Chapter 16

Sara

I wasn't used to being surprised, not really. During college, I'd seen so many insane things from catching lovers inside a girl's bathroom fucking like rabbits to the horrible initiations into fraternities and sororities that I'd wanted no part of. Maybe I had been sheltered while living in Montana or even Seattle where I spent my early formative years, but the moment I stepped foot off the bus in Chicago, it was as if I'd lost my virginity all over again.

The city, the lights, and the crowds had been overwhelming. Almost immediately I'd buried myself in my studies or in fiction books, most of them by my favorite authors: Stephen King and Dean Koontz, and lapping up every Bentley Little for the third and fourth time. My roommate at the time had called me a wallflower, making fun of me in front of all her cool friends because I had cheap clothes from Walmart or mail order from JCPenney.

Meanwhile, she wore Gucci or Prada on her feet, her handbag costing more than my first car, and her clothing as if she had a personal shopper in Paris.

So what did the wallflower girl do? She'd buried her nose even deeper into books, finally getting inspiration to write several short stories. At first, they'd been tame, more like horror lite, but over time, I'd allowed my loneliness and depression to drive me deeper into violent acts of murder, spirits with malevolent thoughts, and demons who rose from the dirt like cockroaches.

It had fulfilled a need in me, although it had also pushed me further into being a loner.

Until Josie and Taylor had popped into the diner one day. Instead of making fun, they'd asked me questions, all three of us finding common ground. We'd become fast friends almost overnight, which had pushed my writing to the back burner for almost two years.

Now I could feel it coming back with a vengeance, ideas flowing like wildfire.

Especially since I'd overheard some of what Easton had said to his brother. I'd heard the angst, the odd concern in Styx's voice that wasn't typical of a normal family. Oddly enough, it was a similar conversation I'd heard my parents expressing when I'd announced I was accepting the full ride scholarship to the University of Chicago. It had been funny to me at the time. They'd left all they knew in the blink of an eye after news regarding my uncle had surfaced, yet when I'd wanted to better myself, my mother had cried herself to sleep.

I wasn't certain how to react to hearing about how much Easton's past had affected all three men born into the Saint family. What little I'd captured in my foray into secretly listening added credence to the stories my friends had alluded to. Styx had been a hired assassin? I knew there were such professions, including mercenaries hired by various military operations to extract kidnapped foreigners, eliminating everyone involved with the abduction.

But I had a feeling the kills mentioned were much more gruesome. What in God's name had their father done to them to turn them so bloodthirsty?

Or maybe I'd read too many horror books.

What I'd heard hadn't really bothered me. What had made me swoon a little too much was hearing praise from Easton. He genuinely seemed to appreciate having me around.

That only fueled the fantasies that much more, which was utterly ridiculous.

I'd sipped on my wine, enjoying a hot bubble bath complete with a few flameless candles and enjoying myself thoroughly.

All the while I'd plotted stories and fantasized about the rough and tumble man.

While I'd forgotten to ask if there was a dress code for dinner, I had a feeling flip-flops and shorts, my usual evening attire when it was this warm outside, wouldn't cut it. My mother had given me a simple yet lovely body-hugging black dress for Christmas, which had shocked me until she'd said it was my graduation present.

Something appropriate to wear under my cap and gown, she'd said.

Or to funerals.

My mother was a no-nonsense woman and it had taken the wind out of my sails. But for some crazy reason as I took one last look into the mirror, twisting and turning back and forth, I was grateful I owned at least one nice piece of clothing. Plus, it looked entirely different on me than I'd thought it would, highlighting curves I hadn't known I had.

Baggy was my uniform, jeans in the winter with oversized sweaters. I wanted to say I looked like a princess, but the color didn't seem appropriate. Still, I'd even taken a few minutes to curl my hair with the electric curler I'd forgotten I'd purchased ages ago.

I almost didn't recognize myself, especially with gray eyeshadow.

After blowing myself a kiss in the mirror, I grabbed my empty wineglass and headed out of the room.

The first surprise was hearing what sounded like rock music coming from downstairs. That couldn't be right. Easton and rock music didn't seem to go together. I walked carefully in the same black heels I'd worn the infamous night we'd… had a case of mistaken identity, heading down the stairs with one hand firmly planted around the railing.

By the time I got to the landing, I heard the rocking beat of the drums and smiled. Maybe the man had several sides to him, not just the grumpy guy with what seemed like a permanent scowl. I moved to the kitchen, half expecting to see him there, or maybe a huge staff of people preparing a feast. Finding nothing but the opened bottle of wine and a note, I bit my lower lip.

Pour yourself more and come outside. The evening is lovely. Bring the bottle.

Lovely? He used words like lovely? And what was he doing outside? Where was the chef I was certain he had on staff? Where was all the activity in the kitchen?

