Saint: A Dark Romance (Saint and Sinners Book 1) Read online

  “Word spread over the year. Last month, they had a hundred people come through the doors looking for food and medical treatment.”

  “Wow,” I said. “It’s wonderful what she’s doing. Must be a lot with only donations to work with.”

  “It is.” Sinjin placed a box in my waiting arms. “She receives plenty of food, but antibiotics and the like aren’t as easy to get your hands on. That’s when Lombard Integrative Health came in.”

  I glanced down at the swirly logo. “Lombard?”

  “They announced to the press that they’d donate whatever Sacred Heart needed to keep the doors open. They put on a huge show. Camera crews came in to photograph the CEO shaking her hand. The church received one box of diabetic test strips and some insulin, and that was it.”

  My brows snapped together. I couldn’t have heard that right. “That was it? What happened?”

  “The entire thing was nothing more than a publicity stunt to distract from Joseph Lombard’s latest leaked sex tape. After the cameras go away, no one checks to see if these faceless companies follow through with their promises. Edie called politely asking when they’d receive the next donation. Everyone she spoke to either said they didn’t know anything about it, refused to let her speak to Joseph, or put her on hold until the line went dead.”

  “Oh my gosh,” I breathed. “That’s terrible. How do you feel good about yourself after ripping off a nun and a church full of needy people?”

  “There are worse men in this world than me, Bunny.” Tilting my chin up, Sinjin pecked the tip of my nose. “That’s why men like me exist.”

  “To steal from them and give to those in need?” I cast an eye over our haul. “Did the sister ask you to pull this job as her last hope?”

  Sinjin gave me a crazy look. “No, Bunny,” he said slowly. “She did not ask me to knock over a health clinic. She’s a nun.”

  My cheeks warmed. “Alright, then why did you do it?”

  “Edie was going to give up. That heavenly piousness wouldn’t allow her to continue chasing down freely given offerings like she had a right to them. Something Lombard was banking on. I told her to let me handle it. I’d go down to headquarters, meet with Lombard myself, and clear up this mix-up.” Sinjin hefted a box under his arm. “This is me handling it.”

  I tossed my head, mouth hanging open. “Let me get this straight, in response to her decision to let it go and be content with what she has, you robbed Lombard and showed up on her doorstep with a van full of stolen medicine. What will her heavenly piousness say about that?”

  Laughing, Sinjin strode off. “Beggars can’t be choosers, Bunny. That’s in the Bible.”

  “No, it isn’t!”

  His rich honeyed laugh filled the courtyard and echoed to the tip of the steeple. A laugh like that was a beacon to all who heard it.

  “Sinjin?” asked a silvery voice. “There you are. Looks like the meeting went well.”

  “Cleared up the whole mess, Edie. It was a miscommunication like we thought.”

  Peeking around the van, I laid eyes on a diminutive woman in sensible shoes and a habit. I placed her in her late fifties. Sixties at a push. She turned a cheek up at Sinjin, granting the full look at her kind face and pleasant smile. He dutifully kissed her.

  “Hello,” she said, spotting me.

  “This is Adeline Redgrave. She volunteered to do the heavy lifting.”

  “Hello, Sister.” I set my load in the van and ran up to shake her hand. “It’s nice to meet the woman Sinjin would open his veins for.”

  Sister Edith’s laugh was warm and unrestrained. “It’s nice to meet you too, Miss Adeline. How do you know our Sinjin?”

  “We met at a party,” Sinjin cut in. “Adeline put her stamp on the appetizers and I hired her to be my personal chef on the spot. I’ll bring some of her creations to the next potluck.”

  “Wonderful. Bring yourself too,” she said to me. “You’re welcome any time.”

  “I’ll put away the meds while you give her the tour.”

  “Thank you.” Edie patted Sinjin’s cheek, brimming with fondness. Whatever devotion he had for her was clearly reciprocated.

