Yes, Eden Harris will be my prize. All mine. I won’t allow her to be sullied by that dirty sinner. No one is good enough for her, no one is righteous, not even me. But she can save me. I can be worthy. I just need to prove myself. I have to go the extra mile and prove to God that I, and I alone, am worthy of an angel’s love.

  “I need your help,” I say, taking a seat on the bed and patting the place next to me. He eyes the spot, then my face, before quickly staring at the floor again. I’ve given him no particular reason to fear me, but he does. He senses that he is inferior, weak. And he acts…submissively.

  Tentatively, he takes the seat, perching on the edge of the bed, ready to flee. “Uh, sure. How can I help?”

  “I’m concerned about Eden.”

  His eyes meet mine, wide with panic. “What? Why? What’s happened to her?”

  “Nothing. Yet. But there’s a man I’m concerned about. I think you may know him. Ash. Tall, wears a leather jacket, and drives a Mercedes.” His face pales with each word, and he swallows heavily.

  “Uh, yeah. He’s my sister’s ex-boyfriend.”

  “What’s his full name?”

  “Ashton Haines.”

  “How long ago did they break up?”

  “Four years ago.” Not recent then.

  “Did she love him?” I ask, disgusted by the notion. Love; such a pointless, fake emotion.

  Otto blinks at me, shrugging scrawny shoulders. “I guess. She was sad when they broke up, but Mum was dying.” He frowns. “Eden looked after her, and me. She had no time. He got arrested, and they argued.” He shrugs those skinny shoulders. Four years ago, he would have been thirteen. Too young to notice the finer details of his older sister’s failing romance.

  “I need to know everything you can tell me. Where does he live? Work? Friends? Associates?”

  “Uh, he works at Paddy’s. It’s a bar in Peckham.” His fingers resume twisting in his t-shirt hem: a nervous habit. His gaze drops to his lap, and he chews on his bottom lip.

  “You can tell me anything, Otto. I want to help you,” I lure, sensing more.

  His eyes dart to me before retreating again. “He uh… he’s friends with Billy and Brad Bromley.”

  A tingle of excitement shoots up my spine. This is too good. “Friends?”

  “He works for them.”

  I can’t imagine Eden will pay him any attention if she discovers he is a drug dealer. “I see. What does he do for them?”

  “He finds dealers, street kids mostly.”

  I have to suppress a laugh. This is perfect. “Dealers like you, Otto?”

  He nods solemnly. “Yeah. After they broke up, I saw him from time to time. He’d always slip me twenty quid, you know?” He sighs. “I thought…I thought he was just being nice. Because he still loved my sister. Then I saw him one time, and he asked how Eden was. I told him she was working double shifts and going to Uni and that I felt bad about it.”

  “And he offered you a job?”

  He nods. “He was trying to help. I didn’t want to deal, and at first, it was just weed, you know? It seemed harmless, and the money was good. But then they asked me to sell coke. I couldn’t say no. No one says no to them.” And that, kid, is how you end up in a gang with no way out. “I asked Ash to help me, and he just said that I should be grateful because I was making more money in a week than most people do in a month. But I was scared. I knew I’d get caught eventually, and I did.” He shrugs again. “Eden was really mad, and we argued, and I stormed out. To calm down, you know? I was just on the edge of the estate when I was shoved in a van.”

  “Thank you for telling me, Otto.” I push to my feet, and he scrambles off the bed.

  “Is…is Ash going to hurt Eden?”

  I smirk. “Don’t worry about Ashton.” I’m about to destroy him. “I told you, Eden is under my protection.”

  His thin body sags in relief. “Okay. Good.”

  “And Otto…”

  “Yeah?”

  “Eat something. You look ill.” I stalk from the room, leaving the door open as I go.

  I take my phone out and call Jase.

  “Saint.”

  “Ashton Haines. Who is he?”

  “He used to work for us.” The plot thickens. “He brought Eden to me.”

  “Used to? Doing what?”

