Giving It to the Bad Guy (Saints and Sinners MC Book 3) (11 page)

“We’re all good. The apartment has been emptied and put up for rent. As far as anyone is concerned, Ralf has gone away, and not left a forwarding address,” Saint said.

“You killed him?” Knife asked.

“Like I said, the club comes first.”

Knife stared at the man, the Prez of the Saints and Sinners MC, and for the first time ever, he felt a little chill go through him. Saint was a cold bastard, and with each passing kill, he was getting colder still. Unlike his name, he was anything but a saint.

Finishing his beer, he saluted both Prez’s and walked toward his woman. Taking Bluebell out of her arms, he pulled Sarah against him, kissing her head.

“When do you want one?” she asked.

“Not yet, not for some time.” Closing his eyes, he inhaled her sweet scent. “How are you handling everything?”

“I’m doing okay. You don’t need to worry. I’m a big girl.” She let out a sigh.

“Do you miss him?” Knife asked.

She looked up at him, and sighed. “Would it make me a bad person if I said no?”

“No, it wouldn’t make you a bad person.”

“I love you, Knife. I’m your wife, and there’s nowhere else I want to be.”

They had spent a lot of time talking about Ralf, and how she felt about him.

Elena took Bluebell from him, and for the rest of the night, he kept Sarah in his arms. The club didn’t hold Ralf’s death against either of them, and Sarah still had her job at Dirty Deeds.

Later that night, after they had made love, he held her tightly against him. Sarah was smiling at him. “You don’t have to treat me like I’ll break at any minute.”

“You’ve had a lot of stress.”

“No, I haven’t. I can handle being questioned, Knife.” She cupped his cheek. “I’m a strong woman. Please, don’t forget that.”

He kissed her deeply, inhaling her scent, which always calmed him.

“Knife?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“I want to have a baby.”

Opening his eyes, he stared at her. “You want to have a baby?”

“You said to ask whenever I want something, and I want to start a family with you.”

Knife groaned. “I was hoping for another couple of years.”

“Well, it will take us some time to actually have a baby. It could be a while before I’m pregnant.”

Nine months later, she gave birth to a screaming baby boy.

Epilogue

Saint entered his home, the one that his father had put in his name when he took care of his first kill. He rarely came back to this house as it was always cold, and he didn’t exactly know why he was there now.

Locking the door, he threw the key in the jar, and paused when he caught sight of a bloodstain on the wall.

Closing his eyes, he rubbed at his temples, wondering if he was finally losing his mind. Opening his eyes again, the bloodstain was still there. Reaching behind him, he grabbed his gun, and slowly started to make his way into his home. He followed the stains and the scuff marks into the kitchen. The basement door was also open, and he sighed.

“Whoever you are, come out now. I’ve got my gun, and I suggest you come out with your hands first, now.” Saint turned the light on, stepped back, and waited.

Hands appeared out of the darkness first, and he saw they were bruised, covered in dirt and blood.

Tensing up, he watched the arms, and suddenly breasts, and then, he saw
her.

“Natasha?”

Her red hair was streaked with mud and filth, her face covered in bruises and blood, and she was bleeding.

“Help me,” she said.

He caught her before she fell back downstairs.

Dropping his gun, he was sent a little prayer that it didn’t go off. Capturing Natasha in his arms, he carried her up toward his bed. He didn’t care about the mess. Grabbing his cell phone, he put a call through to the doc.

Putting his cell on the bed, he moved the pillows so she looked comfortable. Her lip was split, one side of her face was completely bruised, and when he looked down at her body, he was sickened by what he saw. There were cuts and bruises. It was like she had been used as a punching bag. Blood was everywhere.

Her chest was moving up and down, and he grabbed a chair, taking a seat to watch over her.

Grabbing her hand, he watched her, scared that if for a second he looked away, she would disappear.

“The club is changing you, and you don’t even see it.”

“Saint, this man you’re becoming, he’s dangerous. I don’t trust you anymore. You don’t even see what you’re doing is wrong. I’ve got to go before you hurt me as well.”

The words she said came back to him.

“Saint?” she said.

He looked up to see she was awake.

“It really is you.”

“Natasha, what the hell happened? How did you get into the house? How did you even know about the house?” He tightened his hold on her hand. From the moment she had been gone, he’d been dying inside. She had been in his life for less than half an hour, and already, it was like he was waking up from a deep sleep.

“You always left the key inside the last plant pot in the dirt. This was the last place I saw you, remember? I begged you to leave with me.”

“I stayed.”

“You stayed.”

“Natasha, who did this to you?”

Her eyes started to go heavy, and Saint saw she was in a great deal more pain.

She was dying, and he couldn’t let that happen. If she died, there was no way he was ever going to come back from it.

Picking her up, he ran down to the garage toward the old pickup truck his dad had owned.

“You’re not going to die. You’re not going to die.”

The End

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