  Tucking my hand under her arm, she led me inside the cathedral. The interior was as striking as the exterior. Light flooded through the stained glass, casting a myriad of purples, blues, and reds over the pulpit. Shining marble floors stretched to grand wooden doors, and brown pews were covered with deep red cushions. The thick cobwebs stretching from mirror to mirror, cracks in the floor, and worn, ripped threads did not make the church less magnificent, though it did speak to their troubles.

  “How long have you known Sinjin?” I asked.

  “Many, many years.” She led me to a door that spilled out into a courtyard. “He was the first face that greeted me when I walked through those doors. A sweet boy that’s grown into a kind young man.”

  With that, I know it’s useless interrogating you. You don’t know Sinjin at all.

  A long row of bushes hugged the cathedral walls. Tucked between them were comfortable wooden benches. Sister Edith settled on one, drawing me down next to her. I could tell this was her favorite spot because it had instantly become mine.

  A limestone pathway split the lawn down the middle, leading to a babbling fountain. Over the head of the serene stone woman, all of Cinco City lay before us. The bustling, smoky, loud, charming wonder I’d call home until they put me in the ground.

  “Wow. I’d take holy orders for a view like this too.”

  She laughed. “It was fifty-five service to the Lord, and forty-five percent this view.”

  Right then, I decided I liked Sister Edith too.

  “Sinjin mentioned kids,” I said. “Are they inside having Bible study or something?”

  “No, they’re across the street at Our Lady of the Sacred Heart Catholic school. The school doesn’t have a playground, so the teachers bring the kids over to run around the courtyard.”

  “That’s nice of you. Everything you do—opening the church to the community, housing the homeless, helping the sick—it’s needed, Sister, and it’s appreciated.”

  “A wise man told me that this is what a church is meant to be. A shelter for the homeless. Refuge for the ill. Safe haven for children. Anything else would make us a bunch of pompous pricks flouncing around in black dresses while pretending to care for our fellow man.”

  I made a choked noise. “Sister!”

  “What?” A smile played at her lips. “I told you, a wise man said it. Not me.”

  The noonday bells chimed, sounding through the courtyard.

  “Ah. The children will arrive soon. Would you like to meet them?”

  “Love to.”

  There was still a chance I could fall asleep tonight dreaming of laughing children and sweet missing-tooth smiles, instead of wretched cries and bloody tongues.

  We stepped inside as they did. Neat lines of uniformed, knobby-kneed munchkins marched past the pews. Sinjin was nowhere to be seen though the back door hung open.

  “Hello, children.”

  “Hello, Sister Edie,” they chorused.

  “This is my friend, Miss Redgrave. Say hi.”

  “Hi, Miss Redgrave.” One kid broke out of the pack to hug me.

  “Hi, guys. What are your feelings on tag?”

  A dozen hands shot in the air. “I wanna play! I wanna—”

  “Arrgh!”

  My heart shot in my throat. Spinning around, I nearly tripped over my feet as Sinjin ran at me.

  “Children!” he bellowed.

  Shrieking, the kids took off in every direction.

  “Saint, what are you do— No!”

  He snatched up a little girl no more than seven years old and threw her over his shoulder. “Children! Children in the nave. Children in the pews.” He bolted—girl and all—after a boy racing fast for the confessional. “They’re everywhere!”

  Sinjin caught the boy around the stomach and hitched him up like a saddlebag.
My cries died on my lips. The children were screaming their heads off... laughing?

  He strode into the courtyard, innocents in hand, and all I could do was trail the baffling sight out of the door.

  Sinjin carried the screaming kids to the fountain, and dumped them in without preamble. The children popped out of the water laughing so hard they weren’t breathing. He blew past me running inside for more victims.

  “Be careful,” Edith called. She returned to her bench, folded her hands on her lap, and closed her eyes. I sought the kids’ teacher to make sense of the madness, but she was on another bench, marking papers.

  “This is the worst infestation I’ve ever seen!”

  I went inside and found a seat on the stairs’ bottom step. The kids had endless places to hide. An obvious group were shuffling and giggling behind a tapestry that was probably priceless. Sinjin rousted them and snatched up the ones who weren’t quick enough. They were taken to the fountain to receive the same fate.

