Saint
I must’ve had two hours of sleep. If even.
Getting into that cramped bed and lying next to Keira tested me more than I’m willing to admit.
While she sleeps, I get dressed and run a hand down my face, exhausted and fucking wound tight.
The door opens with a low moan, and I step out into the crisp morning air that fogs as I breathe out.
Behind thin clouds, the sun pushes up over the fields in a slow, steady blush of orange.
This is a view that never gets old. Peacefulness spreads for miles, and the openness gives me room to breathe.
Concealed by old metal sheeting, the rusty generator sits under shelter. I head into the woodshed, gather a few tools, then crouch beside it, checking the stubborn fucker and fiddling until I find the fault and fix it.
I leave it running and head back inside where it’s not much warmer.
Sticking to routine, I light the gas ring with a couple of turns and a click and warm my hands with a few rubs.
There are tins stacked in the cupboard above the counter, same as always. A stash of food that keeps for months.
I grab one, pull it open and empty the contents into the pan, the smell of baked beans and sausages filling the space as it warms.
Once it’s ready, I stand to eat, leaning against the counter with the pan in one hand and a fork in the other, watching the duvet rise and fall where she sleeps.
I could wake her with a kiss and a mug of coffee.
For a second, I almost do.
But she’s not permanent in my life. That’s how it needs to stay, no matter how easily that line blurs when she’s beside me.
I leave most of it in the pan for her, cover the top with foil, set it aside, and go back outside before I get any more pointless urges.
The shower’s nothing more than a pipe rigged up beside the woodshed, fed from a tank of rainwater. I strip off and stand under it, holding my breath as icy water trickles over my shoulders and down my spine.
A worn-down bar of soap sits where it always does. I work it into a lather, wash, and rinse, then reach into the plastic container for a towel to dry off.
The light breeze does half the job for me before I drag my shirt back on.
I hang the towel over the line in the shed, then reach for my smokes and head inside.
She’s awake now, hair ruffled from sleep and eyes all over my wet scuff.
“You can wash outside after breakfast,” I tell her.
I point to the pan of beans before grabbing my jacket and backing out to give her space, lighting a cigarette as I go.
The first drag fills my lungs and I cough, leaning against the side of the mobile to watch clouds pass over the sun.
From inside, I hear the scrape of metal and, without thinking it through, I peer inside, watching her eat from the pan.
It shouldn’t stir anything in me, but I track her movements anyway. The sight of her holds my attention for longer than the scenery ever could.
She sets the pan on the counter, slips on her boots, and comes outside to join me.
“Where’s the washing facilities?” she asks, teasing a lock of hair stuck in her lashes.
Oh, she’s gonna love this.
“Right this way.”
I lead her to the makeshift shower and flip the lever to release the water.
“There’s soap on the shelf, and if you’re lucky, I’ll even bring ya a clean towel.”
Keira studies the setup, gazes up at the sky, looks around at the trees, and tucks her hair behind her ears, taking a slow breath.
“Wow, you guys have all the mod cons.” She plasters on a fake smile. “Is there hot water?”
“There’s water,” I deadpan.
Moving away, I grab her a towel, shake it out once, and hang it within reach of the shower.
My fists clench, and I turn my back too fast, reaching for the first thing in the shed just to give my mind something to think about.
The second cold water splashes her skin, she yelps and swears. I huff a chuckle, something close to a smile pulling at the corner of my mouth before I kill it and take another drag instead.
Serves her right.
I inhale more smoke and keep my eyes off her, moving to the front of the mobile.
After a while, she rounds the tin and stops in front of me, dressed, hair bone dry and a glower directed right at me.
“That was freezing,” she grits.
“So I heard.”
She shoots me a look, all heat and bite, skin flushed from the icy water and fresh air, and I take it in before I can stop myself.
Sunlight catches in her eyes and makes them brighter, while her bare complexion has a scattering of tiny freckles.
Standing here, she looks—
I drop my cigarette and stamp it out, not giving the thought time to grow.
“We’re heading back to the yard.” I pop my jacket collar. “You can grab whatever you need from the cabin before ya return later.”
“Really?” She props her hands on her hips. “Can I bring a kettle…or a heating system?”
“I’ll see what I can do, princess,” I say, already turning before she answers.
I head for Bran, slide his saddle onto his back, and buckle the girth.
“How long do I have left?” She comes up beside me, throwing on the oversized coat she grabbed from inside. “Before this is over.”
“That depends on your da.”
