The Saint: The Original Sinners Book 5 (24 page)

“You see, the mind-fuck is simply this—I take your mind, I play with it, I make you think things you didn’t think you would think and then suddenly...you’re thinking them.”

“You can’t pull that stuff on me.”

“
Non? Le prêtre
is pulling a mind-fuck on you.”

“How?”

“By making you wait for him. You don’t want to wait for him, do you? You want to be his lover right now. Today even.”

“No. Not today. I wanted to be his lover yesterday. There’s no reason to wait.”

“I know the reason for it.”

“You do?”

“Oh,
oui.
He’s manipulating you. Here you are. So young. So beautiful. So ripe for the plucking. And yet you sit there...unplucked. This is how he proves he owns you like a dog on a leash. Heel. Sit. Roll over. Play dead. You’re not his lover. You’re his puppy and you follow him anywhere. He feeds you crumbs and you lap them out of his hand.”

Eleanor sat up straighter.

“He’s not manipulating me by making us wait, okay? I’m seventeen and he’s almost thirty-one. He’s a priest and I’m in high school. I’m not even on birth control yet, and if I was and my mom found it, I’d be dead. If he gets caught fooling around with a high school student, he’ll be dead. On top of all that, he’s a sadist. He cares about me so much he wants me to know what I’m getting into before I get into it. So fine. We’ll wait. I’ll learn what I need to learn. We’ll start having sex when he’s ready and he knows I’m ready. That’s not manipulation. That’s good sense. And you could learn a little something from him about good sense.”

“Moi?”
Kingsley sounded positively scandalized at her insinuation.

“You. You picked me up from school in a Rolls-Royce? Do you know how much attention that’s going to get me? You and Søren are related—sort of. You have to be careful. We have to be careful. We can’t get him into trouble.”

“I’ll be more careful,” he pledged.

“Good.”

“I enjoyed your impassioned defense of your own lingering virginity.”

“I don’t want you thinking Søren is manipulating me when he’s not.”

“He’s not.”

“No, he isn’t.”

“But I am.” Kingsley put his feet in the seat next to her and smirked.

“You...you got me to argue why Søren and I should wait when I said five minutes ago I didn’t want to and there was no reason to.”

“It was almost too easy.”

“You mind-fucked me.”

“Does your brain hurt? I tried to be gentle since it was your first time.”

Eleanor picked up her combat boot and tossed it at Kingsley’s head. He caught it and rolled down the window.

“Don’t you dare. I love those damn boots.”

“You promise you will not throw them at me again?”

“I promise. I swear.”

“You promise you will be a good girl for me all evening?”

“The best girl.”

“Will you let me fuck you right now if I give you the boot back?”

Eleanor opened her mouth and then closed it again. Was Kingsley serious? Serious or not...

“Not for all the combat boots in the world.”

Kingsley held her boot at the window and waited.

“Toss it,” she said. “It’s fucking freezing in here.”

Kingsley rolled up the window and handed her the boot back.

“You’re giving it back?” She stuffed her feet into her boots before Kingsley changed his mind. In the future she would have to be smarter, stay on her toes.

“You passed the test.”

“What test?”

“I like to test new people who come to our world. I get them into my Rolls and try to seduce them. The winners say no. The losers say yes. But since I still fuck them everyone wins.”

“Why is it losing to say yes?”

“Because if you say yes to being fucked by a stranger without any discussion of limits, wants, protection and safety, you are very likely not yet ready for our world. A submissive too eager to please a dominant can get into trouble quickly in my world.”

“So I passed?”

“One test.”

“There are others?”

“Many others. Wait until he puts a dog collar on you. I can’t wait to see how you respond to that test.”

Eleanor glared at him. “I’m not going to wear a dog collar.”

“He already has one picked out for you.”

“Søren?”

“Who else?”

“A dog collar? Are you shitting me?”

“Would I do that? Collars play an important role in our world. It’s a sign of ownership. So you should take it as a compliment. And then after you’ve taken it as a compliment, you can wag your little tail for him.”

“He said you were the devil.”

“He only says that because he knows how horny I am.”

He raised his hand to his head and held up two fingers as horns. Eleanor burst out laughing.

“I like you, Kingsley. I don’t want to, but I do.”

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the center of her palm. No finger sniffing this time.

