Saint's Fall (Fallen Saints MC Book 3) Read online

  Saint was the same. He probably would go down in some violent end, but he’d want his body buried here.

  “The preacher’s daughter?” Devil asked. “The one you couldn’t stop mooning over for years?”

  “She’s the one.”

  “Smells like trouble,” Devil said with a snort.

  “Mind your own fucking business, brother. Go home to your wife. She needs you. Leave me to my own.” Saint left a generous tip on the table.

  He flashed the waitress cleaning their mess up with a smile. She didn’t meet his gaze. Most of the plebs in this little shithole of a town couldn’t. They were all terrified of him but clung to the protection and help of his club when a threat arose. Saint was their monster and they were privately glad he was on their side.

  Not Olivia. Even at eighteen, she’d been brazen and innocent. Terribly young, but somehow, she’d known what she wanted. Him. Ten years ago, if she’d been a little older and didn’t make Saint feel like he was some criminal, he would’ve taken her. Made her his.

  If he’d done that, she would’ve been trapped in Redemption forever. Olivia wouldn’t have become a nurse. Someone who saved lives while Saint took them. Yet, here they both were, ten years later. Older and harder. At least Saint was.

  Saint’s pants felt a little tight as he waded through the crowd to catch up to her. His long legs gave him the advantage. He reached the exit before she did.

  They collided right outside the bar. Olivia bumped into his chest. She probably was in a such hurry to leave she didn’t see him at all.

  “Fancy seeing you here,” he said.

  Olivia halted, staring at him, shock imprinted on her features. “How did you get there?” she demanded, looking from the bar and back to him.

  Saint crooked a finger at her, and they stepped to one side as a group entered O’Riley’s.

  “You haven’t answered my question,” Saint drawled. He took out a cigarette stick and lit it. He wouldn’t offer her one, but he didn’t think she smoked.

  “I don’t owe you any answers.” Olivia bit her lip as if she suddenly regretted her response.

  Saint studied her under the yellow glow of the fluorescent lights. The years had been good to her. Her long, brown curls were tamed into a single braid that fell over her shoulder.

  Saint wanted to tug the band off and free all that glorious hair so he could wrap it in his fist. He’d tilt her head back and finally taste those luscious lips. She tasted like raspberries, he remembered. Would she still taste the same?

  What a pity she wore that ugly and oversized sweater that concealed her glorious curves. Still, he could make out the generous swell of her breasts. Her legs looked amazing in the skinny jeans she wore. He licked his lips. Here he was, looking at her like some kind of savage who could barely control himself. An animal. Saint underestimated the effect she had on him.

  She hadn’t told him to go screw himself despite the fact she had every reason to. They parted on angry terms, all those years ago. She had screamed out his name with obscenities after he kissed her and rode away on his Harley.

  “Let me guess. You need something from me?” he asked.

  It was a gamble asking her that outright. When she dropped her gaze, Saint knew he hit the jackpot. A blush filled her cheeks and neck. He could tell she was ashamed, although she had no reason to be.

  Folks generally went to him if they had problems they thought he and his club could take care of. Another man might’ve been disappointed, but not he. Saint was fucking pleased. Olivia could’ve walked away, but her need proved greater.

  Perfect. Saint would have plenty of time to make up for his past mistake. Olivia hadn’t returned to his life by sheer dumb luck. She came to him because she needed him. That was fine. For now. Sooner or later, Saint would wrap her around his little finger.

  He’d make sure she’d craved only him, no other man. Olivia would be so addicted to him, to his touches, to his kisses and dick, that she’d never think of leaving Redemption again.

  “Yeah, that’s it,” she finally answered. “I wouldn’t have gone to you otherwise.”

  “Gone?” He raised his eyebrows. “You bumped into me on purpose?”

  “I didn’t,” she blurted. “I didn’t realize you were standing out here. If I knew—”

  She faltered as Saint drew near. Olivia seemed discomforted, but he didn’t give her space. Saint was an asshole and he wasn’t going to apologize for it. He wanted, no needed, to know she still felt the same way about him the way he did. Fucking hell, but one look and Saint was already obsessed with her. Madly in lust with her all over again.

