you."
I whip my gaze to his face, "You do?"
"Of course. All of your actions have a reason."
"Oh!" My heart stutters and warmth coils in my chest. "You believe me?"
"Always." Saint’s lips twist, "Even your lies tell me a story."
"Saint, I—" I step forward.
Antonio pulls me back.
I cry out.
Saint jumps forward.
"Stop right there," Antonio aims his pistol at my husband.
"I… I’m fine," I choke out. "Don’t come close."
Saint’s throat moves as he swallows. "Get away from her," he growls.
“Get back.” Antonio, waves his gun and the crowd scrambles away. "The rest of you too."
I survey the room and find Sinclair—with Summer behind him—Weston, Damian and Edward standing in a semicircle.
Amelie and the girls are clustered in a corner away from the action.
Antonio jerks his chin, "I won’t warn you again.
"Get back, you guys," Saint growls.
Weston hesitates. Damian and Edward stay unmoving. Sinclair balls his fists at his sides.
"She’s my wife," Saint’s shoulders bunch, "I take the risks."
"Fuck that," Weston scowls. "We have each other’s backs."
"So what if we don’t always like each other," Sinclair mutters.
"Except Baron." Damian glowers. "He prefers to keep his shit separate."
"Fucking Baron," Edward agrees.
Antonio glances between them, "You guys are insane."
"Am I late…?" Arpad walks in with a blonde on his arm. She screams.
There’s a soft pop. I blink at the gun in Saint’s hand. Where the hell had he kept it hidden?
Antonio staggers. "Fuck," he swears aloud, takes another step back.
"Let her go," Saint growls.
Antonio retreats toward the door, keeping me between him and Saint.
"Ask your husband to put down his weapon, or you’re going to be widowed twice over," Antonio growls.
"No, don’t hurt him." My pulse rate goes through the roof. "Saint," I swallow, "do as he says. Please."
Saint doesn’t move. His gaze is fixed on my face. His features are hard, his eyes glaring pools of blue. Is he angry at me?
Why is he angry at me?
Antonio reaches the door. "Say goodbye."
"No," I snarl, helplessness filling me. "You can’t do this. I did everything you asked me to do."
"Too bad I never keep my word." Antonio raises his gun toward me. Flashes light up around me, then everything goes dark.
42
Saint
"Fuck, fuck, fuck." I pace the floor in the waiting room in the hospital. "I am her husband. I should be in there with her."
Damian watches me from the chair he’s sprawled in. "You did a good enough job convincing the doctor in charge to allow Weston to be