“The feeling,
ma petite,
is entirely mutual.”

They arrived as Kingsley’s town house, and he escorted her inside.

“Who’s this, King?” A stunning Hispanic-looking woman in a tight white dress came down the stairs. She gave Kingsley a quick kiss on the cheek. “Nice uniform,” she said to Eleanor. It sounded like a genuine compliment, not sarcasm.

“We’re doing an age-play scene tonight. Teacher-student. I’d let you watch but it’s her first role-play.” Kingsley ran his hand over Eleanor’s bottom.

“Next time, maybe?” the woman said, giving her a wink and Kingsley another kiss. “I’ll play her sister, and you can punish us both for acting up in class, Mr. King.”

The woman strolled away, her hips swaying seductively with every step.

“Age-play?” she asked. “That’s a thing?”

“Here everything is a thing,” he said. Kingsley gave her another ass pat.

She thought about finding a knife and slicing that roaming, ass-grabbing hand of his off, but the word
sister
reminded her of a question she wanted to ask.

“Can I ask you a weird question?”

“I might not answer it, but you may ask me anything.”

“Was it Elizabeth?” she asked as he took her arm and led her up the stairs.

“Elizabeth? What about her?”

“Søren said when he was married to your sister he cheated on her with someone. Your sister caught him and whoever kissing and ran off and that’s when...” Eleanor felt weird about bringing this up but she had to know. “Søren didn’t tell me who he cheated with, only that he loved her.”

“He said he loved her?”

“Something like that. I keep thinking about why he wouldn’t tell me who she was. And then he told me about him and Elizabeth when they were kids...and your sister, she came to visit you all at school. It was an all-boys school, but they let her visit. Why?”

“Because she was a relative.”

“Right,” Eleanor said and waited. Kingsley said nothing more. “I’m asking, was it Elizabeth who Søren cheated on your sister with? They had a fucked-up childhood. They were lonely. Incest or not, I don’t care. It’s the only answer I can come up with. I mean, what else could have shocked your sister so much she...you know.”

“Killed herself?”

“That. I mean, seeing her husband kissing his own sister? That could shock anyone to death.”

“It could,
oui.
”

“I want to know who he loved enough to cheat on his wife with. I need to know, and I know you know.”

“I know,” he said.

“But you won’t tell me?”

“Not yet,” he said with a smile. “Perhaps in time. But I will tell you this, you’re on the right track. Now come with me.”

Kingsley escorted her to a room at the end of the hall on the second floor.

“Tonight is my friend Blaise’s birthday and we’re having a little party for her. I thought you should come and see how our sort plays together.”

He opened the door and led her inside a kind of sitting room.

“Oh, fuck.”

Everywhere Eleanor looked, she saw fire. Tall taper candles, all alight, covered every horizontal surface—tabletops, window ledges—and a few dozen sat on the floor in ornate silver holders. So dazzled by the scene before her, Eleanor hardly noticed the four other people in the room until Kingsley introduced her to them.

First was Blaise, the birthday girl, who wore nothing but a white button-down shirt. Next was Baptiste, dark skinned and handsome, who had some kind of sexy accent—not quite French, but close. Then another man—Sven or something. She’d stopped listening because Blaise now stood naked in the center of the room.

“Shall we?” Kingsley picked up a candle as Blaise lay on the floor on a large wooden board. Everyone in the room followed suit. Soon everyone, herself included, held a candle in their hands.

Blaise raised her arms over her head and smiled up at Kingsley.

“Happy birthday,
ma fille.
” He knelt at her side, bent to kiss her and as soon as the kiss broke, he poured candle wax onto the center of her chest.

Blaise winced in agony. Eleanor winced in sympathy. Everyone else laughed and applauded. Music played. Wine flowed. And one by one every guest took their turn dripping candle wax onto Blaise’s naked body. Everyone but her.

“Come,
chérie,
” Kingsley said, coaxing her forward.

“I don’t even know her,” Eleanor said in a whisper.

“This will make an excellent introduction.” Kingsley inclined his head toward Blaise on the floor. He was daring her to burn Blaise, and she knew it. Kingsley stood on the opposite side of Blaise, smiling at her. “You know you want to.”

“Peer pressure? Really, King?”