  “Delivering product. He decided he wanted out. Wanted to go clean.”

  Oh, Jase, how naïve you are. Young Ashton isn’t clean, he’s a drug dealer, and he also knows far more about my business than I would like.

  “How is he still alive?”

  Jase sighs. “If we kill every guy who decides they don’t want to work for us anymore, no one will want to work for us in the first place.”

  “Fine.” I’ll concede the point, but Jase just gave me every reason to end Ashton Haines, though I don’t exactly need one.

  He wants my angel, and that’s enough.

  I wait until the club is busy before leaving my lounge. I pass the bar where Eden is hurrying around, making drinks. She spots me, and our eyes lock briefly. Don’t worry, angel, I’ll save you from that sinner. We are each other’s salvation.

  I climb the stairs and pass through the main body of the church before I finally reach the outside. The air is cool and crisp, the clean scent of the woods drifting on the wind.

  Eden’s car sits at the very back of the lot, impossible to miss, even parked beneath the shadow of a tree. I approach it, taking two small tools from my pocket and shoving them in the lock. It gives way in all of a few seconds, the rusted and worn security creaking open easily. I reach inside, pulling the lever to pop the bonnet.

  The engine is a mess of rusted components and scrambled cables. I pull the image I memorised from a downloaded VW Beetle manual to the front of my mind. I spot the starter motor and disconnect the wires, tucking them into a void in the engine. Then I close the bonnet and leave, heading back into the club.

  Now I just have to see how this plays out.

  19

  Eden

  My feet throb, and a dull ache has started to penetrate my skull. That was a long and busy Saturday night. I barely had time to breathe.

  I put away the last of the washed glasses, and go to the cloakroom to grab my coat and bag. By the time I get upstairs, the club is dark and quiet. A single guy is cleaning up, mopping spilt drinks off the ancient stone floor. Sidelights emit a low glow over the old walls. In the absence of the pounding music, flashing lights, and writhing bodies, the building is once again, just a church. I drop my gaze to the floor and pause over a tomb slab. Henry William Wright. Died 1902. I don’t suppose dear old Henry here expected to be trodden on by hundreds of drunk individuals when he asked to buried under the floor of the church.

  When I get outside, I take a deep breath of the fresh air. I’d never tell Saint or Jase, but the catacombs make me painfully claustrophobic. Just the knowledge that you’re buried underground, along with the dead…it seems to send my mind into a panic. Out here though, it’s peaceful.

  Salvation is a pain to get to, being as it is on the outskirts of the city. Within two miles, you’re thrown right back into the centre of an industrial estate, complete with ugly breezeblock buildings, billboards, and graffiti. But right here, it’s so tranquil, you could almost imagine that you’re in the countryside, with nothing but woods around. Saint has carved a tiny patch of sanctuary right here. It’s just a shame it’s a nightclub. That’s the way the world works now though. Nothing can just…be. Everything must serve a purpose — make money.

  I open the door of my car, and it creaks in protest. Condensation clings to the inside of the windscreen, and I swipe the sleeve of my coat over it. I smile as I remember my mum driving this car down the motorway, making me wipe the inside of the windscreen for her every few seconds because ‘Bessy’ wasn’t the most watertight. The car doesn’t have a sunroof, so I never really worked out why the seats were always damp in winter. Now though, I don’t care. It adds to her character and reminds me of my mum.

  Pushing the key into the ignition, I turn it over. A flat click is the only response.

  “No. No, no, no.” I turn it again, and it’s the same. “Shit!” My hand slams over the dashboard, and I lean my forehead against the steering wheel. “You had to do this to me now?”

  I pull the bonnet lever and get out of the car, opening her up. I turn on the torch on my phone, shining it on the mess of mechanical components. Nothing looks especially amiss, but then, what do I know?

  It’s times like this, when you need to be able to call someone, that it hits me that I have no one to call on. Well, maybe one person. I know Ash will be waiting for me at my building, the same way he has been ever since I told him the cartel was involved in Otto’s disappearance. He seems to think I’m in danger — that someone is going to come for me. It’s been three weeks, and no one has come for me so far. I guess it’s sweet that he cares though.

