Bane (Sinners of Saint #4)(19)

“What would it take for you to have coffee with me?” He breathed hard, picking up where we’d left off. Last time, I told him he’d need to save my life.

I guess he just had.

“For you to tell me why you want to do this.”

“I need to fix you,” he said, his greens on my blues.

To. Fix. You.



Shadow stirred in my arms, trying to sniff Bane from a distance. I was surprised he didn’t try to bite his head off like he normally would. He knew how weird I’d felt about men.

“I don’t mean to sound rude, but who the hell are you to fix me, and who said I’m in need of fixing?” I tilted my chin down, aware of the fact I hadn’t exchanged so many words with another man for years. I was on the verge of shoving him away. How dare he? But I was also on the verge of smashing my body against his, collapsing into a hug. How good was he? No one had ever tried to fix me. Even Darren and Pam merely wanted to get rid of me. Of course, I did neither. The Untouchable never touched anyone.

Bane took a step forward. I didn’t take a step back.

“I heard about your story. I heard about what Emery, Nolan, and Henry did to you. And let’s just say I have someone close to me who experienced something similar, so shit hit pretty close to home.” He pointed to the space where the Camaro was no longer parked. I thought about what I knew about him. About his bad reputation. But then I also remembered that he’d been the one to shut down the Defy game in All Saints High. That all he’d ever been to me was kind and helpful.

“I don’t think you understand, Snowflake. You don’t have any say in this shit. I’m going to help you whether you want my help or not. And I’m willing to punch every face in Todos Santos if it makes you feel safer, my own included. I don’t want to fuck you, Jesse.” He breathed hard, and in my mind, he was cupping my cheeks with his big, callused palms, and I didn’t even flinch.

In my mind, his cinnamon breath skimmed over my face warmly.

In my mind, we didn’t have all that dead space between us, and our voices didn’t echo against the nothingness of the empty night, because I wasn’t so broken and scared. “I want to fucking save you.”

“But—” I started.

He cut me off. “They called you a whore. What they did to you is inexcusable. You’re going to be saved, hear me? You’re going to be saved, because the other girl couldn’t be saved.”

I didn’t question it.

I didn’t doubt it.

I just accepted it, the way you do the sky above your head, knowing he was a stronger force than my resistance ever would be.

Bane had helped me. He’d protected me.

And, sadly, it was more than anyone else had done in my life.

All he wanted was coffee. Somewhere public. Once. I could survive this. I could.

I thought about the wilting Mrs. Belfort, and how loneliness drove me running from my memories and nightmares in the middle of the night, then nodded. He motioned for me to get into his truck, and I shook my head, lowering Shadow to the ground. We were going to walk. Bane threw his cell phone into my hands.

“Five, three, three, seven. Have 911 on speed dial. I’ll drive slowly. Keep the passenger door open just in case. But you’re not walking home with your feet looking like that.” He motioned down, and I followed his gaze, finding my ankles and Keds beaten almost to death, the little pocketknife nearly falling out of my blood-soaked sock. I nodded slowly, tucking it back in. I then dialed 911 and kept my thumb hovering on the green button, and got into his truck.

It was the shock that made me do it.

New Jesse never got into anyone’s vehicle.

“Just one question, Bane,” I said after giving him directions to my house. “What were you doing here tonight? It’s a gated community.”

He cut his engine, sank back into his seat, and rolled his head to look at me. “I have a hookup in El Dorado every Thursday. I have the electronic key.” He flashed the small black device between his fingers.

I swallowed hard as I tumbled out of the passenger’s seat with Shadow in front of my house.

My ankle dragged, leaving a bloodstain on his old leather seat.

And I thought it to be ironic.

How he was the most powerful man I knew, and yet, I was the one to mark him before he marked me.





THE MINUTE DARREN TEXTED ME that Jesse went to the track for a jog, I was out of bed and in my truck, speeding in its direction.

Fine. I’ll rephrase: I was out of Samantha’s bed—an El Dorado local lay and a lawyer who gave me legal advice—and heading toward the track.

It was three thirty in the fucking morning. If Snowflake had a death wish, she worked hard on fulfilling it. I’d arrived just in time. In a classic, deus ex machina, more-luck-than-brains scenario, there were two douchebags, one jaded girl, and Jesse and her dog in the middle of the shitshow.

She’d been so disoriented and horrified that she’d accepted the excuse for my sudden arrival and hadn’t even doubted me. She’d tripped on her ass bolting out of my truck when I dropped her off, and I’d pretended not to notice because I didn’t want to embarrass her. It was a lie I didn’t usually offer, but she had special circumstances.

Thin trails of her blood smeared on my passenger seat reminded me just how broken she was, and how careful I needed to be with that one.