  I got the feeling this was a game they played often. And Sinjin was a man they knew well. If this was the side Sister Edith got to see, she was lucky. As lucky as I was to see it now.

  “Adeline.” The sister poked her head inside. “Would you like to help me prepare lunch for the children?”

  “I’d love to.”

  Edith took me to their bare-bones kitchen. It was attached to a modest-size hall. We chatted about her plans to open the church to the community once a week. It was possible now that Sinjin handled the “Lombard mix-up.”

  Which means this won’t be the last time the Merchants steal from Lombard to help her. Sinjin’s good intentions—if they can be called that—could land her in hot water.

  Didn’t Lombard bring this on themselves? another voice spoke up. They promised her this medicine and then dropped her when the cameras turned off. He’s only taking what was owed her.

  I halted in the middle of buttering a cheese sandwich.

  So this is how Sinjin does it. Worms in with his amoral logic and has me questioning right and wrong. He said I’d agree with his actions that morning, and dammit, that’s exactly what I was trying to do.

  The children filed in soaking wet and grinning from ear to ear. The sister and teachers passed out food and towels, and then sat down at a table near the window with their lunch.

  I hung back rather than join. These were good people doing right without reward or expectation. Not many people like this survive Cinco because of the Joseph Lombards in every borough. On every street corner.

  Maybe what good people need isn’t an overworked pro bono lawyer doomed to fail against an army of suits on retainer. Or a drawn-out media battle where the other side lies their way into slapping you with defamation of character.

  It’s possible what good people with no options need is someone who comes in and solves the problem without restraint. Someone like a middleman.

  “That’s why men like me exist.”

  Or a Merchant.

  I left the hall in search of Sinjin. The van was locked and empty. Sinjin was finished unloading, but I didn’t hear cardboard ripping or a hulking mass of wickedness and beauty moving around.

  Climbing the stairs, I moved to the second floor that wasn’t included in my tour.

  The space was narrow. Cinderblock walls pressed in on me, imposing and cool to the touch. They bounced my echoing footsteps through the nave—alerting Sinjin that I was coming before I rounded the corner.

  There he was. My avenging angel or merciless demon depending on the day. Depending on my traitorous pulse or sneaking smile recognizing the first man to ever challenge me.

  Sinjin stood in a small office. It barely held him, the desk, bookshelf, and a small fireplace. He hadn’t looked up at my arrival, though he faced me. His attention was fixed on the frames, crosses, and rosary beads adorning the mantle.

  I leaned against the frame, giving him the same rapt focus. “How long have you been going here?” I asked.

  “Do I seem like a man who attends church every Sunday?”

  “My mistake. I meant, when did you stop going here? The cross that hangs over your bed is the same size, color, and style as the one hanging on that wall.”

  The corner of his mouth drew up. “I’d say you were impressively observant, but in this case, Edie likely helped you along.”

  “She said you were the first person she met when she arrived. Did you go to the Catholic school?”

  He gave the barest shake of the head—gaze fixed. “The school opened ten years ago. What she meant is, she walked into the cathedral and found me sleeping on a pew where my mother abandoned me. Hell of a first day.”

  My jaw slackened. “Your mother...” I trailed off.

  “Don’t mistake me,” he continued, voice soft. “She was a good woman, and took care of me for all the years she was able. When the cancer brought her to the point that she couldn’t, she brought me here, so I wouldn’t have to watch her die. I never saw her again.”

  “Oh.” There were other things I could’ve said. Better things. None would come to my lips.

  “Edie wanted to call child services and get me placed with a family. The priest at the time wouldn’t let her. He decided I’d stay here. Live here.”

  “He did?” I whispered. “Wow. I didn’t know priests could do that. I mean, you can’t be the first child that was left in a church by a desperate parent.”

  “I’m not, and they can’t. The diocese gave him hell for it. He argued with the bishop at least once a week about turning me over. He refused. For six years, this was my home.”