  Resigned, I take out my phone and call Ash. He picks up on the second ring, and I hear the slamming of a door in the background.

  “Eden, I was just coming to yours.”

  “Can you pick me up from Salvation? My car won’t start.” I hate asking anyone for favours, but over the last few days, I think I’ve begun to trust Ash again. I’m lost without Otto. My brother is all I have, and this world is a lonely place for a girl who has no one. I’d forgotten what it was like to have someone to lean on, someone who will actually be there for me in my hour of need. I learned a long time ago that the only person I have to rely on in this world is myself.

  “I’m on my way,” he says and hangs up.

  I shove my phone in my pocket, gnawing on my lip. I don’t want Ash to get the wrong idea, but I just need a friend right now.

  The tyres of Ash’s Mercedes crunch over the gravel, the lights temporarily blinding me as they sweep past. Pushing off my car, I cross the lot to where he’s stopped. I hear footsteps, barely audible over the running engine. I squint against the headlights, making out the silhouette of a person by the passenger door. Broad shoulders. Rigid. Too still. I step past the line of the lights, and my eyes take a second to adjust.

  “Saint?” His black suit seems to soak up all the light, yet the pale skin of his face glows in the dark.

  He says nothing, simply moves closer and swipes an errant lock of my hair behind my ear. The over-familiar contact jolts me, and I shiver.

  “What are you doing?” I whisper.

  His lips quirk and those blue eyes meet mine, entrapping me. The slamming of a car door breaks my trance, and I turn to watch Ash stride around the front of the car. His entire frame is tense, bristling with aggression and promising destruction. Moving away from Saint, I meet Ash and place a hand on his chest. He says nothing, and I’m grateful because the thought of what Saint might do to him sends a shiver down my spine.

  “Ashton,” Saint says. “It’s good to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.” What? How does he know who Ash is? I’ve never spoken about him. “You should know there’s no honour among thieves. Whispers travel through the grapevine.” Ash clenches and releases his fists, and I move bodily in front of him.

  “What are you talking about, Saint?” I ask.

  “Come on, Eden. I need to get back.” Ash wraps an arm around my waist, trying to guide me to the car.

  Saint laughs. “I bet you do.”

  The testosterone is so thick I’m practically choking on it. “Okay, enough!” I snap. “What is going on?”

  “You know, criminals are easy to manage. Easily motivated. They’ll tell you anything for the right price.” A small victorious smile pulls at Saint’s lips. “Word has it you’re involved in recruiting for the Brothers, Ashton. Putting kids on the street to deal. Tsk, tsk. That’s low, even by my standards.”

  Saints words set in, and I stagger away from Ash. He recruited kids…Otto. “Tell me he’s lying,” I whisper through my tightening throat. But one look at Ash tells me all I need to know. Guilt: it’s written all over him, plain as day. I can’t breathe. It feels like I’ve been punched in the gut.

  Before I fully register the movement, my arm pulls back and my palm collides with his cheek. The clap reverberates through the air, and my hand stings. For a moment he just blinks.

  “Eden, I didn’t know—“

  “Go!” I can’t stand to look at him.

  I see the trace of hurt in his eyes, but I don’t care. I’m too crippled by his betrayal. He got Otto into dealing. He ruined my brother’s life. He may even be responsible for his death for all I know. “I’m not leaving you—“

  “Go!” My voice breaks and my chest seizes with a stabbing sensation. Our eyes lock, and something irrevocably shatters between us. He takes a slow step back, then another, and another until he’s slipping inside his car. The engine revs and pulls away, kicking gravel everywhere. I stand there numbly, long after the sound of his car has faded.

  “You’re upset,” Saint finally says to my back.

  I squeeze my eyes shut and inhale a deep breath before turning to face him. Those icy blue eyes meet mine, probing, studying. “Yes, I’m upset, Saint!” My voice cracks and tears spill down my cheeks.