  Olivia didn’t know it, but she frequently starred in his erotic dreams. His fantasies. Even when he rode a club whore, it was her face he pictured. Always her. There had never been anyone else. Saint never felt this way about anyone, not even Sadie, his ex-wife from hell and mother to his daughter, Bonnie.

  “Finish that sentence,” he said. Using his two fingers, Saint tipped her chin, amused she batted them away.

  “I need your help,” she said stubbornly.

  Olivia took a step back. Saint decided to give her some breathing room, admiring her silently. Not just anyone would have the balls to admit they needed his help. Olivia phrased it in a way that she almost expected Saint to give her his aid without a second thought.

  He would. Saint would give her the fucking world if he could, but she didn’t need to know how much power she held over him. Not yet.

  It was crazy, the way he was reacting to this woman he hadn’t seen in ten entire years. He didn’t even know if she was single. For all he knew, she was married to some rich doctor, but Saint dismissed the thought.

  She came to the bar alone tonight. He didn’t see any ring on her finger either. Which meant she was fair game, but only to him. Saint would gladly eliminate any potential rivals along the way.

  “Can we talk? Somewhere else?” she asked. “Alone?”

  Saint couldn’t help it. He laughed. The annoyed look she flashed him, fuck. That was perfect.

  “What’s so funny?” she asked.

  “Not many people would want to be alone with me,” he told her point-blank. With Olivia, Saint would never lie.

  She swallowed, as if she was second-guessing her decision. Too late for that. Saint wouldn’t allow her to squirm away.

  “Then come along. We’ll take my bike and we’ll go somewhere private,” he said.

  He offered his hand to her, just like any gentleman would. Olivia took the bait. She clasped his fingers and gasped when he pulled her toward her.

  He’d been wanting to do this for ages. Saint thought he could wait, bide his time, but he couldn’t. Her plump lips looked so ripe for the taking. Saint kissed her and the sweet taste of her wrapped around him like a snare.

  Chapter Three

  Olivia should shove him away, but she found that she couldn’t. The demanding press of his lips sought her submission and she couldn’t help but give in. Saint was all heat and bite, and she craved it.

  Despite her earlier reluctance, she found herself responding with equal passion. Olivia gripped his shoulders, refusing to let go. The world narrowed down its scope to just the two of them. How long had she dreamed of this moment when he’d kissed her again?

  Except Olivia was no longer the awkward blushing teenager she’d been ten years ago. She gave him a little push, knowing if this went any further, she’d let Saint do whatever he wanted with her. Hell, she’d even beg him for more.

  In his arms, she easily fell apart. Olivia always prided herself on being a strong woman, one who didn’t let a man order her around. He gave her some breathing room, his gray eyes searching hers. Whatever this was, it was best they didn’t pursue it.

  She knew Saint’s kind. One woman wouldn’t satiate him, let alone drag him down the path of monogamy. If she went down this road, it would only lead her to heartache and misery.

  “Where’s your bike?” she asked, still a little bre
athless.

  Olivia disliked the effect he had on her. How he could easily turn her entire world around with a single kiss? Things like this only happened in movies and books, not real life.

  “This way, baby.”

  “I’m not your baby, so don’t call me that. In fact, I’m not your anything.” She flushed. Snapping at him hadn’t been her intention, but her mind took her back to the past, to his rejection all those years ago.

  “Give it time. That’ll change,” he said with an easy arrogance that was so like him.

  What was she saying? Saint was practically a stranger to her. They hardly knew anything about each other. She’d only met him all those years ago thanks to Marsha, whose mother was a club whore.

  She halted in her footsteps. His restored black Harley looked menacing under the dim lights of the parking lot. Imposing. Yet, at the sight of it, excitement hummed in her veins.

  Olivia envisioned herself sitting behind him on that metal monster, her arms wrapped around his big body. Her hair whipping behind her as they cruised the streets of Redemption.