  I smiled. “He was the wise man Edie spoke about, wasn’t he? The one who said this place should be a refuge. A safe haven for children.”

  “He used to say that, yes.”

  “Hmm. It’s wonderful that he stood by his convictions, and by you, but why was he so resistant? You could’ve found great adoptive parents. Did he not trust the system?”

  “He resisted.” Sinjin broke his gaze and brushed past me. “Because he was my father.”

  The statement hung in the air long after Sinjin’s footfalls faded. Slowly, I stepped into the room, taking Sinjin’s place.

  On the shelf sat a black-framed photo of a man in priest’s robes holding the hand of a little boy who was undeniably Sinjin. His hair was black. His smile wide and beaming, but the glint of mischief in his eyes connected man and boy. As did the strong resemblance an older Sinjin had with the man looking back at me.

  No, this little boy isn’t Sinjin. He’s St. John.

  And as surely as I knew it would crush me to find out why Edith and Sinjin spoke about his father in the past tense, I knew it was the first chapter in how that boy became this man.

  I placed my hand over my heart. Wild, racing, and fluttering.

  Just like I know I’ll spend the rest of my life waiting to hear that story.

  Sinjin won.

  I was his, and heaven help me, he would be mine.

  Chapter Eight

  Sinjin leaned against the van, throwing the keys up in the air. “Took you long enough. Let’s go. You’re making me another one of those malted chocolate drip cakes.”

  I slipped out of the door, smiling. “It takes three hours minimum to make that cake. I only bake for you when you’re good.”

  “I gave to charity today.” He gestured at the van. “I was very good.”

  “You stole for charity,” I corrected. “You and I will have a discussion about your definition of good.”

  “Lesser men than you have tried to educate me.”

  “Then let me step in when they failed.” I molded to him, laying my head on his chest. Sinjin stilled. “Your mind is a place no person can comprehend. In there, everything you did today was justified. Part of me even agrees that it was. Right and wrong isn’t as rigid as we’d like it to be. It can change in any circumstance, on any given day.

  “Which is why you won’t get my approval.”

  “You crossed a few signals the
re, Bunny.”

  “It’s not black and white. Part of me agrees and part of me doesn’t. Going down the spiral to choose one would only leave me split. There is the answer to your test, Saint. We end in a draw.”

  He hummed. “I’ll take it.”

  “You’ll take this too.” I rose up and captured his lips. Soft and chaste, I moved against him, indulging the tangy spice that was Sinjin.

  Head spinning, I broke away. My skin was tingling like millions of bubbles were bursting beneath the surface. I knew all the reasons why I waited to do that, and still I waited too long.

  “See what happens when you give me what I want,” I teased.

  I turned away, reaching for the door handle.

  A hand clamped on my wrist and the world spun in a riot of white, blue, and gray. Then there was Sinjin.

  His mouth crashed on mine, swallowing my yelp. I was slammed against the van, crushed between metal and his powerful body as if to rid me of the idea I was going anywhere.

  He spread my legs, wrapping them around him, and ground between my middle until I moaned. The invitation was all he needed to plunge in.

  Every second of every day with Sinjin Bellisario had been a battle. Why should kissing him be any different?

  He curled around my tongue—tugging and demanding it surrender. I pushed back and dipped into him. Shockwaves thrummed through me. Tightening my body. Clicking on sensations for the very first time.

  I’d never wanted anyone this badly in my whole life who wasn’t an unattainable member of a boy band.

  Sinjin was real. He was hard, rippling flesh under my fingers. He was fine hair tickling my forehead and punishing teeth scraping my bottom lip. He was throbbing cock demanding entrance.

  I was done with our game of “will we, won’t we.” I was going to attain the fucking crap out of him. To borrow a phrase, I’d attain him until it fell off.

  I broke away gasping. “I give you an inch and you take a mile,” I said, grin impossible to hold back. “Why am I not surprised?”

  He growled. “This better not surprise you either. I’m taking whatever I want from here on out. Consent signed, dated, and sealed until the end of time.”