Sinner's Saint: A Dark Mafia Captive Romance Read online

  Damn, I was really on edge.

  I turned around and walked back to the room, grabbing my phone off the nightstand and answering it. I already knew who it was. Nobody ever called me but my mother.

  “Hey mom,” I said, examining my nails. I had painted them green, my favorite color.

  “Hey Ruth, I just wanted to let you know that I’m working on a particularly heavy case, and I’m not going to be available much for the next few months.”

  “Woah, must be serious,” I said, leaning against the nightstand.

  “Yes, there was a large bust a week ago on the Southside Syndicate gang, and they’ve brought someone big to trial over it. It’s a pretty serious case,” she explained.

  I perked up when I heard the name of the gang. The guys from last night had been a part of the same gang. I was lucky to have gotten away from them. In truth, it was Saint who had saved me.

  “I just want you to stay safe there and not to go out too late at night. The streets are still crawling with members of the gang down there,” my mom continued.

  “Yeah, I’ll try not to be out late,” I replied. It was a little late for that, but I had learned my lesson. No more getting tangled up with gangsters for me. I was going to have to be more careful from now on.

  “Alright, that’s all I wanted to tell you. My father and I love you very much.”

  “Love you too,” I said, but I wasn’t concentrating on the conversation anymore. I was thinking about the Southside Syndicate and how Saint had a bone to pick with them.

  “Oh, one more thing. Don’t mention anything about the case. I’m not supposed to talk about it. It’s very serious, and they’re trying to keep it low profile.”

  “Of course not. Who would I tell?”

  My mom laughed. “Alright, Ruth. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Bye-bye,” I said.

  “Bye.”

  I hung up the phone and tossed it onto my bed. It was odd timing that I had run into the Southside Syndicate and Saint right after such a large bust. Perhaps it was better. Their numbers were lower, and they would be less organized this way.

  I shrugged and left the room to paint my nails and gather my embroidery supplies before I left the apartment. I checked the clock on the wall on the way out and realized that I would have to be faster if I was going to be there on time. For some reason, even though they made you wait forever for an audition, you still had to be there on time, or they wouldn’t let you in. Punctuality was drilled in from the get-go in the entertainment industry.

  As I stepped outside, I was met with heavy humidity and heat, something typical in Florida this time of year. The entire year was usually quite warm and humid, but the summer was the worst. I felt like I was drenched from the moment my foot crossed through the doorway outside.

  I didn’t leave my keys under the welcome mat at the door this time. I couldn’t risk it now that Saint new the building that I lived in. I placed them into my black purse, where I had the rest of my stuff for the day packed. This time, I even took a pair of sneakers to change into when I left the audition. I wouldn’t be caught off guard again.

  As I walked down the sunny boulevard toward my next acting opportunity, I recited the lines that I had been sent via email over in my head. It was a simple role as a secondary character, but I had to nail it to get the gig. There was far more competition for acting than I had initially imagined there to be. After a year of chasing my dreams to be an actress, the reality was starting to grind me down.

  When I had told my parents that I was dropping out of law school to pursue an acting career, they freaked out and pulled their financial support from under my feet, thinking that I would go broke and come running back to them so that they could send me back to law school.

  Fat chance. This bitch doesn’t give up that easily. I was determined to prove to them, and to myself, that I could be an actress instead of a lawyer. I would do it even if I had to survive off dollar-store steaks and pasta for the next five years. Any longer than that and I might consider listening to my parents for once.

  The world of acting is lonely until you’re put in a role. My last acting role had me in a group of six other women wishing their husbands farewell as they rode off to war. It wasn’t my type of movie, but the other women and I got to sit around for most of the week talking instead of acting. The shot for my role only lasted for half an hour.

  After that, it was back to going to auditions and trying to convince unscrupulous talent agents that I was a perfect fit for a movie nobody would ever see, without resorting to sucking them off in the backroom to land the role. I was surprised by how many of my fellow actresses got roles that way, but I refused to whore myself out just to get ahead. I believed that you ultimately got what you deserved, one way or another. Maybe that was foolish of me to think, but it was how I lived my life.

  As I strolled down the street, leaving my apartment behind me, I brushed a strand of hair from my face. It was unruly after I had cut it slightly too short because it was unable to stay in a ponytail for more than an hour. I had cut it myself to save money, which had been a mistake. At least it was one I didn’t have to repeat again soon.

  I also needed to dye it again. It was naturally blonde, but since I spent most of my time indoors, it wasn’t as light as I liked it to be. I wanted it to look more playful and easygoing like I spent my days in the sun on the beach. The reality was that I didn’t like the sand, and I didn’t have the time to lounge on the beach even if I did like it. I was far too busy looking for work so that I could afford to pay rent.

  That made me think of Saint again. He had such a nice car, and he appeared to have visited a good barber recently. Apparently, crime paid well, but I didn’t ever want to go that route. Karma was a force I didn’t want to reckon with.

  I went back to reciting my lines to myself, probably looking like a lunatic to anyone who saw me on the street. Florida had no shortage of those, however, so I fit right in.

