Tempting Devil (Saint Trilogy #2)

Prologue

End of Cruel Saint

Imogene

I didn’t think today was ever going to end. Not because I didn’t love my job.

But because of all the texts Gideon kept sending, each one becoming increasingly explicit, turning me on more and more.

Which was incredibly inconvenient, since I was at work and couldn’t do anything about the ache between my legs.

It got so bad that I told him I was turning off my phone and would text him when I was off work.

So he could hopefully get me off.

I just prayed he would be able to come over. I was desperate to see him. Not just to have sex, although that certainly entered into the equation.

But because I genuinely enjoyed his company. I loved how he accepted me as I was, quirks and all.

Loved how good he was to Ollie, something Liam never was.

Loved how we could sit in silence and it not feel awkward, like during our road trip down the coast.

The more time I spent with him, the more I believed some higher power sent him my way to help heal the hole in my heart left behind by Samuel’s absence.

Better yet, maybe Samuel sent him to tell me it was okay to move on.

Approaching my car, I hit the unlock button on my key fob and opened the door. My bag landed on the passenger’s seat with a thump as I climbed behind the wheel, pulling out my cell and powering it on.

As expected, I was bombarded with multiple texts.

But they weren’t from Gideon.

Instead, they were from Melanie, my parents, and even Liam.

But that wasn’t all.

A breaking news alert flashed across the screen, announcing that Alton Sinclair had been found in a remote mountain cabin, dead from an apparent suicide.

Regret squeezed at my chest as I recalled some of the things I’d said about him. I was never particularly close to him. I always found him somewhat egotistical and pompous. Not to mention, I hated how he treated women and definitely didn’t approve of his business practices that had come to light in recent days.

Regardless of my personal feelings toward him, I still didn’t wish death on him.

I quickly hit Melanie’s contact as I put my car into drive, my mind spinning.

“Gin!” Melanie exhaled, relief filling her voice. “I was so worried. Your phone was going straight to voicemail, and after…” She trailed off, her words catching. “Well, I’m glad you’re okay. Did you hear about Alton?”

“I did,” I replied in a shaky voice. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“I knew you were at work, but after everything.” She fought to reel in her emotions. “I didn’t even like that asshole, but I can’t believe he’s?—”

“I know.” I swallowed hard. “Have you spoken with Liam?”

“A few hours ago.”

“How is he?”

“I don’t know. He sounded…off.”

“Off?” I echoed.

“I don’t know how to explain it. I’m heading down right now to see him. Will you be there?” she asked hesitantly, fully aware of the argument we got into a few days ago.

Now I felt even worse about that argument.

What if I’d turned on my phone and learned Liam had died? I’d never forgive myself for the way I treated him. We may have had our disagreements, but I wasn’t completely heartless. I still cared about him.

“I’ll be there,” I assured her.

“Good. See you soon. Drive carefully.”

“You, too.”

“And Imogene?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, Mel.”

I ended the call, then tossed my cell onto the front seat, sending up a silent prayer for Alton. I’d never been one to pray, but it felt like the right thing to do. Plus, what else was I going to do while I inched along the freeway?

After a longer than normal drive through heavy traffic, I finally pulled up to the ornate gate at the entrance to Liam’s house and punched in my access code. I half expected it wouldn’t work. Thankfully, the gate sprung open and I navigated my car up the cobbled drive, parking in front of his home.

“Ms. Prescott,” Liam’s housekeeper greeted when she answered the door.

“I’m sorry for showing up like this, but is Liam— Mr. Pierce here? I just heard the news and wanted to check on him.”

She gave me a sympathetic smile. “Of course, dear. He’s in his office with Senator Turner. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you, though. They both will.”

“Thank you.” I stepped into the cavernous entryway, my footfalls echoing against the polished marble tile.

As I walked down the darkened hallway toward his office, a heavy sense of unease settled over me. I tried to brush it off, tell myself it was natural for there to be an ominous feeling in the air. Alton had just killed himself, for crying out loud.

But as I drew closer to Liam’s office, the feeling intensified, sending a chill down my spine. I paused outside the door and drew in a deep breath before reaching out to knock. When I heard raised voices coming from inside, I hesitated, straining to listen.

“Maybe it’s an old glass,” Liam said, his tone laced with anxiety. “One that hasn’t been washed lately.”

“One that was conveniently left on the coffee table next to Alton’s?” James countered, his voice mirroring the nerves in Liam’s.

“What other possible explanation is there?” Liam interjected, his frustration increasing by the second.

I imagined him pacing the length of the room as he tugged on his hair. Or tie. Or guzzled whatever he was drinking.

It was more than apparent something had him on edge. Something to do with a glass. But what glass? And why was that important? Did they find something indicating that perhaps Alton didn’t kill himself?

“Somebody must have made a mistake,” Liam continued, as if his declaration would make it so. “Have them run the prints again.”

“They already have. Twice . Along with quite a few other items found in close proximity to Alton’s body. Initially, it was to confirm the cause of death, but the second glass on the coffee table stumped them, so they ran it to see if someone else was in the room with Alton.” He lowered his voice. “To see if maybe you were in the room with him, considering…recent events.”

“I told you!” Liam roared. “I have no idea how that damn body ended up on my boat. I haven’t been to that marina in months. There’s no record of me using my access card at the gate.”

“I believe you, but that doesn’t change the evidence they uncovered at Alton’s cabin.”

No one spoke for several long moments, the only sound that of a grandfather clock keeping time in the distance.

“What does this mean?” Liam asked finally.

“Either someone planted his fingerprints there to fuck with us.”

“Or…” Liam prodded, although I could hear the hesitation in his voice.

“Or Samuel Tate’s back from the dead.”