Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 72079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Bending, I grab the nylon bag in one hand and Sin’s hand in the other.
I start yanking her out of the office. “Come on, Sin. We need to get out of here.”
CHAPTER 16
Sin
“You holding up?” Saint asks for the hundredth time since we flew out of London and landed in Paris this morning. He turns off the ignition of the rental car.
It was too late last night after we fled the nightclub to catch a flight, so we’d holed up in a hotel. I must have scrubbed myself down in the shower for over an hour, the memory of Brandis’ brains and blood splattering on my arm on repeat.
After, Saint tried to get me to eat something, but that was a bust. I’d felt like I would hurl if I had.
He held me all night in the bed, and neither of us slept a wink. Neal murdering Brandis had shaken us because we value human life. We may steal from people and hurt them in the process, but we would never take someone’s life. It’s not what we do. On top of that, neither of us wants to go to prison for murder.
When we jetted out of the nightclub, we have no clue which way Neal went. Didn’t care, either, besides the fact we didn’t want him to get caught as he’d take us down with him. Saint had called William to tell him the details of what happened. The conversation was short and terse. William had not been happy in the slightest, and I can’t even imagine what Mercier is going to do to us for fucking this up so bad.
“Sin?”
I blink, turning my head slowly to look at Saint. We’re in Pantin, one of the northeast suburbs of Paris. We’re supposed to meet William at a warehouse on Rue Florian, and I’m incredibly concerned about the meeting place. It’s not Margeaux where we normally gather, and this is not boding well for us.
I don’t answer him. Instead, I exit the vehicle. He does the same, rounding the front and meeting me on the broken, weed-choked sidewalk. I pivot, walking north toward the warehouse.
“Are you okay?” Saint asks, grabbing my hand to prevent my escape and forcing me to face him.
“No, I’m not okay,” I whisper harshly. Deserted streets and abandoned buildings prove this isn’t the romanticized version of Paris. “I watched a man get murdered in cold blood less than twenty-four hours ago, and I feel like we’re getting ready to pay the price for it.”
What I want is for Saint to tell me I’m being irrational and that everything will be okay, but his gaze drifts past me. The troubled expression on his face says everything I need to know.
“Maybe you should leave,” he says, focusing on me.
And there it is… my worst fears confirmed. He’s not sure what we’re walking into either.
“We’ll both leave.” My voice is shrill and desperate as I move into him. My hands go to his chest, and I look up with pleading eyes. “Let’s go right now. South America. We can disappear.”
“I can’t,” he murmurs with a slight shake of his head. “I have to see this through for Jameson. It’s my job, and I want to do something worthwhile, Sin.”
My gaze drops, but I can’t do anything but nod in agreement. It’s why I love him.
Saint’s fingers come under my chin, forcing my eyes up to his. “Listen… you and I didn’t do anything wrong. We executed the plan perfectly. Neal is the one who fucked things up. He’s the one who has to answer to William, not us.”
“And yet, I can’t help but think we’re all liabilities now,” I murmur.
He doesn’t argue because he knows I’m right to be worried about this.
“Get in the car,” he says, pulling the keys from his pocket and thrusting them into my hand. “Get as far away from here as you can. Take your dad. Find a way to let me know where you are. Maybe once this is all over—”
“No,” I say fiercely, going to my tiptoes to get right in his face. “I’m not leaving you. We’re in this together to the end.”
And yes… that choice feels right. While every instinct in me says run, I’m not leaving Saint behind to face this on his own. I’m going to show him that he can trust me in every sense and nuance of the word.
His eyes warm as his lips touch mine. “Okay,” he whispers. “Let’s go do this.”
Saint moves to the rear of the vehicle, pops the boot, and grabs the duffel out. We had transferred the money to a larger bag last night at the hotel, then checked it on the plane. There’s no good way to transport that much cash, and all we could do was hope that bag came out intact and full when we landed.