Page 28

CHAPTER TWELVE

SAINT

I felt it, the wrongness in the air. It was as if the atmosphere had turned thick and heavy from a miasma of darkness settling over us like a blanket in summer that was too hot and suffocating.

Jacob had gotten a phone call a few minutes before. He’d looked at the display and snatched his cell up before biting off a curt, “Be right back,” then gone out into the yard to talk.

The way he paced up and down the side of the pool indicated a few things.

First, he was angry but trying to keep it locked down, probably for my benefit.

Second, Jacob always spoke in front of me.

He never hid anything and often told me to go into his phone to get a number or to start a call for him if he was driving or in the middle of something.

Which led me to believe he was worried about me hearing his conversation, which also meant he was trying to protect me.

Something had obviously happened, and he was trying to get ahead of it before he told me. I may have only been with Jacob for a short time, but I knew him inside out.

It wasn’t difficult to deduce that the stalker had made a move, and Jacob was not happy at all .

“Your man, he seems upset,” Catalina, my housekeeper and second mother, pointed out.

Absentmindedly, I watched her spray the countertop with cleaner before wiping it down.

She pushed back the lock of dark grey hair that had fallen out of her bun and began to scrub at an invisible spot.

“He never takes calls in the yard.” My gaze turned back to fixate on Jacob. “We don’t hide things from each other.”

“Men and women need some secrets, Mi Santa . It’s not good to know everything. Mujeres need some mystery in their men, or where is the romance, huh?”

I couldn’t stop the knowing smile that curved my lips because one thing Jacob and I had an abundance of was romance.

Not even a weirdo-stalker vibe could kill that.

I’d been romanced to shit over the last couple of weeks, and not in a cheesy pick-up line kind of way, but in a lingering look, whispered words way that made my skin tingle and my blood pump hard through my veins.

I glanced at her bustling around my kitchen in her beige slacks and pretty shirt with ruffles on the sleeves. “Can I do anything to help?”

“Make coffee,” she threw over her shoulder at me. “And not the weak stuff the cat peed. Heat up some Café de Olla .” She glanced outside, then back toward me again. “Your man looks like he needs it.”

I went to the fridge and pulled out the container of coffee Catalina had brought with her, and my eyes almost rolled with pleasure as I caught a whiff of its cinnamon, spicy scent. I placed it in the microwave and set the timer, leaning back on the counter as I watched it turn.

“I’m going to miss your coffee,” I murmured softly. “Are you sure you can’t come out to New York for a while? ”

Her dark brown eyes caught mine, and she gave me a smile. “ Mi Santa ,” she breathed. “I cannot. La bebé ...” Her warm eyes held mine. “When everything settles, and my girl is in a routine with mi nieta , maybe I can try.”

Catalina’s daughter was due to give birth to Cat’s first granddaughter in a few weeks. Having grandchildren to spoil made her happy and dulled the pain of losing her husband, Carlos, the year before.

I stepped toward her and took her hands in mine. “I’m sorry, Catalina, I shouldn’t have asked. It was selfish of me.”

She moved in for a tight hug before pulling away and waving a hand through the air.

“Bah! Nonsense! You have corazon de oro .” She clicked her fingers, trying to find the words.

“How you say? Ahh, yes. Heart of gold. Mi Bianca still cries with the money card you gave her for la bebé .” She lifted a hand to stroke the hair back from my face and breathed, “ Santa by name and Santa by nature.”

I gave her big eyes. “I wish someone would tell that to mi padre .”

“Bah!” Cat exclaimed loudly, waving her hand again. “His loss. Men are sometimes stubborn and stupid. Even mi Carlos acted like a fool sometimes, and I had to”—she tapped her foot hard on my tiled floor, acting out what she was trying to say—“stamp my foot down.”

God. I loved this woman.

“I’ll miss you when I’m away,” I murmured.

Her smile was warm. “You’ll see me soon, and we can do FaceTime. Mi Bianca showed me how, and it's easy. You can see mi nieta when she comes.” Her eyes lifted over my shoulder, and her face took on a brusque-like quality. “Jacob. You like Café de Olla ?”

