Page 50 of The Tenth Circle

Well,towerover me.

“What kind of friend would I be if I give up my boy?”

One who values the use of his dick.

“A smart one.”

“I’m already smart.”

“A useful one.”

He boops my nose with his pointer. “To who?”

I slap his hand. “Me, you idiot.”

Kissing the spot where I hit him, Riggs says, “I love it when you’re stabby.”

“Bishop!”

“Montgomery!”

“Are you gonna tell me where Saint is or not?”

He throws an arm over my shoulder. “That depends…you here to fight with him?”

This guy thrives on drama almost as much as Archer, so I’m hoping this question is self-serving.

Before I get the chance to find out, Riggs sways on his feet, and I use all my might to keep him from hitting the floor.

Fuck my life. I don’t need this shit. I didn’t come here to play captain save a druggie.

I came to play vigilante.

Grunting, I maneuver Riggs onto the bench, and when his arms stretch on the back of it I ask a not so nice, “You gonna tell me where Saint is or what?”

With a jut of his chin, Riggs gestures in the direction of a wooden door a few feet away.

A millisecond is all it takes for me to whip around and march over to it like the madwoman I was accused of being.

“Give ’em hell, pretty lady!” Riggs shouts behind me, but the fire building in my throat prevents me from responding.

When I reach the door I pull the handle, and of course it’s locked, so I resort to furiously pounding against the wood.

No response, so I start kicking.

And kicking some more.

Then kicking and pounding until finally it swings open, revealing a scowling, shirtless Saint.

As hard as it is, I refuse to allow myself a taste of eye candy.

Saint’s scowl widens into a mischievous smile. “Hey there, Jimi. Fancy seeing you here.”

With zero chill, I slap him in the face.

Saint barely blinks. In fact, he’s still smiling.

For a few seconds we partake in a hot and cold stare down, until Saint breaks it with an eyeroll, slamming the door in my face.