Saint:A Dark Mafia Romance(34)

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.   





 

"And you will watch your mouth, Agent Marlow," she says thinly, her eyes blazing. "Or I might just differ to the very wise suggestion of my captain here." She nods at Liam, who glares at the blubbering, whimpering Marlow and taps a finger against his gun as the men from before drag him off.

"Anton?"

Liam glances up at Connor and shakes his head grimly. "Didn't get barbecued, if that's what you're hoping. We snagged a few of their guys, but Anton and Oleg were spotted escaping."

"And we're gonna hunt them down like fucking dogs, believe me," Damien says fiercely, his gorgeous blue eyes flashing in the fire light.

Aela sighs, her shoulders slumping. "So much for a peace agreement."

The three guys nod grimly as she shakes her head. "This is a war, isn't it."

"Anton knew what he was doing when he sent Oleg and his nephew to sabotage that meeting," Liam says gruffly. "He called down the thunder, and now he can reap the fucking whirlwind."

There's a hand on my arm, and I glance up, falling right into Connor's eyes.

"Give us a minute," he growls at the others before he pulls me aside.

"I think you should go."

I frown. "Excuse me?"

"Run away, princess," he says, his face pained, his jaw tight. "I pulled you into this, kicking and fucking screaming if I remember correctly, and against your will."

"Connor-"

"No, Sierra," his eyes flash. "I-" he looks away, his face flickering orange in the light from the building engulfed in flames before he turns back to me. "I meant every. Fucking. Word I said back there, but I can't bring you into this. I can't, and I won't."

My hands slide up his arms, my lip catching between my teeth as I move closer against him, my eyes dragging up to his.

"But you already did."

He shakes his head. "I never should have-"

"And I'm glad you did," I say softly.

His eyes search mine, his jaw tight and his chest heaving.

"You don't know what you're signing up for."

"Yes, I do."

"Sierra-"

"I know I'm signing up for the first man to ever make me feel. I know something about you makes everything make sense. I know something clicks when I'm with you." I swallow, feeling my heart thundering in my chest. "I know the pieces fit together when you're a part of me."

His arms circle me, pulling me tight. "I can't lose you."

"You won't."

His eyes search mine, his lips so close to mine.

"I need to ask you something important," he says quietly.

I nod solemnly, my eyes never leaving his.

"Have you ever heard of Stockholm syndrome?"

I laugh, punching his chest as he cracks up and hauls me tight against him, kissing the top of my head.

"Have you?" I grin up at him, seeing that spark in his dark eyes - the same glint from that first night, across the shadowed crowd at the Rusty Duck, but this time, I understand the look.

This time, I understand the pain, and the history, and the passion in that look, and I understand the man it's attached to.

"Well if I'd known it was this fun, I'd have gone out and kidnapped a pretty girl like you years ago."

My jaw drops as he grins at me, and I punch his arm again before he pulls me tight, tilts my head back, and kisses me.

Fiercely.

"Hey, princess."

"Yes, criminal?"

Connor grins. "Everything I said before? About you leaving?"

I raise a brow.

"Try it and I'll just have to come tie you up all over again."

"Yes, please," I breathe as he swoops me up into him, his lips searing to mine and stealing my breath away.

Stealing my heart away.

He's good at that.





Epilogue





Connor




The ferry heaves gently under our feet with the tide. It's a huge fucking boat, and it's not much of a pitch, but it's just enough to pull her body back against me.

My eyes scan the water ahead of us, the sky cloudy, the ocean grey.

My kinda day, truth be told.

The huge boat rumbles forward, and as the mist clears a little, I finally get a glimpse of our destination, way off on the horizon.

Shelter Harbor - Sierra's clean, wholesome, white picket fence hometown, where we're heading for dinner at her parent's house. Oh, and where I'll be meeting them for the first time.

Me - the Boston Southie street kid, heading to Shelter fucking Harbor for family dinner with Sierra's clean-cut, loving, wholesome parents.

And two brothers.   





 

And two sisters.

And three significant others.

And a little nephew.

And a fucking partridge in a pear tree.

Oh, and it's worth mentioning that Sierra's father is a damn reverend.

 … Lord have mercy on my soul.

But it's time, and I'm not going to put off meeting the woman I love's family another second. Even if it means taking the ferry there from Boston, at her insistence, even though driving would've been twice as fast.

The things we do for love, right?

It's been eight months since the night of the fire, and a lot's changed. For one, the Saint's really are still moving in a much more legitimate direction, despite the threat of a war with the Ukrainians. We've stopped the gun trade, no more hit and runs, no shakedowns. Hell, Aela's working with some small business nonprofits and some sort of angel investment types to set up a way for the Saints as an organization to invest in local, legitimate businesses.