“We’re all doing it,” he said, his tone teasing, his eyes serious. And then she knew it wasn’t a dare, it was a test. And since she wanted to pass this test, she burned her.

Blaise gasped as hot wax landed on her inner thighs.

Eleanor brought the candle to her mouth and blew the flame out.

Kingsley gave her a wink and she sat off to the side to watch the show. Soon Blaise’s wrists were locked with hardening wax to the wooden board and then her ankles. Once her entire body was coated in the wax, Baptiste blew out his candle and inserted it inside Blaise’s vagina. Eleanor watched, breathless, as he fucked her with it. Blaise closed her eyes and moaned in pleasure. Kingsley leaned over her body and kissed Baptiste long and deep.

Eleanor stood up and nearly ran to the balcony door. She threw it open, stepped onto the balcony and shut the door behind her.

She stood there in the winter cold, swallowing lungfuls of ice.

“You left too soon,” Kingsley said. She’d been panting so hard she hadn’t even heard the door open.

“I needed some air.”

“Too much?” he asked. “Were you scared of what was happening in there?”

“Not scared.”

“Aroused?”

She laughed.

“A little.”

“Jealous?” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. As cold as it was, she didn’t fight the embrace.

“It did look kind of fun.”

“I forget how young you are. We’ll play this game again when you’re ready.”

“You kissed a man.”

Kingsley gave her a quizzical look.

“I did. I like kissing women
and
men. And fucking them. Shocked?”

“I wasn’t expecting that.”

“For your sake, I will give you this advice—start expecting the unexpected. There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamed of in your philosophy,
chérie.
”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Come. I’ll take you home.”

He kissed her on both cheeks again before wrapping an arm around her shoulders and escorting her into the house.

She got her coat and Kingsley walked her to the Rolls-Royce waiting out front.

“I think I’ll go home the usual way,” she said, staring at the car. “If that’s okay with you.”

Kingsley raised his chin and studied her.

“Worried you’ll fail the Rolls-Royce test this time?” he asked. She blushed as he put the fear she hadn’t even admitted to herself into words.

“I like walking,” she said.

“Walk away, then.” Kingsley chucked her under the chin in an infuriatingly fatherly manner. “For your sake and mine.”

He gave her the quickest kiss on the lips and she growled.
Walk away,
she told herself.
Keep walking away and don’t look back.

After a few blocks, her head cleared, her heart settled. Being around Kingsley and his friends was dangerous to her sanity and her virginity.

Eleanor neared the subway entrance but paused when she heard someone call out her name.

She turned around and saw a man standing on the sidewalk ten feet behind her. She couldn’t process the sight of him, the reality of him, the existence of him.

But there he was. And for the first time that night she felt true fear.

24

Eleanor

“DAD?”

“Have you missed me, baby?” Her father stood with his hands in the pockets of his long coat, a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes.

“No,” she said. “What the hell are you doing out of jail?”

“Shock probation.”

“Right,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. She considered running for it. The subway entrance waited twenty feet behind her. “Good for you, then. I gotta go.”

She turned her back on him.

“I thought it was only Kingsley Edge you were spreading for,” her father shouted after her. “But now I know it’s the priest, too.”

Eleanor’s heart stopped. She slowly turned around.

“What are you talking about?” She kept her voice neutral, trying not to betray her fear.

“I found a business card in your coat. Edge Enterprises. There’s only one reason a man like Kingsley Edge would give you the time of day, and that reason’s between your legs.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“I’m right, though,” he said. “I tried to figure out how a nobody like you would even meet Edge. Not much reason for him to hang out in Nowhere, Connecticut, right? I asked around and found out he’s got this brother-in-law who stops by the house sometimes. A priest. A priest from Wakefield fucking Connecticut.”

“Dad, look,” Eleanor began, “it’s not what you think. I’m not sleeping with—”

“Save it. I have all the proof I need. Want to see? Pictures in my car. Nice one of you and your priest in a black BMW. Where were you two going anyway? Romantic weekend away together?” Her father laughed as if he’d made the most hilarious joke.

“It was a funeral. He wanted me to hang out with his sister, who’s my age. He was worried about her, and he thought she would talk to me since he wouldn’t talk to him.”

