Page 78 of Savage Saint

Instead, it sends a little thrill through me.

Five forty-nine.

“Shit!” I drop my towel, changing quickly before common sense can stage an intervention, pulling the shorts up my legs and adjusting the waistband until everything sits exactly where it should. The ruching does what it’s designed to do, and when I turn sideways in the mirror, I immediately understand why I bought them.

My butt looks fantastic. The sports bra matches perfectly.

Supportive? Yes.

Modest? Absolutely not.

“I’m taking a shirt just in case.” In the closet, I grab a crossbody bag and add a plain grey shirt, a small toiletries bag, and my wallet. My hair goes up in a messy bun, the mass of curls falling just right, the universe blessing me with no frizz, and I’m slipping into a pair of sneakers by the door when there’s a knock.

I make him wait an extra minute or two just because.

While he stands there, I add some lip gloss, a spritz of perfume, and look at my butt one more time. Ready as I’ll ever be.

Taking one last breath, I curl my fingers around the doorknob…

18

SAINT

The second the door opens, I understand three things:

Genesis Romero is motherfucking sinful.

This self-defense class is about to become a problem.

The last seven days have been a lesson in patience, and I’m going to fail.

The morning after church, I flew with Mami and Klara to Miami. I got them settled with the De Leons, made sure they understood they weren’t stepping foot on the island until it was safe, then caught the first flight back on the same day.

They were worried but didn’t fight it. Klara did talk to me while Mami walked to the bathroom a few feet from us and in my line of sight.

“Something about Janelle is off, Santo. She’s been asking me a lot of club questions lately.” At first, she’d been confused after I told them about Volkov, but at the mention of pink hair, the pinched expression gave her away. I didn’t push—not with Klara. She’s someone who needs to think things through before she opens up. “From your daily schedule to dating preferences, as if I’d keep track of that. You’re a grown man; I’m not your keeper. And when she didn’t get what she wanted, she started asking about me. My activities, what gym I go to, and favorite coffee place near campus. It got weird, but I kept it civil. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have entertained her.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.” I kept my voice low, watching the guilt settle across her face. Klara’s mouth tightened, but she didn’t look away. She knows better.

We were raised to know harmless questions aren’t always innocent.

Who you are with. Where you go. What time you leave.

Red fucking flags.

“You should’ve told me the moment something felt off, Klara. This family has no secrets.”

“I know.” Her eyes, a few shades darker than mine, looked toward the bathroom, then back to me. “I don’t trust her, brother. She’s desperate for money and a title.”

“Agreed.”

I filed that conversation away, but it was never far from my mind. Not while we made a short run to the docks, moving a shipment of ammunition to Louisiana that Jameson was waiting on. Not while Trojan traced a property back to a company connected to Emilio Montalvo, and I put Flow and Onyx on watch duty.

They followed him when he came to town midweek, spent a few hours with Tatiana, then headed straight back to the capital, not stepping a single foot inside the property. It was a dead end.

I’ll give Janelle enough rope to hang herself.

The only break I allowed myself was the times I carved out for Genesis. She’s become my reprieve.