  Chapter Six

  “Here, you can take my money! Just please, don’t hurt me,” I said, my voice shaking as I held out my purse to an armed man with a stocking cap pulled over his face.

  “I didn’t come for your money, darling,” he said, pulling the cap off his face to reveal who he was.

  I gasped, then a gunshot split the air between us. My body crumpled to the floor, lifeless.

  “Cut! Great take,” the casting agent said, clapping his thin hands slowly. “Ruth, you really embodied fear in that scene.”

  I clambered to my feet, a smile on my face. I had been channeling the same fear from the previous night, and it had been very real. Even my worst experiences could be used to advance my career. I found the good in everything.

  I brushed my messy hair from my face as I felt my face grow pink. “You liked it?”

  “Fantastic. We have a few more people after you, and I don’t want to get your hopes up, but I think the producer is going to enjoy this tape,” he replied.

  “Wonderful,” I said, clasping my hands together in front of me. I felt like I always did better when my rent was close to being due, but this improvement in acting had mainly been fueled by the Southside Syndicate and Saint.

  I walked off the stage with a little extra bounce in my step and returned to the changing room to get changed back into my regular clothes. I passed by a few eager acting candidates, internally shaking my head at them. Poor suckers. This role was mine.

  I didn’t want to get my hopes up, as the casting agent had warned me, but I was pretty sure that I was going to be eating well for at least another few weeks after this audition. This role was more integral to the movie, and I would get considerably more time on camera. I was hyped about it.

  I got back to the dressing room and shimmied out of the red dress I had been made to wear, grabbing my old dress from the unsecured locker to pull it over my head. I glanced at the embroidery I had begun of Saint that was tucked in my purse and smiled. I had a flash of inspiration to c
apture his handsome face with green and tan thread. I had been looking for an opportunity to use more green in my designs, and he was the perfect subject for it.

  Those eyes were powerful, a crystal green like a shard of ancient emerald, broken off from a king’s crown, no doubt. Saint’s eyes had been royal, and they lived up to his name. Under all that gruffness, I had seen something that I wanted to trust in those eyes. I had to believe that he was ultimately good because of that. The eyes were a window to the soul.

  I finished putting on my dress and placed my flats into my purse, pulling out a pair of sneakers to swap them with. It doubted I would have to run from anyone tonight, but my feet would be more comfortable in sneakers, considering the cut on my left foot.

  Once I was finished, I took my purse and left through the rear exit of the building, heading down to the drug store to pick up a box of hair dye. It was already getting dark when I left, but I figured I still had an hour or two before it was dark enough to be dangerous. Besides, I wanted to buy one of those miniature bottles of champagne to prematurely celebrate getting the role, and they sold those at the store I was going to.

  The sticky heat had lessened in the evening, but it wasn’t entirely gone. It never was in south Florida. Sometimes I questioned why I even lived here. I hoped that my acting career would take off, and I could leave this place, at least for some time. Big actors do a lot of traveling.

  I walked quickly down to the drug store. I wasn’t sure whether it closed in an hour or it was just about to close, so I didn’t want to take the gamble by being slow. I hurried down the street and quickly came upon the store.

  The automatic doors slid open as I approached them, leading me into an almost frigid interior. For some reason, they insisted on keeping these stores as cold as possible. Even though it was hot outside, I found myself wishing I had brought a jacket with me.

  In and out. I was just here for hair dye and a little bottle of champagne. I had to remind myself of that because I often got distracted by the coolers full of sparkling waters, sodas, and juice that I was partial to. I would walk out with a handful of snacks and drinks if I wasn’t careful.

  I walked briskly down the isles until I arrived at the right one. Rows of black boxes containing pictures of smiling men and women with impossibly perfect hair faced me. There wasn’t just a blonde dye. It had to be platinum blonde, ash blonde, light blonde, or neutral blonde. I always opted for light blonde, but I could barely tell the differences from the pictures on the boxes.

  I could have probably grabbed any of the boxes, and the results would have been the same, but I still picked up each one and needlessly scanned the descriptions on the back, knowing that I would be getting the light blonde anyway.

  I finally retrieved the box from the shelf and carried it to the front of the store before remembering that I was also here for that celebratory drink. I spun on my heels as a group of men entered the store.

  I sped down the aisle, a funny feeling settling at the bottom of my stomach about the men who had just entered the store. They could have been part of a biker gang, but bikers didn’t wear that much red. They looked like members of the Southside Syndicate, but I couldn’t be certain. I had only grown familiar with them last night when they chased me through the streets, and even then, I didn’t get a good look at them.

  I made sure not to catch their eyes as I went to the back of the store, lingering near the beer and wine until I felt like they might have left. I rummaged through the endless bottles of wine, looking at the labels of drinks that I would never buy. I did this for a good ten minutes until I figured the coast was clear, then I grabbed a miniature bottle of dry champagne and headed to the front of the store.

  I looked around nervously as I approached the cashier, a dweeby young man with an incredibly crooked nose. I felt a bit sorry for him, giving him a gentle smile as I placed the hair dye and bottle down on the checkout counter.

  “Do you have a membership card with us, ma’am?” he asked in a monotonous voice as he picked up the box of dye.

  “No,” I replied.