“You think the bishop will buy that excuse when I tell him one of his priests is fucking my underage daughter? Can’t wait to tell your mother what’s going on with you two.”

“What do you want?” Eleanor knew her father didn’t give a damn who she fucked, what she did.

“I want you to come with me right now.”

“Why?”

“We’re going to go to my place and have a talk. I’m leaving town and I think you should come with me.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“You aren’t? Then I guess I’ll have to send all these pictures of you and Edge, you and your priest, to the police and your mother and your principal and the bishop. The newspapers, too. ‘Priest seduces teenage girl and shares her with his criminal brother-in-law’ would make a great headline.”

“Show me the pictures,” she said.

“They’re in the car.”

He walked over to an old beat-up Honda and opened the passenger door. He waited.

The last thing she wanted to do was get in that car. No, the last thing she wanted to happen was Søren getting in trouble because of her. She walked to the car and sat in the passenger seat. Her father slammed the door so hard she flinched. He got in the driver’s side and turned the engine on.

“Show me the pics,” she demanded.

“They’re at my place.”

“You said they were in the car.”

Her father started the engine and swung into the street. He turned the next corner as if trying to get her away as fast as possible from Kingsley’s house.

“You should thank me,” her father said as he sped down a side street. “You don’t want to get mixed up with Edge. I’ve heard stories about that French fucker. Well, I suppose you know. You’re fucking him.”

“I’m not fucking him. We’re friends.”

“Friends? Is he your babysitter, too? That why he picked you up from school?”

“You’re sick. Spying on your own kid.” Eleanor shook with terror and fury. She’d been right. Someone
had
been in the church eavesdropping on her and Søren.

“Watching my own kid. Not spying. And it’s a good thing I did, too. I go away for a year and you end up spreading for some sick piece-of-shit molester priest.”

“My priest is the best man alive,” she said. Before her eyes her entire world ended—Søren’s name in the newspapers, transfer, defrocking, excommunication, and it was all her fault. “He’s been a better father to me than you ever were. You got me into trouble. He’s the one who got me out.”

“Yeah, and we both know how you’re paying him back.”

“Pull over. I’m getting out.”

“No, you’re not, little girl. You’re getting out of town with me.”

“I said, pull over,” she shouted, reaching for the wheel.

He slammed his elbow into her stomach so hard it knocked the air out of her lungs. She coughed hard and reached for the wheel again. Her father pushed back and Eleanor twisted around, scrambling out of his grasp.

“Sit down, you little bitch,” he ordered. He reached for her neck and Eleanor took a deep breath. She closed her eyes, kicked out and smashed in her father’s face with her boots. Blood erupted from his nose and the car swerved wildly in the street.

Eleanor threw open the car door and ran for it. She ran as hard and as fast as she could until she found a taxi and flagged it down. She gave the driver Kingsley’s address and begged him to hurry. A few minutes later she threw some bills at the driver and raced up the stairs and burst through the door of the town house and found Kingsley standing in the foyer loading a clip into a gun.

“Elle, what the fuck happened to you?” He looked both relieved and furious.

“My dad... He got out of prison. He made me get in his car. What are you doing with that gun?”

“Killing your father.” He shoved the gun into some kind of holster under his coat. He grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her to him. Starting at her thighs, he ran his hands all over her.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

“No, I don’t—”

He held up his hand. His palm was covered in blood.

“Jesus,” she breathed.

“Scratch on your neck.”

“Dad tried to choke me,” she said. He must have scratched her, too.

“Come with me, right now,” Kingsley said and took her upstairs to the third floor.

“Why were you going to kill my dad?” she asked as Kingsley threw open a door to a room she’d never seen. It looked like some kind of fancy office. He sat her down hard in a chair and left her there for a few seconds before returning with a first-aid kit. Kingsley knelt in front of her chair, opened the kit and told her to tilt her head to the side.

“You didn’t answer my question,” she said. Her heart still pounded painfully in her chest; her lungs burned from the running and the panic. “Why were you going after my dad?”

“Because of this.” Kingsley dug something out of his pocket and handed it to her.

With an alcohol swab, Kingsley cleaned the cut on her neck as she read the note.

A hundred grand or your girlfriend’s body will be at the bottom of the Hudson by tomorrow morning.

Included was an address and a picture.