To say I was more than curious was an understatement. Holding both the bottle and the glass in one hand, I headed to the back door, noticing string lights I'd paid no attention to before. They were bubble lights strung everywhere in various colors. There were also white lights twinkling in several of the trees, which seemed even stranger.

Maybe he did entertain and have friends.

I opened the set of French doors and was immediately hit by a mouthwatering smell. There was no way he was cooking over charcoal. None. As I walked further onto the deck, I noticed smoke curling toward the sky. My God. I was floored. Easton was nothing like I believed he was.

The music was blaring, the Bon Jovi song keeping a smile on my face. I adored the band. I also wondered if he'd snooped enough into my life to have learned that about me. Not that I'd told anyone, or had it listed on any social media accounts since I'd never bothered to use one.

When I found him underneath a trellis, I stood in awe for a few seconds. I don't know why he'd allowed his guard to fall around me, other than what had occurred the other night between us, but seeing him in shorts and a tee shirt, his feet bare threw me more than the fact he was just about to put four burgers on the hot grill.

The outdoor kitchen was spectacular, the space rivaling any commercial kitchen. And the wooden outdoor table and eight chairs was a perfect location to have a nice dinner with friends.

But it just wasn't him. Not in the least.

Especially since he was also wearing an apron. I couldn't keep from laughing, loud enough even over the roar of the music he lifted his head. The overhead pendant lights allowed me to see the sexiness of his clenched jaw and the way his eyes were piercing mine.

His possessive look had me tingling all the way to my toes.

"You're late," he said in a gruff voice as he lifted a clear drink from the side table, taking the opportunity to allow his gaze to fall. "And overdressed but I must admit, I like it. You look incredible, little fawn."

His use of the word made me feel like one of his prey.

"I'm not late."

He pointed up to the clock on the wall and I grimaced. How had it gotten to be twenty minutes after seven? "Oops."

"While I do enjoy relaxation time, I am a stickler about time, Sara. That's something you need to learn and respect."

There was something overtly sexual about the way he took another sip of his drink. "Yes, sir," I said with more of a defiant tone in my voice. I placed the bottle on the table, trying to keep my nerves from skittering out of control.

"Good girl. Dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes. Take off your shoes and enjoy the nice evening. I heard a storm is supposed to roll in."

I hated the lake effects of the late spring storms. Even in May, they'd brought snow or at least torrential rains. I glanced up at the sky, marveling at the stars as I kicked off my shoes like he asked. It felt odd he was cooking while I was enjoying wine. Maybe I'd thought he would task me to cook and clean as well.

He was quiet and so was I. I didn't know him at all, other than what I'd heard. What I hated the most was being uncertain what to say to him.

"Your story was markedly improved, so much so I think you need to continue on with it. When you're done, I'll publish you. I know a couple of cover artists who can provide a perfect setting for your hero's world. Plus, I'll be happy to fund some advertising as well. As you might know, the horror genre isn't as popular as some like romance."

I turned my head toward him, certain my mouth was gaping open. "You'd do that?"

He laughed, barely glancing at me. "I'm certain you've heard all the rumors about me, including by your good friend Josie. While some stories are wildly exaggerated, there is some truth to many of them. I am a bad man through and through. My brothers are as well, but I have no issue helping those with talent like you have. You remind me of myself from years ago, eager to share a story burning deep inside, willing to cross lines of humanity and even common sense to do so. I admire that greatly so yes, I will be your mentor if you'd like."

I had to fan myself to keep from fainting. "I would love that."

"Excellent. You made an impression on my brother. That rarely happens. Both my brothers are hard men, more so than I am, at least when out in the open."

"What does Styx do?"

Easton flipped the burgers then stood back, studying me as if wondering where this was going. "He's a surgeon. He saves lives."

"I thought he was an assassin." I slapped my hand over my mouth as soon as the words slipped out.

His scowl returned but it was laced with amusement. "Either you overheard our conversation, or someone told you a not very well-known secret about my brother."

"Then it's true."

"Yes, it's true. He was hired to eliminate some very reprehensible people who deserved their punishment. And I assure you, little fawn, the court systems have failed over the years protecting the innocent from such well known and heinous predators. However, I believe my brother is much happier having returned to the very profession he used to find a better way of life."

"Judge and jury."

Chuckling, he moved to another part of the kitchen, opening a refrigerator and pulling out a plate with various cheeses. "As I said, it's often necessary when the justice system fails."

"If we can't believe in the system then there will eventually be anarchy."

He smirked. "What makes you think anarchy hasn't existed for centuries hidden behind a veil so the normal folk can live their lives in peace? Otherwise, panic would set in, much like the catastrophe movies you've undoubtedly seen."

Maybe we were both jaded.

"And your other brother?"

"Creed is the CEO of our family's corporation and considered a Don."

"Mafia." I heard the surprise in my voice.

