Chapter 38 Saint #2
I shake my head at his answer. Rex sitting on his ass is unheard of. He knows what’s at stake, so I decide to give him some faith.
Taking a seat on the sofa, we both stare up at the screens, watching the timer tick down from ten seconds. When the clock hits three seconds, the entire bay plunges into darkness, the room echoing as the lights shutter off.
Regina’s voice comes through the speakers. “For fuck’s sake, really?”
But it’s Indie’s that has my smile faltering.
She doesn’t say a word, doesn’t even move.
She just fucking laughs.
“That was slightly unnerving,” Rex says, grimacing when he looks at me.
A wicked feeling erupts inside me, a surge coursing through my veins, knowing I’m likely going to witness if Indie will make me eat my fucking words.
They move. The rooms are barely lit and the body camera with night vision activates, giving them just enough light to make out faint objects.
Despite what I told her before, she does move with grace. She weaves in and out of rooms, her gun constantly raised like it’s second nature.
Someone creeps up behind Regina, and Indie swipes them from the ankle, knocking them out with the butt of her gun.
Regina returns the favour by shooting whoever entered the room from the side.
“I’m impressed,” Indie says, giving Regina a high five. I remember Indie telling me Regina doesn’t get involved in the killing side. Much like Dawson, he would if needed.
Twenty minutes go by, and Indie’s team are in the lead; both her and Regina have been paired together.
Might have also purposely requested that.
She’s up against professionals, but she’s listening and obeying commands through their comms, which is one of the main things I need her to do.
Because Christ knows it’ll be me she has fucking ears painted on for.
There’s one pair left on the other team, two on Indie’s. She’s almost out of rubber bullets, only a couple left in the chamber.
She sneaks into a room, then immediately backs against the wall, her hand whipping to keep Regina back. The room fills with the opposite team’s comms.
“Have you seen the boss’s girl yet?”
“No, kinda don’t want to. She broke Tyler’s nose earlier. Mine is finally straight after ten years.”
A deep chuckle comes from me, and one of the men walks into the other room to clear it. Indie pushes off the wall; she’s like a wraith as she moves through it and sticks to the shadows.
One of my guys with almost five years of tactical experience is walking up the stairs, not even aware what she’s doing. She’s light on her feet, matching his footsteps.
She creeps up the stairs behind him, whilst fake bullets crack in the background, and my eyes flick over to the other screen, seeing their dark silhouettes at the top of the stairs.
Indie leans behind him, whispering in his ear, “Gotcha,” and everything happens in a blur.
He whips around to shoot her, but she’s faster.
She ducks, blocks his gun with a shove of her forearm, her other hand reaching for his ankle, tugging him off his feet before putting a fake bullet in his helmet, leaving a chalky mark to confirm he’s been hit.
I wipe the smirk away with the back of my hand, then reach for a cigarette, sparking it up.
Defeat.
That’s what it feels like I’m inhaling into my lungs; it’s just as potent.
I glance over at Rex, who’s already grinning like a fucking idiot at me. Now I know the two of them have definitely been conniving about this behind my back.
“What’s your verdict, then?” he asks, and I blow smoke towards the ceiling.
I shake my head, not willing to voice her victory out loud. He urges me on. “Come on, that was impressive, you can’t lie, Saint.”
It was better than impressive, because right now, I want to run down there and find her.
I want to pin her to the wall and fuck her senseless.
My darling little monster is stirring my beast awake again.
I flex my hips in the seat and adjust my belt.
“You have anything to do with that?” I ask, taking another drag into my blackened lungs.
That breathless voice fills into the room instead. “Rex has actually been giving me tips with my aim.”
I crane my neck over the back of the sofa to see her standing at the threshold, arms folded, looking just as smug as she is beautiful.
“I said you could tell him when I wasn’t in the fucking room!” Rex exclaims, jumping from his seat on the sofa to round it.
He throws his hands up defensively, walking backwards towards the exit, keeping his cautious gaze on me.
“Sometimes, we just need a little push.” He winks at me, before slipping out the room.
I fan my arm behind the couch, beckoning Indie with my fingers. “You get thirty seconds to gloat.”
She’s over to me like a whippet, plopping herself in the space Rex occupied before he skittered out of the room.
She leans her elbow on the back of the couch, head resting in her palm as she purrs through her words with her best English accent. “Have I charmed you yet, boss?”
Fuck me.
My head falls back against the sofa, the cigarette pressed between my lips. “Maybe.”
She plucks it from my mouth, discarding it somewhere on the floor. She’s in my lap before I can even track where it went, and my laugh rumbles off the walls.
Soft hands cup either side of my face, and anyone looking us might think it’s a sweet gesture passing between lovers, but she’s fucking squeezing my jaw.
It only makes me laugh harder.
“You say that word one more fucking time, Saint, I’m going to tattoo it onto your forehead.”
After applying a bit more pressure for good measure, her hands drop in defeat, and I catch the glimpse of a plea in her eyes, breaking through the front she just had.
She goes to stand up, but I band my arms around her waist. “Don’t run off in a mood just yet, darling.”
She shifts on her ass to face me, crossing her arms across her chest, the annoyance radiating heat from her.
“What the fuck else do I need to do? You want me to kill someone? Bring me someone from the Omnia, and I’ll show you how serious I am, Saint.” Her chest rises and falls, her brows dipped as her gaze searches my face for the answer.
“You’ll get a chance for that. Certainly got some fucking experience of it,” I say through a sigh, and it’s deep, full of frustration, and a lot of fucking suffering.
“If I let you go”—I clap my hand over her mouth as it opens—“you listen to every fucking word I say. You don’t question it. And you sure as fuck don’t leave my side. I’m deadly serious, Indie, or else you’ll see my monster.”
And the devil is the master of them all.
I can feel the corner of her lips tilt upwards against my palm. The scowl she has loosens, so I release my hold on her. “Now why would I run from you after all this time? I won’t leave your side, promise, Sainty.”
A gruff rumble comes from me, despite the pang in my chest.
The memories of our early twenties flash behind my eyes.
She baulks when she realises what she called me, and so I bring her hand to my mouth, kissing her knuckles with reassurance.
“The only time you run from me is when I’m chasing you.”