Saint

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Prologue

Sofia

I was scared. More than that. I was downright terrified. My sister, Luciana, was trying to be brave, but I saw the tremor in her hands when she thought no one was watching. Our little sister, Violeta, had been crying off and on since we’d left Colombia. I couldn’t blame her. I’d wanted to cry too. Living with our father had been a nightmare, but going off into the unknown? Even worse. I didn’t know anything about the bikers who were going to claim us. I might have held it together a little better if I’d thought my sisters would be close by, but I’d heard we were being split up.

Mr. VanHorne had helped our father negotiate with some biker clubs in the States. A way to ensure the safety of his drugs, and whatever else he was into, and we were the consolation prize. His perfect little whores who had learned the hard way to do as we’re told or face the consequences. I glanced at Violeta and Luciana, wondering what would happen to them when it was discovered they were both pregnant. If our father had known, he never would have let them go. He either would have wanted their boys to turn into monsters like him, or he’d have passed the girls around to his men. Neither fate was one I’d wish on anyone. Was it wrong I secretly hoped they would both miscarry? I didn’t blame the babies for what had happened, but I worried about the kind of lives they would have. If I could spare them any pain or suffering, then I would.

I’d always adored children, and they’d seemed to like me. My father had used it against me several times. The first time, I’d been so scared I’d wet my pants. That was the day I’d learned that my father wasn’t a man to be trifled with, or a man at all. I was certain he’d been possessed by El Diablo himself. No one could be that evil, not if they had a soul.

The jet touched down and my stomach flipped. This was it. I knew I would be the first to go, and I tried not to beg and plead to remain with my sisters. It wouldn’t do me any good. The deals for us had already been made, and now we were expected to suffer in silence. Mr. VanHorne motioned for me to stand as we came to a stop and the steps were lowered. I walked toward him and fought back the bile rising in my throat. He placed a hand on my shoulder and helped me down the steps to the ground below. A group of men in black leather vests covered in patches waited for us.

Torch, this is Sofia, Mr. VanHorne said, pushing me toward the silver-haired man.

Torch turned and motioned to a younger guy to step forward. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and had golden hair that gleamed in the sunlight -- and he looked utterly pissed off. I whimpered and urged my feet to move forward and not run in the opposite direction. When the man reached us, he practically sneered down at me and I knew that whatever I’d endured so far, the worst had probably yet to come.

Sofia, this is Saint. You belong to him now, Mr. VanHorne said. Be a good girl and do as he says.

Yes, sir, I said softly, my gaze meeting Saint’s before I flinched and looked away. He had the face of an angel, but the anger burning in his eyes made me wish I could just die right here and now.

You’ll ride with Saint on the back of his bike, Sofia, Torch said. Do you have any luggage?

Mr. VanHorne handed over a small bag I’d packed with just two changes of clothes. It was all my father had permitted me to bring. Torch eyed the bag, hefted it, then frowned.

What the fuck, Casper? Is there even anything in here? he asked.

I’ll provide a clothing allowance for her. Their father wanted them to pack light.

Torch shook his head and handed the bag to Saint. The blond man walked off and I followed, not knowing what else to do. He stuffed my duffle into a black leather bag on the side of his bike, then swung his leg over the seat. He stared at me expectantly and I realized I was supposed to get on too. I awkwardly climbed onto the bike, then didn’t know what do. He sighed and reached back, grabbing my hands and put them on his waist.

Hold on or you’ll fall off, he said.

I fisted the leather of his vest and hung on as the bike started forward. I tried to keep some space between us, but by the time we’d left the airstrip, I was plastered to his back for fear of tumbling off the motorcycle. I hid my face against his back, and tried not to notice that he smelled really good. It felt like we were riding forever, but it was probably less than twenty minutes. When we came to a stop, I looked around and saw rows of homes and a larger building in the distance. I also saw a fenced area that looked like it had a playground, which I found odd for a group of bikers. Unless they were like my father, then… I shivered, no, I wouldn’t think that.

We’re here. You can let go and get the fuck off, Saint said.

I scrambled to do as he said and landed on my ass for my trouble. He grunted and stared down at me before shutting off the motorcycle and getting off. The door to the house opened and a little girl flew down the steps.

Daddy! she screeched and threw herself at Saint, who caught her and smiled broadly.

He had a daughter? A daughter who seemed to adore him? I got up and brushed myself off, watching to see the darkness enter his eyes, but it never did. He looked younger, and more approachable with his daughter in his arms.

Is that the girl who’s going to live with us? the little girl asked.

Yes, Delia. This is Sofia, and she’s going to stay with us for a bit.