His grin widened. "Does that really shock you so much? With all the gossip generated at the university, I would have thought everyone knew we were actually little green men."

He made me laugh in earnest and I walked closer. "People do love to talk," I admitted.

"Yes, they do, which is why I wasn't friends with many of my associates. I simply didn't want to be tortured with questions that mean nothing to me. However, it's okay for you to ask whatever you'd like. But I'm going to do the same. The intimacy I was talking about before isn't just nurtured with foreplay or sex but with opening and expanding the mind with frank and often uncomfortable conversations."

"Does that mean there are no taboo subjects?" He'd said much the same in class over the months, which had drawn me to him even more.

"As long as you can handle the answers then no subject will be off limits." He had a wry smile on his face as he grabbed a couple of buns, splitting them open and placing them on the grill.

I wanted to tell him I could handle anything, but I wasn't certain I was ready for him to burst my enjoyable bubble at this point.

"O-kay. How about something easy. Do you enjoy cooking?"

The way he shook his head was a quiet way of admonishing me. "I do. It relaxes me. Often the worst beasts in society have a normal hobby. Cheese?" he asked.

"Yes, two pieces, please." He was chastising me for believing anything I'd read about him.

As he added the slices to the burger itself, he pointed toward another appliance. "I hand cut steak fries if you'll get them out of the oven for me. Watch yourself and don't get burned."

I noticed an oven mitt and when I passed by him, I gathered a whiff of his aftershave and for a few seconds felt lightheaded. I did as he asked, the aroma of the fries reminding me I hadn't eaten for several hours, barely nibbling on a muffin that morning, I'd been so nervous.

"Is that what you really want to know, Sara? Why I'm out here making burgers, curious as to why I'd engage in something so mundane? Or is there a question that is burning within you, one that you must ask me before you can place your trust in me?"

After placing the tray on a towel on the counter, I turned toward him, gripping the edge of the granite surface with one hand. "Okay. If nothing is off limits to ask then I need to know if the things I've heard about your family are true."

He said nothing for a few seconds, placing the burgers on plates and adding fries to both. I was holding my breath as he took them to the table. He'd already adorned it with various condiments and silverware. "Sit down, Sara."

I knew it wasn't a request but an order.

I did as he commanded, sitting exactly where he'd pointed while he selected the head of the table, yanking off the apron just before sitting down. In the colorful but subtle lights, I was able to bask in his glorious physique without being caught. The tee shirt was tight, the shorts highlighting the same thick bulge between his legs and my God, did he have some muscular thighs.

However, what attracted me the most as being able to see more of the tattoo, even though the limited light made it difficult to clearly see incredible details.

The music continued to play, blaring out over unseen speakers as we both prepared our burgers. Only when I'd added ketchup over my fries did he grab a remote, turning down the music so we could talk.

"Eat before it gets cold," he further instructed.

The moment I took a bite, I moaned in pleasure from the taste. Whatever spices he'd used had been perfect, the burger itself cooked to exactly the way I liked it. I savored bite after bite, almost forgetting about the questions. I even shoved several fries into my mouth, not even worrying about eating like a lady.

"I can see you're enjoying the food I made," he said with just as much amusement in his tone as I'd heard before.

Without thinking, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand like my brothers did before noticing he was watching my every move. I grabbed a napkin, finally placing the very sloppy burger back onto the plate. When I licked the juice off two fingers, he took a deep breath, taking a huge bite of his burger, consuming almost half at once.

He was a sexy eater, or maybe everything about him aroused me. "Very much, even if they're very messy." When I noticed he had a dollop of mayonnaise on the side of his face, I didn't think about what message I was sending before reaching over, rolling the tip of my finger through the deliciousness, and sliding it into my mouth.

"Yes," he growled, the sound sending another shower of current through every muscle.

The crackle of electricity between us kept us both on edge. "Yes," I said quietly. "It's the best burger I think I've ever had, and my dad can cook a mean cheeseburger."

"Then I will take that as one of the best compliments I've had." With two more bites, he was finished with his burger. I found myself concentrating on the way beef juice was now trickling down his hand. Without hesitation, he reached over, pushing two of his juice-coated fingers into my mouth. "Lick me clean, Sara. Every drop."

I wrapped one hand around his wrist, never blinking as I followed his second command of the night, enjoying not only the taste of the liquid but also of his skin. It was tinged with tobacco, maybe one of those Cuban cigars he'd talked about. I licked down one finger, up another, finding this more intimate than what we'd done before.

Yes, in the back of my mind I realized my actions were more than inappropriate, but I sensed he was attempting to push all my boundaries for creative reasons.

When I was finished, he rolled the tip of his index finger around my lips before returning to his food, shoving several fries into his mouth, same as I had.

