Chapter 4
SAINT
The sound of that violin and the haunting melody is still packed tightly in my head. In my chest. It picks at an old wound, one that can never truly close. Not for as long as I’m still alive, still able to remember my family.
I squeeze my fists tight again, trying to relieve some of the pressure, but my past is so close to the surface that I can’t get the image of my wife’s and son’s faces out of my head.
It hurts to want to, but it hurts more to think about them this much. To feel their absence. The guilt over their deaths.
Judge knocks, pulling me out of my spiraling thoughts. I grunt, and it’s enough of a sign for him to enter. He closes the door behind him, and I sigh. “What is it?”
“The girl—woman—with the violin is Wren Delaney. The senator’s daughter.”
Not what I was expecting, but I should have. It’s my luck. “That’s not what we need.”
“No, but she genuinely needs our help. And if what my gut is telling me is right, she won’t be safe here for long even if we keep her hidden.”
I rub my face with my palms, wishing I could get the melody of her song out of my head.
I’m not going to like whatever suggestion Judge is about to make, but I ask anyway. “What plan do you have up your sleeve?”
“Someone should marry her. Legally. On paper at least.”
“You want her to hand herself over to one of us. For her own safety?”
He sighs like I’m being particularly obtuse. “Not exactly. A fake marriage with real legal consequences.”
“And who would you trust her with?”
Judge meets my gaze again, and my stomach sinks. “You. You don’t have to touch her. But she’ll need you to pull this off.”
I rub my forehead, the bridge of my nose. The ache in my chest amplifies, my wife’s face greeting me behind my closed eyes. What would she say about this?
Letting loose a long breath, I meet Judge’s too observant gaze. “Get JP to see how Dalton’s reacting before you bring her back here.”
Judge nods and leaves me to mull over the implications of the storm that’s just blown in. Wren fucking Delaney. She hit the periphery of our research, but she’s not in the middle of the family business at least. She might not even know anything about what her father, brother, or fiancé do.
JP, our club’s resident hacker, will find whatever’s out there on her and report back with the most important information. Like if this is a trap or if she’s here to help the powers at be take us down.
Plenty of groups want that. We’re not the typical motorcycle club, and we defy them outright to protect our interests, which tend to oppose theirs. Her family and fiancé’s family would love to put an end to us.
I won’t let that happen.
My wife’s stern expression surfaces in my vision and all thoughts of letting the girl fend for herself evaporate. She wouldn’t want me not to protect Wren Delaney, even if it means doing something I promised I would never do.
Remarry. Replace her with someone new. Create a new family without her.
The dull ache turns sharp beneath my ribs. Fifteen years without her. Without Izzy.
I protect others the way that I do because of them. Because no one was there to protect them while I was overseas protecting others.
My mind spins in circles until Judge returns a half hour later. A curvy red head in a ruined wedding dress steps into my office behind him.
Her green eyes shine with intelligence. Awareness. And when she looks into my eyes, she doesn’t flinch away.
My attraction to her is instant and inadvisable, burning its way through my muscles like a livewire.
Doc slips in behind her and helps her to a seat. His hands on her drive a jealousy through me that I’m not prepared for.
On their trail, JP comes in with his laptop. The grim look he gives me eliminates any of the weak excuses I lined up to refute this.
I move my mug for him to use the corner of my desk.
He nods and crouches down to show me the missing person’s report with Wren’s demure smile attached. She appears far more the socialite in the picture than she does in my office.
The details describe her wedding dress and the car she was seen running in. The man she took it from—in exchange for some high-end antique jewelry—gave a statement that makes her seem unhinged.
The woman before me doesn’t look crazy. Sitting in a ruined wedding dress, yes, but not out of her mind.
Running with a violin in a wedding dress and bare feet…I can see how her fiancé would plant the idea that she merely had cold feet, that she was a silly girl who ran for no other reason than to cause a scene.
Wren watches me examining her—assessing her. She doesn’t wilt an inch, her back straight, poised with her hands folded in the ruined skirts of her dress.
No, she ran for a good reason.
“Tell me what kind of help you’re expecting from us.” My voice is low, authoritative, maybe a little harsh, but I don’t like the way my body is betraying me.
Her eyes round then narrow without fear. “I’m not expecting any. I’ll keep walking if I need to.”
Righteous calm hides most of the trepidation in her voice, but it doesn’t waver even a little bit.
“You don’t have any shoes.”
“Didn’t stop me last time.”
The brows of my men rise, and I shoo JP and Doc out, gesturing for Judge to stay. They follow my orders without a word, although Doc steals one more look at Wren over his shoulder on the way out.
“Did you know your fiancé has already issued a missing persons report for you?”
All of the color drains from her face. “It hasn’t been forty-eight hours.”
“No, it hasn’t. Do you know what that tells me?”
She shakes her head, but I can tell she’s got plenty of answers to that question.
“It tells me that you’re not safe out there on your own.”
The glare she lands on me is exactly the kind of response I want. It burns me deep. She’s the kind of put together, well-bred woman I would never touch in a million years. And here she’s landed in my lap.
“It also means that if I let you stay, I’d be putting my men’s safety at risk. So tell me, how will you make it worth it for us?”
Red burns in her cheeks, rivalling the color of her hair. “What do you expect me to do?”
Ah, such a smart response. “I expect you to pitch in and not cause trouble.”
“And if I decide I’d rather take my chances on my own?”
Dread builds strong and fast. “Then, you’d be free to go, but I can tell you right now, your freedom won’t last long that way. I’ve seen the repercussions from men like Grant Dalton when women don’t fall in line. And it’s not pretty.”
My pause lets her eyes unfocus, remembering whatever sent her running to begin with.
“So it’s up to you, Miss Delaney. Do you want to run off again by yourself? Or do you want our protection?”
She swallows hard, avoiding eye contact as she works through it all. She trembles lightly, and I hate Grant Dalton and his family even more for it.
Wren squares her shoulders and meets my gaze again with the kind of strength that comes from making too many impossible choices. “I would be grateful for any help you can provide.”
I nod.
Judge clears her throat. Yes, yes, we need to do this in steps, but this one is going to land hard regardless. I wave my hand at him, letting him take the brunt of her ire. It’s his idea after all.
And this might send her running anyway.
“In order to keep you safe, we’re going to have to make you untouchable. And that means marrying the two of you before he comes looking.” Judge leans against the edge of my desk to keep from completely towering over her.
It’s not an order. It’s a suggestion, and the best option we’ve got.
But it’s also another gut punch to my system, because now that I’ve seen her, talked to her, watched her keep herself strong all on her own, I want to claim her as mine.