For a bit. Right. Because he didn’t plan to keep me. Just use me, then pass me along to someone else. I tried to swallow the knot in my throat and followed them into the house. Saint pointed to an open door down the hall.

That’s your room while you’re here. Don’t touch anything that isn’t yours, he said, then walked off with his daughter still clinging to him.

I stared at that open door and wondered what I’d find inside. When I got the courage to go look, it was a rather nondescript room. Tan walls, brown bedding, and even the rug covering the wood floor was a combination of browns and creams. It wasn’t a bad room, and at least it didn’t look like there weren’t chains on the bed. If he planned to tie me down, he must not want his daughter to see that sort of thing. That had to be a good sign, right?

I sat on the edge of the mattress and kicked off my shoes. I glanced at the pillows with longing and gave in to the temptation to lie down. I’d close my eyes, only for a little bit. I curled into a ball on my side and couldn’t hold the tears back another moment. I sobbed silently, not wanting anyone to see me in this moment of weakness. Crying had never solved anything, but I was so damn scared right now. I didn’t know what to expect of the man I’d been given to like some sort of prize or object. I only hoped that when he hurt me, I wouldn’t scream and scare the little girl. She’d looked so precious, and I never wanted anything to bad or ugly to touch her life.

No one deserved the fate I’d been handed.

Chapter One

Saint

I hated that Torch had asked me to house one of the girls from Colombia. I didn’t like having her around Delia, didn’t know what sort of influence she would be on my small daughter. I’d heard her crying after I’d pointed out her room, but I hardened my heart and refused to go check on her. I hadn’t asked for this, and I didn’t want her here. Out of all the men at the compound, why me? I had a kid to think about. Just because I didn’t have a woman living in my house, didn’t mean I was up for this shit. I hadn’t even slept with a club whore since my daughter had come to live with me.

It wasn’t that losing her mother was so painful. I’d cared about Rhianon, but we weren’t in love. Or at least I hadn’t been in love with her. We’d had fun, and that had apparently resulted in us having a kid that she hadn’t told me about. When she’d passed, her brother had contacted me. I’d dropped everything and gone up to the Hades Abyss compound to meet my daughter.

Delia didn’t remember her mom, even though I’d made sure to keep a picture of Rhianon in Delia’s room from the very beginning, and had a few others around the house. I didn’t know her mother well enough to share many stories, not appropriate ones anyway, but her Uncle Rocket told her enough that I hoped Delia felt like she knew her mother. If there was anything I could give my little girl, it would be her mom. Even though Rhianon had kept her from me, I liked to think she’d have eventually told me. Delia was the best thing that ever happened to me, even if the only action I’d seen in the last four years was from my own hand. I’d give up women any day to have my daughter here with me. She was the most precious thing to me.

I shifted on my bed, unable to sleep. We were about to start day three with the stranger living in our home, and while Delia was starting to edge a little closer to Sofia each day, I was doing my damnedest to keep the hell away. I was twenty-seven, not some high school kid, and yet every time I looked at Sofia I could feel my body respond. It was starting to piss me off. The club whores tried but never could get a rise out of my cock, but one look at the little Colombian princess and I was hard as a steel post. What the fuck was wrong with me?

A faint noise had me going completely still and straining my ears. Another rustle of sheets and then a whimper. Was Delia having a bad dream? She hadn’t had nightmares before, but I knew introducing someone new into our home could change her sleep patterns among other things. It had just been me and Delia since she was an infant, another reason I hadn’t wanted the girl here. Girl. Woman. The way my body reacted to her, I couldn’t really call her a girl, even though I’d been told she was only nineteen. Hell, I’d been part of this MC before that age so who was I to judge based off some numbers? Age wasn’t a big deal around here. Torch was thirty years older than his wife, but she adored him.

I heard the noise again, then a scream that had me leaping out of the bed and racing from my room. The second scream sent a chill down my spine as I opened Sofia’s door. She fought against her bedding, speaking rapidly in Spanish. When she switched to English, my stomach knotted and twisted because I had no doubt exactly what was happening.

No, Pedro. Stop! Please, don’t hurt me! she cried out, grappling with the sheets. No more! It hurts.

She bucked her hips like she was trying to throw someone off. When her legs jerked apart and her arms went over her head, immobile as if someone were pinning her down, I nearly threw up. Moving farther into the room, I eased onto the bed and tried to gently rouse her.

Sofia. I brushed my fingers over her cheek, unable to help but notice how soft her skin was. Sofia, it’s a nightmare. You need to wake up.

No. No more, she begged. Not again.

Not again? Jesus. How many times had the man brutalized her? I shook her, but she just