  A random passerby could easily mistake her for Saint’s queen, except that would be a lie. Men like Saint didn’t settle down. They rode solo for the rest of their life.

  “We’ll see about that,” she said with a huff.

  He chuckled, clearly amused by her discomfort. If this was Brett, he’d either smack her for running her mouth on him or beg for her forgiveness. Brett was crazy that way. It had taken her a long time to figure out her ex had two sides to him. The good and bad.

  Saint handed her a spare helmet. “Need help putting that on?”

  “No thank you.” Olivia fumbled with it for a few moments but managed to set the strap under her chin after three tries. “What about you? No helmet?”

  “I like the feel of the wind on my face. Don’t worry. I’m a careful driver.”

  “Didn’t you drink tonight?”

  Saint held out one finger to her. His smile looked almost boyish under the moonlight. A pretty illusion. She had a feeling a hard man like Saint seldom gave smiles and yet here he was, curving his lips for her. It always seemed like he genuinely liked her.

  Liked her? Who was she trying to kid?

  Saint was probably used to getting whatever and whoever he wanted, no questions asked. Yet he hadn’t pushed her tonight. He didn’t proposition her or tell her he wanted her body in exchange for her help.

  A laugh slipped from her lips. It all sounded absurd in her head. Why would Saint want plain old her when he could have any woman in the world?

  He dropped his smile. “What’s wrong? Changed your mind?”

  “No. Just wondering why you’d give me the time of the night to listen to my plea.”

  His narrowed gray eyes glinted like hard steel. “I always have time for you, Olivia,” he said in an unexpectedly soft and tender voice.

  Hearing it unhinged her a little more. She hadn’t gotten on his Harley. Olivia could still back out. Play the chicken. Her father would turn in his grave, knowing the daughter he raised so strictly would willingly ride off into the night with the town’s most notorious criminal.

  “Ten years ago, you gave me the impression you didn’t like me.” The words tumbled out of her mouth, unbidden.

  Why was she seeking a fight with Saint when she clearly needed his help? Still, Olivia had to know. Why had he turned her away all those years ago? Why would he offer her his ear in her greatest moment of peril?

  “A man can change in a decade,” he answered, voice harsh. His intense gaze drank her down and Olivia was lost in it for a moment. She shook herself, rubbing the left sleeve of her sweater with her right hand.

  “Did you remember your parting words to me?” she asked, because she did.

  “I do. I said, ‘Little girls shouldn’t be playing games with adult men,’” he told her flat-out. Another man would’ve flinched or looked guilty. Saint didn’t. He held her gaze and didn’t let go.

  Olivia had turned those cruel words over and over in her head during plenty of sleepless nights. Nights she cried herself to sleep like a pathetic child. Growing up in Redemption and only being known as the crazy preacher’s daughter had limited her social circles. She and her dad didn’t talk. The only people she could confide in were Marsha and Saint.

  Sometimes, Marsha and she would swing by the clubhouse to pick up Marsha’s mom. He’d always be there, smoking, drinking, and talking with his men. Olivia once ran into his personal office, in tears because her then-boyfriend broke up with her via text message. He didn’t tell her to get out. Saint listened to her and offered her his shoulder to cry on.

  “Fuck, Olivia,” he finally said, breaking the silence. “You were too young for me. Too pure and innocent. I would’ve destroyed you. Your future. You had such promise. Look at you now. You’ve become a nurse. A healer.”

  The pride in his voice shocked her to pieces. “Let me guess. You heard that from my dad?”

  “Folks here talk,” Saint said with a shrug. “I have little mice everywhere, willing to tell me what goes on in my town.”

  My town. Of course. Redemption was Saint’s little kingdom. He was king here and she was—what was she exactly to him? A charity case? The girl he regretted not fucking? Whatever the case was, she refused to believe he was genuinely interested in her as a woman, an equal or a potential partner. Still, Saint had a good side.

  Olivia went over his words in her head. Most of the locals would call Saint a monster. A heartless criminal, but they didn’t know the real him. Saint might do plenty of bad things in the name of his club, but deep down, he was a good man. Or so she still continued to believe.

