For Saints and Outlaws (The Trauma Bonded #3)

Prologue

VALENTINA

I wiggle against the firm leather of the seat beneath me as the trees outside the window pass in a blur. My father huffs, a sign he’s growing impatient, and I freeze, unclenching my fists wrapped in the delicate pink dress he demanded I wear.

It’s constricting and itchy and way too childish for me. Pink isn’t even my color. But I say none of this—I refuse to argue with my father, even if I think he’s wrong.

“Relax your face. You don’t want it to get stuck looking so sour, Valentina. It’s not beautiful.”

I do as he commands, exhaling through my nose in an effort to loosen the ugly lines riddling my face.

I turn to my father, the sun shining through the window giving his enormous frame a sort of glow.

I admire his perfectly straight and styled hair—so similar to my younger brother’s and so opposite to my constantly unruly red curls.

He runs a hand through it, his knuckles covered in dark markings I used to trace with my finger as a little girl when he would let me sit in his lap.

It’s been years since he’s so much as hugged me, but I still remember how firm yet soft his skin felt.

“Are you ready to meet some people, Valentina?”

I chew on my lip and then look out the windshield. “Yes, Father. I’m excited to finally help with the business.”

I’m fifteen—my birthday was only two days ago—and it’s the first time my father’s allowed me to come to work with him in any real capacity. I’m more than excited, but expressing that has never done me any favors.

Being too excited, too eager, isn’t becoming of a woman of my position.

All I’ve ever wanted was to help my father run the business that’ll someday be my birthright.

I don’t care about the money, although I love pretty shoes and expensive jewelry when I can get it.

I do care about being a part of the family business.

I care about how important it is to my father, to his father before him.

I care about the legacy I’m set to take over and how important that is.

He huffs again, and I peek a glance at him from the corner of my eye. A bead of sweat glistens near his perfect hairline, and I stare at it in wonder. My father doesn’t get nervous, but something clearly has his teeth on edge.

Does he think I’ll mess up?

Wanting to ease his fears, I ask, “Everything okay, Father?” He stiffens, his knuckles going white on the steering wheel.

“You know the importance of the family business.” It’s not a question.

“Of course. It’s everything you and grandfather have worked for. It’s more than a business; it’s a legacy. One Mateo and I will someday take over.”

His head snaps in my direction, a flash of something I don’t recognize filling his face before he turns away. “Families are full of people, all with different roles to play.”

“Like when I help take care of Mateo while you and Mother work,” I offer, eager to comfort him.

He nods slowly. “A man’s job is to provide for his family, to take care of them and lead.”

“Just like you do.”

“Yes. And a woman’s job—”

I smile, shifting in my seat. “Is to support her husband, like Mother does with you.”

“An unmarried woman, though, must help where she can and, above all, serve those in her family who are providing.”

My smile drops slightly. I don’t like where this is going.

“You’ll someday help Mateo run the family legacy by serving him and those important to the business in any way they need.

Because that’s what makes you valuable—what makes you perfect for this job.

No one can serve the family, can protect the legacy my father, and I, and someday Mateo, are building like you, Valentina.

You’ll know what makes the business run, what makes it thrive—who makes it thrive and what makes them happy. ”

I wait for more explanation, because nothing he’s saying makes sense.

I’m the oldest, the rightful heir to the family legacy—if not as much or more than my younger brother, Mateo.

He doesn’t care about learning how to run the casino; I’ve taken every math class I can, already grades above those my age, just because I want to be valuable to the family.

I’m on the debate team, and the mathletes, get straight As in every class, and when I’m not taking care of Mateo during my free time, I’m studying online business material.

I was made to take over, not take care of my little brother while he does it.

When my father doesn’t continue, and the casino emerges in the distance, I lick my lips. “Father, I don’t understand.”

He growls, irritation rolling off him in waves, and I cringe. I don’t like disappointing him.

“We all have an important role to play—yours is no less valuable than Mateo’s.”

“Because we’ll be partners.” It’s not what I want—I’d rather prove I can run the business on my own—but I also don’t want to take Mateo’s birthright away from him.

“Because your brother will need someone he can trust completely to do what needs done in order to make things run smoothly and successfully.”

“But I thought—”

The car comes to halt, the tires squeaking. “You were allowed to think whatever you wanted because you were a child. But you’re not a child anymore, Valentina. You’re a young woman—a Reyes—and it’s time you learn your place in this family.”

Tears instantly form along my lash line, and I blink furiously to keep their descent at bay.

“Do not cry,” he snaps, and I close my eyes quickly to hide the evidence. He’s so much harsher than he’s ever been, and something about it terrifies me.

“I want to help our family,” I choke out.

“And help you will. By serving those who need you.”

I nod, defeat filling every cell in my body. Maybe I’m overreacting. Father always says that’s something I could make an Olympic sport. I’m sure once I prove I’m right for the job, I’ll get what I was born to inherit.

Opening my eyes, I inhale and plaster on a small smile. I can do this.

“I’m not saying any of this to hurt you—you are now and always will be my princess—but the world is a cruel place, and showing weakness will do nothing but make you a target. Reyes men, and women, have no weakness.”

“Yes, Father. I understand.” I reach for the handle, ready to get as far away from this conversation as I can.

Before I can open the door, a valet comes forward, opening it for me before extending his hand.

He’s a younger man, barely a few years older than me, his skin so pale, the freckles on his cheeks look like they were drawn on with a Sharpie.

His blond hair flops to the side in a cute but very boyish look.

He smiles at me, a genuine expression, and small butterflies erupt in my stomach.

I slide my hand into his as I stand, and he squeezes softly. I gasp at the intensity of it all. I crave this feeling—being wanted—and even though he’s far too old, far too beneath my station, I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to kiss him. I bet it would be both thrilling and dangerous.

Is that wrong?

“Valentina,” my father barks, and I rip my hand from the valet’s, turning to face him. My cheeks heat as embarrassment blossoms through my chest, quickly followed by shame as I’m met with a glare that could kill. “Let’s go. Now.”

I nod, starting toward the entrance without a backward glance. As my father passes the valet, I hear him whisper, “If you even look at her again, I’ll have you fired and blacklisted at every place from here to Las Vegas. Do you hear me, boy?”

I don’t hear the valet’s reply, but I don’t have to. You never disagree with Mario Reyes.

We near my father’s office, and I notice voices filtering out, a variety of deep laughter and gruff words.

“Valentina.” My father’s hand wraps around my upper arm, halting my confident strides.

His touch sends instant fear coursing through me, and I turn, wide eyes flicking up to his hard ones.

“You will serve these men today; they are extremely important to our business, and I’ve told them you were coming. They’re excited to meet you.”

I nod, steeling myself for whatever comes next.

He lowers his voice a fraction, and I strain to hear him over the machines and voices filling the smoky casino. “No matter what it is, you will serve them. Fear is a weakness—”

“And Reyeses don’t have weakness,” I finish, my voice firm even as my heart gallops in my throat.

His fingers loosen, a final nod passing between us before he steps ahead of me and into the room of waiting men.

This moment feels monumental, and I only allow myself a few spare seconds to compose myself.

I am Valentina, and today is the day I become a Reyes.

It’ll also be the first time I attempt to kill myself.