“It’s land,” she says. “You’re acting like he stole a crown.”
“He stole access.”
Her frown pulls tight. “Access to what?”
“The river.” I check Bran’s girth and keep my voice even. “That strip is the only way from my yard to the water without crossing Harrington ground. Every late-night delivery has to bend around him because of it.”
“So this is about business?”
“It’s about power. Business is just what men like your da call it when they don’t want to say control.”
“So, you’ll let this run on while I suffer?”
My brows snap together. “Suffer?”
“Yeah.” She smooths her hands over Bran’s hind. “Cold water and tinned food.”
“How about no shower and no food?” I face her now. “Would that work for ya?”
She stares at me for a beat and then lowers her lashes. “I don’t think you’d be that mean to me.”
My spine tingles at that. “You wanna take that risk?”
“When this is over, I’m going to fly back to Paris.” She sweeps her hair over her shoulder. “I have friends out there. It’s better than Black Heath. And when I visit my family and see you in the village, I’ll cross the street so I don’t have to look at you.”
“There’s only one main road through the village. You’ll still look.” I gather the reins and climb into the saddle. “Give me your hand.”
Keira puts her foot in the stirrup, sets her hand in mine, and I haul her upward.
The movement is quick, controlled, but it brings her in close in a way nothing else does, her body lining up behind mine as she finds her balance.
“You’ll look too.” Her voice slips over my shoulder.
She gets herself comfortable and rests her hands on my hips with the lightest of touches.
Bran moves under the added weight. I give him the signal to walk on instead of correcting her, letting it slide when I shouldn’t.
Truth is, after this, I won’t let myself think about what it’s like having her here.
The rhythm of the horse edges her closer, his hooves hitting the dirt as the distance builds behind us and Tallon land stretches out ahead.
Her breasts press against my back with the motion, and I keep my focus forward, eyes on the hills, on the sprawling track, on anything that isn’t her body heat.
Eventually the yard comes into view, already busy with the day-to-day grind.
Shay appears from the side of the barn, eyes on us as Bran comes to a stop. I dismount and wait for Keira to slide down next.
He takes the reins while I loosen the girth, and Keira stands there, unsure where to go. I don’t miss Shay’s gaze cutting to her, taking in the fact she’s with me and not tied up in the tin.
“What’s the latest?” I ask.
“Riley must’ve delivered your message,” he says, like he’s reporting on nothing more than the weather. “Word landed like ya planned.”
“Good.” I pat Bran on the neck. “And Crowley?”
“He didn’t come. Crowley junior showed up instead,” he adds. “Sera handled him.”
I frown at that.
“How?”
“He’s always had a thing for her. She walked him around the barns and sent him away with nothing but a Tallon smile.”
Keira lets out a low grunt and looks skyward. Jesus, I should kiss the mocking expression off her pretty face and really give her eyes something to roll at.
“You got a problem?” I ask.
“Can I go to your place and have a proper shower while you two catch up?”
“Stay where ya are. Don’t move unless I say so.”
While she sighs, Shay continues. “Harrington knows we’ve had his daughter this whole time. Anything we do from here gets watched by the Crowleys.”
I huff a quick breath, something close to a laugh but without the humor in it.
“They’ve been here twice and left with nothing,” I say. “Next time, they’ll need a different reason and a warrant.”
“Junior wants a word with ya,” Shay goes on. “He said it’s not like you to disappear.”
“He can go fuck himself.”
I drag a hand through my hair and glance around the yard, thinking about our next move, the pressure points, where the plan tightens and where it breaks.
“I’ll stay in the tin for the next few days,” I say. “Out of the way. You can reach me on the radio as usual.”
Shay nods.
Boots scuff behind us, and Dane comes into view first, then Rafe, both of them clocking Keira.
Rafe shoves his hands into his jeans’ pockets. His gaze lands on her and stays there.
“What the fuck is she doing here?” he says. “Thought Ma wanted her gone?”
I dig out my smokes and light one.
“You don’t need to understand it,” I say, exhaling a lungful of smoke.
Rafe glares at me for a beat, and I can tell he’s deciding whether to push or leave it.
He exhales through his nose, not happy about my one-liner, but smart enough not to take it further.
Dane’s eyes flick between us, taking it all in, then he shakes his head and sighs.
“After last night, her old man will think better of sending his men to our yard,” he mutters. “Those fuckers are lucky to be alive.”
“He won’t sit still either.” Shay repositions his cap. “He’s not a man who likes to lose.”