  “What about now?” she asked. “Am I still too young for you?”

  “Fuck no.” Saint ran his inked and scarred knuckles over her left cheekbone, making her shiver in anticipation. The wind blew at their faces. The cold made her nipples pebble. She shifted her feet together, all too aware of the moisture gathering between her legs. How was it possible she still had such a visceral reaction to this man she hadn’t seen in years?

  “No?” she inquired.

  Saint leaned in to whisper close to her ear. His breath was warm. “You don’t know it yet, but I’m going to make you mine, baby.”

  “There you go again, being all presumptuous.”

  “Get on the bike, Olivia.” Saint mounted his bike. He gripped one of the handlebars and the other, he extended to her. “You getting on or you planning to stand there all night?”

  Olivia slung one leg over his ride. She hesitated at first, then hugged his waist. Olivia inhaled the scent of him as he revved up the engine. Beer. Smoke. Old leather. Underneath that all was the scent of Old Spice and everything nice.

  She remembered perching herself on his desk in his private office, swinging her legs back and forth as she told him about Brad and her ill luck with boys. He smelled like this, she thought, pressing her nose between his shoulder blades.

  She rested her hands on his steel-hard abs and held on as tightly as she could. Tonight was an illusion. A dream. Saint would listen to her request. He might even help. If he demanded payment that didn’t involve cash, then she might even willingly offer herself up to him.

  Olivia however, wouldn’t make the same mistake as she did ten years ago. She wasn’t letting this man anywhere near her heart.

  “You’re going to be the fucking death of me,” she heard him murmur. Then he blasted off into the cold night.

  Chapter Four

  Saint had a hard time focusing on the road, especially with the warmth of Olivia’s body pressed behind him. Tonight, he’d risked taking a kiss from her just to satiate his growing need.

  The brief clash of their mouths proved futile because he wanted more. He would’ve stripped off her baggy clothes right there and then if he could. Then he’d ravage her. Show her what she was missing out on.

  Turn your mind away from the gutter, he reminded himself. Saint couldn’t act like a beast whe
n it came to her. Olivia was the one who’d gotten away. She was special. He’d always known that truth in his bones. He passed Main Street and started on a small road that would take them to Heartbreak Hill. That was what the teenagers used to call the hill that sat on the edge of the town. Saint encountered no one during their ride.

  All and good. Saint brought her here so they’d have privacy. He killed the engine when they reached the top. He felt her dismount.

  “I can’t believe this little lookout spot is still here,” she murmured.

  Saint dismounted and took the helmet she offered.

  “This is where couples used to go to make out,” she said. “There’s no one here now. Why is that?”

  “The kids think this place is haunted,” Saint with a scoff. “Three years ago, two hikers, a couple, took their lives here. Since then, locals avoided coming here. Do you believe in ghosts, Olivia?”

  She shook her head. They walked to the edge and stared out at the town. From this view, Redemption was a small glowing dot in the distance. Saint often came here alone when he needed time to think and reflect.

  “Tell me everything,” he prodded.

  “His name is Brett,” she started, wrapping her arms around her body.

  Saint was tempted to pull her close to him. He wouldn’t try anything funny, merely wanted to offer her comfort. Saint didn’t just want her for sex. Hell, he wanted to know every single goddamn thing about her. What made her laugh. Weep. The things she liked. Hated. All. He stood his ground.

  “Another nurse introduced us. He’s a retired investment banker with plenty of time on his hands. Back then, I thought he was charming, a complete gentleman.” She paused. Olivia stared off into the distance, her gaze faraway.

  Screw being polite. Saint brushed his hand over her arm, and she blinked, returning to reality. Olivia flashed him a grateful smile that didn’t fail to wake his cock. Focus, he reminded himself. Unnamed jealousy rammed into him as he thought of her being with someone else. Olivia didn’t need to explain any further. This fucker Brett had left plenty of inner scars on her. She spoke his name with fear, and he didn’t like that. The Olivia he’d known had been terrifyingly fearless. Confident. Bold. A queen in her own right.