  “Would you be interested in signing up for one? You can enjoy five percent off any purchases over fifty dollars,” he recited.

  I shook my head. I couldn’t imagine myself spending fifty dollars on snacks and beer, and five percent wasn’t much.

  “I’m going to have to ask for your ID, ma’am,” the young man said as he scanned the bottle of champagne.

  There probably wasn’t even enough alcohol in that bottle to get me tipsy, but the law was the law. I pulled out my ID from my purse and slid it over the counter to the cashier. He picked it up and examined the picture on the card, looking back and forth from me to ID.

  “Okay,” he said after a moment, sliding the card back toward me.

  Christ, it shouldn’t take that long for him to verify my age. I looked almost exactly like I did on my ID. I had it renewed just last year when I turned 21.

  “Would you like a bag?” the cashier asked.

  I really wished he would stop asking me useless questions. “I don’t need one,” I said, knowing that this place would charge me fifty cents for one.

  I paid and left the store, glad to finally be out of there. It must have taken me just as long to check out as it had for me to find my stuff, hide from the suspected Southside Syndicate gang members, and return to the front of the store.

  The moment I got outside, I untwined the metal cork cover and tossed it into the bin outside the store. I popped the cheap cork off into the oil-stained parking lot and watched as the bubbles fizzed out of the bottle like jizz. It reminded me of how long it had been since I’d gotten laid.

  I lifted the bottle to my lips, the sour smell of wine wafting into my nostrils before I took a sip. I’d drink the whole thing before I went home, and why not? It would get warm after a few minutes in the Florida heat.

  I wasn’t even halfway through with the small bottle when I black van jumped the curb, barreling straight toward me. It bounced on its weak shock absorbers, the front bumper scraping against the pavement for a moment as it found its balance.

  I jumped back, trying to clear myself from the van’s path before I gotten flattened into a miserable little pancake on the dirty pavement. “Holy shit,” I exclaimed as the van screeched to a stop just a foot from my body.

  The door of the van opened, and men in various Halloween masks poured out. At first, I thought they intended to rob the drug store, but I soon discovered that it was me who they were after.

  I yelped as four separate men grabbed my body, jerking my arms away from my torso so hard that I thought they might rip out of their sockets. I was unceremoniously flung into the van, sucked into a dark vortex like a black hole had opened in the parking lot, specifically for me.

  My hands hit the metal floor of the van, and the door rolled shut, closing me inside with my captors. My purse had been flung to the ground behind me, along with my ID, phone, and anything that could possibly help me escape. I was trapped.

  I felt a sharp prick in my arm as I struggled against the man who was holding me. What was that, a needle?

  “Sleep tight,” I heard a muffled voice say, and then it all went black.

  Chapter Seven

  “It’s Ruth, I swear to god. Look at her face and tell me that’s not a Bishop.”

  “Where the fucking ID? You brought me a girl with no ID?”

  “She’ll tell you who she is. Just ask her.”

  “Bullshit. You’re getting sloppy.”

  “We had to grab her in the daytime. There’s no time to pick up after people. What more do you want from me?”

  “I want you to do your job professionally.”

  “Just ask her for her name.”

  I didn’t remember how I got here. The only thing I knew was that I was thrown in a van in the parking lot of the drug store and swept away. I hadn’t remained conscious for long in there. Now, I was in total darkness with a bag over my head. My hands were numb, and
I was attached to a chair, barely able to move.

  “Are you awake?” A deep voice boomed in my direction.

  I didn’t move. If I pretended to still be passed out, the man behind the voice might leave me alone. That was a false hope. A firm hand landed on my knee and shook it. This surprised me, and I squeaked.

  “Alright, let’s talk, shall we?” the voice said from above me.

  I was suddenly met with a bright light as the bag was pulled from my head, regifting my sight back to me. I stared up at my captor, but I couldn’t see his face. He was wearing a mask like the men who had snatched me. It was pale white and expressionless, with little cutouts where the man’s piercing blue eyes peered through at me.

  “Who are you?” I asked, already knowing what I was dealing with. These men were part of the Southside Syndicate, but for the life of me, I didn’t know what they wanted.

  “What’s your name?” the man demanded, his voice deep and unforgiving. He refused to address my initial question.

  “None of your business,” I answered.

  He chuckled. “That’s an interesting name for a pretty young woman like you, but I’m looking for a woman named Ruth Bishop. Ring a bell?”

  I was afraid to admit that was me, but I was even more afraid of what he would do to me if he believed I wasn’t Ruth. He might dispose of me in an unsavory way. “I’m Ruth,” I stated, staring into his eyes defiantly.

  “Good,” the man said, leaning forward. “Then we can proceed.”

  “Proceed with what?” I asked, my voice trembling. I tried not to show my fear, but it gripped me tighter than the ropes around my arms and legs.

  “I’ll explain everything to you in a moment, but first, I’m going to shoot you,” he said, standing straight and pulling something from behind his back.

  I closed my eyes, bracing myself for the bullet.

  *CLICK*

  There was a flash, and the sound of a camera shutter made me open my eyes. The masked man was standing in front of me, taking my picture like he was observing a statue on a visit to the museum.