Saint (A Dark Mafia Romance)(69)

Heat explodes over my back, acrid smoke burns my lungs, tears stream down my face, and our legs carry us barreling forward, with no concept of which way is out in this fiery hell. There’s another shattering, crushing sound of the roof giving way, I’m screaming, Connor is yelling, his arms suddenly scooping me up as he starts to run…

And then suddenly, we’re out of it.

We go crashing through a doorway, or it might be a window or a hole in the wall, but suddenly, there’s air, and solid ground, and a lack of flames burning us.

Connor takes us stumbling five more steps before he collapses, both of us tumbling to the ground. There are voices, and people running towards us, and I want to scream at how fucking unfair it is that we’ve made it out only to be snagged by the goddamn Ukrainians again, when suddenly a hand lands on my arm. A calm, rough and yet soothing voice speaks to me.

In English, without a Balkan accent.

“Easy, darlin’, easy. I’ve got you.”

Hands pull me up, and a blanket is suddenly swirling around me. Water pours against my lips, and I choke, slurping at it and almost crying with the sweet joy of the cool liquid running over my lips.

“You okay, hon?” a woman’s voice says, hands rubbing my arms. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

I open my eyes, and I almost take a step back.

She’s beautiful - glowing, fiery red hair and dark brown, calculating eyes. But it’s the man standing next to her that throws me for a momentary loop.

He’s Connor, but not. Connor with a slightly younger face, a softer, more boyish smile, and crystal blue eyes, rather than dark brown. He’s certainly handsome, and he’s got that same fierce look that Connor does.

I nod as he peers at me. “I’m okay,” I choke out.

I glance urgently past them at Connor, currently being pulled to his feet by a second guy – blonde, built, with chiseled good looks.

“Always gotta show off, huh?” The guy says with a grin as he hauls Connor up.

Connor ignores him, his eyes roaming wildly until they lock onto me. And they never leave mine as he shoves all three of them out of the way, stumbles into me, and scoops me into his arms. His lips find mine and I swear I never want them to leave.

And for one minute, the rest of it fades away. For a minute, with his lips on mine, his breath mingling with mine, and his strong arms holding me tight, I forget about the rest of it - the fire, the pain, the brush with death, or the strangers standing around us.

The guy who gave me water and a blanket coughs. Connor ignores him, and goes right on kissing me, until I shyly pull away, my brows arching as I grin at him. He grins back before he turns.

“What.”

The younger guy rolls his eyes at him.

“So, you’re Sierra,” the red-haired woman says, eyes appraising me.

I nod, feeling Connor’s arm go around me.

The woman slowly grins.

“Thanks for saving my idiot big brother here,” the guy next to her says with a smirk.

Connor chuckles. “Sierra, my little brother Liam, and this is Aela.”

That’s when I realize I’m talking to the head of the Boston Irish crime world, which isn’t exactly something you can say to yourself every day.

“And this is Damian,” Connor nods at the good looking blonde guy behind them, who helped him to his feet.

I smile. “Oh, the grocery guy!”

Damian laughs, his bright blue eyes flickering as he pushes a hand through his hair. “Yeah, that’s me. Grocery guy.”

“Oy! Check out who we found!”

The fire’s still raging behind us as we turn to see four guys with guns hauling a choking, wheezing, sputtering figure towards us.

Marlow.

Marlow whose eyes go wide when they see me, and downright fearful when they spot Connor.

The men march him over, and I can feel Connor tense next to me.

“This fucking guy,” Liam hisses, drawing his gun.

My eyes go wide before suddenly, Aela’s hand goes out and stays his.

“Hang on.”

Liam’s eyes blaze. “You know this piece of garbage deserves a bullet,” he growls through clenched teeth, eyeing his fiancée. “We should oblige him.”

“No, we shouldn’t.”

Connor’s voice cuts through like a knife.

“Killing him is a temporary solution,” he says evenly. “Now leveraging him, though…”

Aela smiles and nods. “I think the Feds might be willing to trade some favors to have him back in their hands.”

“Fuck you, cunt. Fuck you and your fucking-”

Every guy there is about to react, but Aela does first, whirling and swinging a solid looking fist right into Agent Marlow’s nose.

I immediately want to be this chick’s friend.