Keira folds her arms across her chest and widens her stance.
“We keep everything tight,” I tell them. “No loose ends, no stupid moves. If the Crowleys want to sniff around, let them. They won’t get anything we don’t give.”
“And her old man?” Rafe asks.
“We don’t go near him,” I say, looking past them out across the yard. “He’ll be waiting for us to react.”
Rafe scratches his jaw as he thinks. “So what? We just sit on it? Pretend his men weren’t here shooting shit up. Fuck sakes, Saint, they could’ve hit Sera.”
“That’s what we pay Shay for.” I nod to my left, and Shay nods back. “So rather than be obvious about it, let’s make Harrington’s friends regret being in his pocket.”
“What d’ya mean?” Rafe lights a cigarette. “You talkin’ about the bookies?”
“There’s money of his running through Black Heath that doesn’t touch him directly,” I go on, already lining it up in my head, the flow of it, the men who think they’re insulated because they play golf with him.
“Accounts that build, bets that get stretched, extra credit we extend because we know what it gives us.”
Dane rubs his hands together. “You wanna pull it all?”
“Bit by bit,” I say. “Strangle them enough to notice, so they feel the pressure.”
Rafe lets out a deep chuckle. “Fucking genius, Saint.”
I look between them, making sure they’re following the whole plan.
“We don’t give them any warning or special favors. Whatever payment extensions they had are up. Every man tied to Harrington who’s been playing like they’re untouchable wakes up owing a debt deeper than their pockets.”
“And they’ll go straight to him,” Shay says, already there.
“They’ll blame him,” I correct. “Because he’s the reason they’re drowning.”
Dane whistles and pulls out his phone, typing out a message. “We’ll kick ‘em where it really hurts.”
At the edge of the yard, Ma’s Land Rover comes into view as it speeds in and parks close by.
Sera climbs out of the passenger seat first, and Ma takes her time, lighting a cigarette and checking her salty black hair in the sun visor mirror.
“What have I missed?” Sera asks, strolling past Keira, not giving her a second glance. “Looks like you’re holding a meeting for dummies.”
“You only showing up for work now?” Dane makes a face at her. “What time do ya call this?”
Ma exits the Land Rover and joins us, her attention on me the whole time.
“What’s the plan now?” she asks.
“We put pressure on the men around him,” I say. “This only has one outcome, and Harrington will fucking crumble when his allies start bitchin’ at him.”
Her eyes narrow, considering it, measuring the plan against whatever idea she’d thought of.
“And Crowley’s team?” She pulls her wax jacket collar up higher and glances at Keira. “They aren’t stupid.”
“They’ve done what they can without stepping over the line,” I tell her. “They won’t find anything here.”
“Ya think?” Ma’s eyebrows drift skyward. “They just have to cruise into this yard and little miss fucking trouble here will wave them down, telling all sorts of stories that lead to prison time.”
She takes a drag and exhales as she speaks, “You’re getting sloppy, son.”
Anger knots in my stomach, and my jaw clenches. “Do you wanna babysit the girl, Ma? Because I’m the one doin’ what it takes.”
“I don’t want a Harrington anywhere near me or my home.”
“So you’ve said,” I grit. “Your fucking record is scratched.”
Ma narrows her eyes at me for a beat as she inhales a lungful of smoke.
“And that’s why we call ya Saint. The boy who never got caught with dirt on his hands. But even saints trip up. Make sure that woman isn’t the reason for it. I won’t have history repeating itself.”
She turns before it becomes a bigger argument, heading back to the Land Rover while I stand there wondering what she’s talking about.
Dane and Rafe back away, while Shay tips his cap and wanders into the barn.
Sera comes up from behind me, steps in close, and shoves a plastic bag into my chest.
“That’s for your pet Harrington,” she says under her breath.
I take it without looking inside, noting the weight and feel of clean clothes, aware of the word she used and choosing not to react to it.
“Right.” My fingers fist around the fabric inside. “You did well this morning getting rid of Junior.”
Sera’s mouth twitches as if she’s biting her tongue, then she walks off, already done with the exchange.
I angle the bag toward Keira and watch how the wind plays with her long, loose hair.
“My sister must like ya,” I say, my gaze settling on her. “That’s two Tallons now. Only three more to go.”
She looks up at me with a slight smile pulling at her mouth, and I have to look away before I smile back, because there’s another night ahead of us in that tin mobile, miles from anyone, with open land on every side and only one bed inside.