  “Why? Now you know the truth.”

  “Because I trusted him.” God it hurts. The seed of betrayal burrows beneath my skin like a virus. “I once loved him,” I whisper, a sordid confession. Ash was my first love. He was there for me when my mum was dying, and I have no doubt he would have been there for me long after if I hadn’t broken up with him. Ours was an innocent kind of love, born from two young people in desperate situations. I loved him, but my mum only had weeks to live. I was about to become Otto’s guardian. I no longer had room for a storybook romance with the drug dealing bad boy. Without a parent, Otto and I were that much closer to being a statistic. I loved Ash, but I loved Otto more. Maybe that’s why he did this. Did he want to hurt me as much as I hurt him?

  A choked sob leaves my lips, and I rub at the stabbing pain in my chest.

  Saint is suddenly in front of me, his finger beneath my chin, forcing my gaze to his. Confusion lingers in his irises. “But he isn’t worthy of you.”

  “No,” I breathe. He isn’t. He never was. The man I once knew did bad things, even though he was good. This though…this is another level of evil; to get children into crime when they already have so little opportunity to get out of their shitty lives. To get my brother into it. And the lies! He’s been there for me, acted as a friend, a shoulder to cry on, and the entire time he knew exactly what had happened to my brother. Does he know if Otto is alive or dead? Does he care? I feel sick. I feel even more broken, and honestly, I didn’t think it was possible. I’ve been walking around fractured and delicate, but now the fissures widen to gaping cracks.

  Saint’s fingertip swipes over my cheek, catching a stray tear. He stares at the drop of moisture in fascination. “You shouldn’t cry, Angel.”

  “Why?” Why does he care? No one cares about Otto or me. Never has that been more apparent than now.

  Saint studies my face, a confused frown pulling at his features. “Because it makes me want to hurt him.” I see the truth in his words written all over his face.”

  “I want to hurt him too.” I’m hurt. I’m broken, but I’m also angry.

  Saint’s eyes light with something dangerous, but the usual instinct to move away from him is strangely absent. He’s a monster. I see the bloodlust in his eyes. The utter absence of restraint or humanity, and yet I’m not scared because it’s not at me. It’s for me.

  He leans closer, and without touching me anywhere else, brushes his lips over my forehead in the faintest caress. It makes me feel…safe, and I haven’t felt safe in a very long time.

  “I’ll fix it, little angel,” he murmurs against my skin before pulling away. “Do you need a lift home?”

  “My car won’t start.” Just to add to my problems.

  “Come.” He leads me to his car and opens the passenger door. “Get in. I’ll take you home.”

  Usually, I’d think twice before getting in a car with Saint Kingsley, but not today. Today he’s not the villain — he’s the hero.

  I have to wonder just how twisted my world has become that a man like him could be the white knight.

  Saint drives me home in silence, and I only speak to direct him. He pulls into the car park and allows the car to idle.

  “Thank you,” I whisper.

  “I’ll send a car for you tomorrow.”

  “Oh, that’s not necessary. I can get…” Who? No one. I can’t ask anyone for help.

  He slowly turns that icy gaze on me. “It wasn’t a request, angel.” I glance out of the window at the dark car park. I hate walking into my building at this time. Muggings are a nightly occurrence around here. Reaching for the door handle, I pull it, allowing cold air to spill into the warmth of the Jaguar.

  “I’ll wait for you to reach your building,” he says, as though reading my mind.

  “Thanks,” I say before climbing from the car.

  The walk to my building doesn’t feel as scary as usual because I can feel Saint watching me. That definitely shouldn’t be reassuring, but nothing is as it should be anymore. My ex-boyfriend is a monster. My brother is embroiled with the cartel and could be dead for all I know. And the man, who a few short weeks ago wanted me dead, is now the only person I can even slightly rely on.

  This is the hand I’ve been dealt. I just have to accept it.

  20

  Saint