He pushed the bi-fold doors half closed behind him and walked straight toward us. “Love it. Diablo’s mom makes it for us when she visits the clubhouse. It’s fuckin’ awesome.”

She clicked her tongue, shooting him a glare as the microwave pinged. “Language, Jacob. And who is this Diablo? Diablo is the devil, no?”

He grinned. “Exactly.”

Her face softened, and she took out the plastic pitcher and ordered, “Cups, Jacob.”

He stretched to open the door to the cupboard above her head and grabbed a few out, placing them on the counter. “Anythin’ else you need?”

“Just your words,” she demanded. “What made you angry on the phone? Is it ese idiota ?”

He reached out for me, grabbed my hips, and lifted my ass onto the countertop before standing between my legs and cupping my face gently.

He stared into my eyes and murmured, “There was another envelope on the porch this mornin’, though this one was left at the front door and not around back.

The fucker used a courier service this time.

Colt already checked their records but the asshole gave them fake ID and a pre-paid card, also in a false name. ”

“Jesus.” My eyes darted between his. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Didn’t open it. Called Talia, who arranged for it to be couriered to the detective dealing with your case. He’s coming over soon to talk to us. Now that I know what was in it, we can discuss our next steps. You wanna see what the fucker sent, or do you want me to tell you?”

I stared up at him.

“You can handle it, baby,” he murmured, touching his lips to mine. “Hand to God, Saint, nothing will touch you while I breathe air.”

My life was fucked up. I had a weird guy sending me weird gifts and making weird threats—a fact that had exacerbated the band’s need to hire bodyguards—but still, I believed every word Jacob said.

Nothing would touch me while he breathed air.

I knew it down to the core of me.

“Okay,” I agreed. “I wanna see.”

His arms slid around my waist, and he leaned down to kiss me. “That’s my girl.”

My belly fluttered.

He pulled out his phone, went to his photo app, and clicked on an image before enlarging it. Then, he held the phone up for me to see.

I peered closer. “Is that a funeral wreath?”

He nodded.

My chest tightened. “Is that his way of threatening to kill me?”

“No, baby. Look.” He pinched his fingers onto his phone screen and enlarged the photo even more.

My eyes went straight to the writing on the ‘in sympathy’ card accompanying the flowers, which read,

Saint,

Sorry for your loss.

My eyes narrowed on the image. “I don’t get it.”

“This came with it, too,” Jacob said, his voice lowering.

He fiddled with his phone again and clicked on another image.

That time, it was a photo of me and Jacob.

We were walking hand in hand down the street.

I recognized the clothes I wore from the day before when Jacob had taken me to the gym with him.

We’d just finished working out and were heading back to the car.

My face was turned toward Jacob’s, and I was laughing at something he said.

Jake was looking ahead, no doubt scanning for threats, a small smile playing around his mouth.

But what chilled me to the bone was the fact that the stalker had completely blacked out Jake’s eyes, and a big red cross had been angrily scrawled over his face.

A cold shiver ran from the top of my spine to the bottom, and the strangled gasp that left me was loud enough that Catalina rushed toward me. “ Santa. What’s wrong? ”

I pointed to Jacob’s phone and demanded, “Show her!”

“Baby,” Jacob murmured, handing Cat his phone. “It’s fine. It’s good. It shows he doesn’t mean you any harm. Just me.”

My eyes slashed toward his, and I screeched, “Are you fucking crazy?”

His fingers wrapped around my nape. “I’d rather the target was on my back than yours, Saint. It’s my job to keep you safe.”

“No!” I snapped, watching Cat scroll through the pictures. “It’s not your job anymore. You’re more to me than that.”

“Saint,” he murmured more calmly. “I don’t mean it’s my job as your bodyguard; it’s my job as your man.

What the fuck is this guy gonna do to me?

I’m trained in every fighting discipline and every type of combat there is.

I can fly planes, I can handle a car like a racing driver, and I can fight and shoot like a professional because that’s what I am.

The goddamned government gave me a license to kill, and that’s what I’ll do, baby, no thought, no hesitation. I’m gonna be okay.”

My chest felt fractured inside, like somebody had split me open and scooped out the contents. “If anything ever happened to you?—”