Saint (A Dark Mafia Romance)(57)
This isn’t good.
This is starting to go places it shouldn’t. An escape from life in the form of a wild, filthy, no-strings sex-cation is one thing. Letting go completely and letting this gorgeous, dark, broken, dangerous man claim my body every way he wants until I’m screaming for more is another thing altogether.
It’s the feelings that are starting to creep to the surface surrounding that which are the problem.
“Where’s your phone?” Connor calls from inside the house.
“My bag, by the sofa!” I yell over my shoulder before I turn back to grin like a lunatic at the ocean.
Because this is me feeling something I’m not sure I’ve ever felt before, and while that does scare the shit out of me, it also leaves me breathless and spinning.
It leaves me feeling safe, and whole, and better than I have in longer than I can remember.
“Which phone.”
I grin, feeling my heart still swelling bigger than it’s been in a long freaking time at the sound of the door swinging back open and his voice behind me from the doorway.
Swelling, that is, until I actually hear what’s just said. Because after that, it’s like something icy comes clutching up to chill my heart to the core.
I freeze. “What?”
“I said which phone,” Connor growls.
The hair on the back of my neck raises, and my heart suddenly drops right through the floor as I turn.
“Connor-”
“What is this, Sierra,” he says darkly, his voice edged. My heart beats like a drum as I eye the phone that Agent Marlow gave me, which is now clutched in Connor’s hand.
…The phone I’ve never even mentioned to him.
“It’s nothing,” I say quickly. “It’s just a-”
“A burner phone.”
I swallow. “For emergencies, yeah.”
“There is one number programmed into it. One number that’s called it.”
I freeze, and his eyes narrow coldly as he shakes his head
“Agent fucking Marlow,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He strides closer to me, his body hard and on edge as he looms over me. His eyes fiercely glare into mine, making me cringe.
“What did you tell him?!”
“Nothing!”
“Sierra!”
“Nothing!” I yell this time.
I’m scared because of course I am, but I’m also mostly just hating myself. I’m hating myself for not telling him, and once again doing everything I can to self-sabotage my life.
Like I always do.
“At your loft, when he cornered me in the garage, he made me take it.”
“You should have told me.”
I swallow heavily, my eyes finding his. “I know, and I’m sorry, I just didn’t know-”
“But you didn’t.”
“Connor, I-”
“Do you have any fucking idea what it means in my world when someone’s talking with the goddamn Feds?”
I shake my head, my blood roaring in my ears.
“My brother is in jail because someone fucking talked to the Feds.”
“I thought Liam-”
“My other brother, Gray.” He chokes out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “But you wouldn’t know that, because that’s not what this is, is it?” he hisses. “This isn’t anything where you need to know who my fucking family is, is it?”
My fear suddenly turns to anger as I narrow my eyes at him. “Oh, because you know all about my family, right? Because this was so much more to you than just fucking the silly girl having a life-crisis, right?” I glare at him. “Don’t you dare throw family in my face. Like you have any fucking clue about my fa-”
“Stella, Ivy, Kyle, and Rowan, who owns a dive bar.”
He smiles thinly, tapping his head.
I glare at him.
“It was one phone conversation. It’s not like I was ratting out your precious little gang or someth-”
“And that better be true,” he growls. “For your sake.”
I slowly shake my head at him, my lips curling. “Or what? You going to ‘make me an offer I can’t refuse,’ Connor? Am I going to ‘sleep with the fishes’?” I spit sarcastically in this ridiculously comical movie-gangster voice as he just glares silently at me.
“This isn’t the fucking Soprano’s, Conn-”
“You’re goddamn right it’s not!” he roars, suddenly moving towards me, making me shrink back on the loveseat.
“It’s not a damn TV show, Sierra, it’s real fucking life. It’s my real fucking life, and I wouldn’t expect some privileged little college girl from perfect little white clapboard, picket-fenced Shelter goddamn Harbor to understand that in the slightest fucking bit.”