I finished eating with added gusto, trying to keep my hands from shaking. When I finally took a sip of wine, he pushed his plate and his chair back, making himself comfortable. He'd caught me staring at his tats again, cocking his head as he glanced down at his arm himself.

"You're wondering about the artwork," he said.

"Yes. It's incredible."

"When I went away to college, it was the first thing I did."

"Truly amazing. The detailing is impressive. Stunning. And so you."

"You know your tats?"

"Only because I went with my brother when he got one against my parents' wishes."

He laughed. "I didn't have that luxury. You're close to your family."

"Yes and no. Mom and Dad are always working given the ranch life isn't in their blood, and both thought my foray into creative writing was a phase that would pass. Oops. I think they really believed their kids would want to be sheep farmers."

"Maybe they were just protecting you from this big, bad world."

I mulled over what he said. "They've always tried to. But as we both know, evil lurks inside the most pristine families."

"Very sad and very true." As he poured me more wine, he lifted his gaze once again. "You should cherish them no matter how tough they were on you. Now, back to our original conversation. What is it that you really want to know, Sara? You're obviously curious about my admittance I'm a dangerous man as well as the speculations that my father was a real-life monster. Now is your time to ask what you need and if you're incensed or terrified by my answers, you are free to go. I'll pay you for two weeks of your time, but you won't be allowed to divulge any of our conversations to anyone. I will do what's necessary to keep that from happening. Is that clear?"

I knew he would keep his promise.

"Yes, perfectly clear. I don't think there's anything you can tell me that will bother me." I leaned forward in my chair, folding my arms so I could gather a better look at his eyes. Every old phrase seemed appropriate around him. They were truly windows to his soul, although the icy obsidian appearance would terrify almost anyone.

Not me.

"We shall see."

"Are you mafia? Is your corporation a front for crime syndicate activities like money laundering and the illegal sale of drugs? Do you force people to pay you what's called insurance money so you protect their stores and allow them to keep breathing?"

Another laugh pushed up from his throat, the sound rich and husky. "You've watched far too many movies on crime syndicates. Do I consider myself a member of a mafia family, yes, I do. While my father engaged in the old methods of doing business, some similar to what you just mentioned, nowadays most syndicates don't need to resort to heinous criminal activities for their daily business operations. Besides, our weapons and security systems development and sales keep the three of us busy."

"Okay, wow. So you sell illegal weapons?"

"We have sold weapons to less than scrupulous organizations and countries in the past, but we are currently working with the militaries of several respected countries. In other words, we've gone mostly legitimate."

"But Creed is the head. Does he use force to operate or to handle discrepancies?"

He got up from the table, grabbing a bottle of gin from the counter. Only after pouring did he answer me. "Now, we are finally getting somewhere. Yes, Sara. All three of us have used violence as necessary to thwart off our enemies or to teach certain people who dared cross us a lesson."

"The response learned from your father?"

The way he took a deep breath indicated the subject was a sore one for him. His smile was genuine. "Yes, our father was a brutal man who enjoyed inflicting pain. Does that shock you?"

"Yes, of course it does. Including inflicting agony on his sons." I knew I was pushing a little hard but once I got started with something like this, it was difficult for me to stop. I couldn't imagine. My father had been strict, often showing no emotion, but what I'd just heard horrified me.

After taking a sip of his drink, he twisted his glass back and forth on the table. "Dear old Daddy was a sadist, laughing at his kids when any of us cried out in pain. He got off on asserting his power over us. His father was the same way, our dad never being able to shake the indoctrination."

"Does that mean…" I laughed softly, uncertain what I was thinking yet trembling all over.

"Does that mean if I had children I'd beat or cage them? No, my beautiful fawn. Our mother was the most powerful influence, even if she disappeared when I was eight or nine."

"That's terrible."

"He's dead because of his actions."

His admittance floored me. I swallowed some wine and almost choked on it. I had to admit to myself that the darkness that had formed in his eyes had only somewhat to do with the darkening skies. There was something inside of him that was festering, as if a monster was clawing at the edges of his humanity. "Were the hunts real?" My voice was strangled, my nerves closer to the edge.

He leaned forward close enough I could feel his hot breath cascading across my cheek. "Yes. They were very real and extremely dangerous." He didn't blink as he studied me more intently than he had before.

A lump formed in my throat, my world feeling as if it had been turned upside down. "Human beings?"

His wry smile returned. "If you can call the men who enjoyed killing indiscriminately with no regard for life human beings then yes." He casually took a gulp of his drink and I watched his Adam's apple bobbing, my mind already falling into a strange fog. "Ask the single question you need to know the most."

It was almost as if he was daring me.

The lump was no longer just in my throat but also in my stomach along with hundreds of butterflies. "Fine. Have you killed before?"

He took another swig of his drink, making a clicking sound before placing the glass on the table. "Yes, and I will do so again."