“Oh, my God,” she said, her stomach turning. “This is my sophomore-year school picture. I sent it to him in a birthday card.”

She held the photograph in her shaking hand.

“He was going to kill me?” she asked. Her father had tried so hard to get her in the car. And she’d been stupid enough to get in with him.

“He might have. He might have been testing to see if I’d pay him off. I don’t care. He threatened you.”

“He said he has pictures of me and Søren together. He’s going to send them to my mom and the bishop and maybe even the newspaper.”

Kingsley sat back.

“I was afraid something like this would happen,” he said.

“What are we going to do?”

“Sit. Stay,” he said, standing up. “Don’t leave this room.”

“Okay.” She gave Kingsley a blank stare. He laid his hand gently on the side of her face. “Thank you.”

That seemed to surprise him. With his hand still on her face he sighed heavily and seemed to make a decision.

“King Louis XIII of France lost his father when he was nine years old,” Kingsley began, his face a mask of seriousness. “Too young to rule, his mother Marie de’ Medici acted as his regent. She should have ruled until he was eighteen. You see, the law said sixteen-year-old Louis was not old enough to reign. But his mother fucked the country over, so Louis had no choice. Louis exiled his mother and executed her lover, executed her followers and restored order. He took the throne, and all of Paris rejoiced. Some children have the luxury of waiting for eighteen candles on their birthday cake to become adults. The rest of us grow up when we are left no other choice.”

Eleanor heard the meaning behind Kingsley’s words.

“If my father tries to hurt Søren, I’ll kill him with my bare hands.”

Eleanor waited alone, trying to calm herself. She prayed quietly in her own mind, prayed Kingsley could help her, would help her.

A few minutes passed, then half an hour. Eleanor stared at the strange Art Deco clock hanging on the wall behind the desk until her eyes ached. This room must be Kingsley’s private office. Large wooden filing cabinets with locks on them lined one wall. A black phone—rotary style, like something out of an old detective movie—sat on the desk. She wanted to use it to call Søren, but something told her that would be a bad idea. Something told her Søren shouldn’t be involved in what she and Kingsley did tonight.

Finally Kingsley returned to the office and took a seat behind the desk.

“What’s happening?” she asked him.

“First, your father lied to you. He’s not on shock probation. He turned state’s evidence and started naming names to get out of prison early. Some of his old friends have put a large price on his head.”

“That explains why he wanted money from you.”

“He’s likely going to run tonight. Probably try to cross the border and get to Canada.”

“Do you think he’s going to tell on me and Søren?”

“Yes,” Kingsley said. “If only to punish you for choosing us over him.”

“What do we do?”

“I have someone who could help your father leave the country. He’s going to call me in five minutes. If you want him to do this, then answer the phone and tell him everything you know about your father’s whereabouts—where you last saw him, where he last lived. I promise this man will be able to find him. Or...”

“Or?”

“Or when the phone rings, you can let it ring. And the men who want to find your father will find him. And they will find him before morning.”

“Why are you doing this for me?” Eleanor asked, stunned by Kingsley’s offer of help for her father.

“You belong to
le prêtre.
I protect his property like my own. Your father harmed you. I would like to see him punished. But that is your decision, not mine. The phone will ring soon. Make your choice.”

“What do you mean?” Eleanor asked.

“Sam is off work tonight. I have no one to answer my phone for me. And I never answer my office phone—only my secretary does. When it rings, you answer it. If you want to play my secretary, that is.”

They looked at each other across the desk and said nothing. She heard ticking and looked at the clock.

One minute passed.

Her father had threatened to kill her if Kingsley didn’t pay him a hundred grand.

Two minutes passed.

Her father had abandoned her after she got arrested, run and let her take the fall for him.

Three minutes passed.

Her father had slapped her in the face, tried to run off with her, tried to choke her and even now the wound still bled.

Four minutes passed.

Her father had threatened to ruin Søren’s life.

Five minutes passed.

The phone rang.

“I don’t answer this phone,” Kingsley repeated. “Either my secretary answers it or we let it ring.”

The phone rang a second time.

“You can ask the person on the other end of the line to help your father,” he reminded her.

Eleanor tore her eyes from the phone and met Kingsley’s steady gaze.

“The only father in my life is a priest. And I’m not your secretary.”

The phone stopped ringing.