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“Wow.” Tino’s fingers trail along my wrist and then back up, slowly, sending a delicious tremor down my spine. “That’s pretty cool.”
“Not if they all killed one another after,” I say. “It’s really sad.”
I stare out at the field and watch the game, though I’m not really interested in the result. I’m not a big sports fan and don’t really understand the rules of baseball. Still, it’s nice to soak up the atmosphere and see everyone enjoying themselves. Most people are dressed in light, summer clothing, despite it being fall, or sports gear, and there are games of more seasonally appropriate things like apple bobbing off to one side.
I’m sitting with my legs tucked to one side of me, and I pull at the short skirt of my sundress, trying not to expose too much thigh. I’ve kicked off my white sneakers and socks, preferring to have the soft, green grass underfoot instead.
I close my eyes and let my thoughts drift.
Something in the air changes, and I open my eyes, almost expecting to discover the sun has darted behind a heavy thundercloud. A murmur, a ripple of something like excitement, surfs the crowd like a wave. The chatter approaches us, rumbling like a storm, and I turn my head, frowning.
Walking right in front of the field where the game is being played are three tall, dark-haired figures.
I watch them and recognize two of them. Mattheo and Louis, who everyone refers to as the Vipers. I don’t recognize the guy with them, though. Hell, this guy is huge. He’s taller than the twins—and even taller than Kirill. It’s not only his height that makes him big, but the way he’s bulked with muscle, filling out the long dark coat he really doesn’t need in this weather. He even has a scarf wrapped around his thick throat.
“Holy shit,” Camile exclaims.
Tino blows out a low breath. “He’s back.”
“Who? Who is he?” I ask, confused.
The three men have turned and are headed up the hill, right toward us, although they aren’t looking our way.
“Insane Zane,” Camile whispers.
I snort loudly and regret it when a few heads turn my way. “Camile, that’s not very politically correct, or kind toward mental health issues,” I admonish.
“That’s his fucking nickname,” Tino mutters, “and it’s well deserved because he’s one unhinged dude.”
My God, if one of my men thinks this Zane character is unhinged, he must be bad. I look at the new arrival and, as I do, his head swivels my way.
He’s wearing sunglasses, so I can’t see his eyes, but I feel his gaze on me. It’s branding me everywhere it touches with a freezer-burn of fear.
Shit. I don’t like the feeling of him looking at me at all.
His gaze leaves me, his head turning to the right when someone yells to him, calling his name, and I heave a huge sigh of relief.
“Jesus, he’s creepy,” I say to Camile, my voice low.
“He’s dangerous,” she says. “I’d avoid him, and all of them.”
“The way you do?” I ask, disliking the way she sometimes tells me how to live my life while doing the exact opposite herself.
“Trust me, Mackenzie, I do avoid them as much as I can. I know what you saw in the hall, but it’s not what you think.”
“What was it, then?”
She sighs. “They want a new victim, and they were trying me on for size, but Mattheo is known for having expensive tastes, so I’m clearly not what he wanted.”
“What do you mean, he has expensive tastes?” I ask, wondering what that’s got to do with Camile.
“He likes fine wine, and dining, and fucking classical music—shit like that. That’s why everyone calls him Saint.”
I frown, not understanding. “What’s Saint got to do with anything?”
“Saint Laurant?” She shrugs. “It’s spelled differently, but it’s basically cause that’s his surname and he wouldn’t be seen dead in anything other than designer clothes.” She gives a cold laugh. “I’m too common for him. I’m definitely not the kind of woman he’d want on his arm at the opera.”
“You’re not common, Camile,” I say.
