Ruthless Saint

XIV

MISCHA MALIKOV

I was beginning to think someone had a fucking death wish.

There weren't many people in the world that could shoot at me and get away with it. Perhaps Sin was the only one.

Now, I truly realized there was someone out there who was itching for a bullet between their foreheads.

I swore there wasn't anything in the world that could faze me. I'd seen people get shot occasionally and there were only two occasions when I'd known myself to care.

Either I made a mistake and now the worst of it all—my wife.

The woman who'd been pressed so close against my chest I could almost hear her heart pounding with each breath she took. Shallow breaths, and soft brown eyes.

The image flashed back into my mind every second, reminding me of the consequences of my selfishness. Any closer and the bullet etched into the ground would have been between her pretty little head.

The thought settled inside my chest like a knife twisting my insides. I couldn't think and I had the urge to pick up the godforsaken habit of drinking once again.

It was the second time someone had shot at her. I didn't like it. Not one bit. And worse, I hated the fact that I cared.

I rolled the cigarette between my fingers, swallowing down the urge to drink and numb the ache in my chest whenever I caught a glimpse of those quivering lips.

And then I heard it. A fucking sneeze.

My jaw tightened at the sound, and I kept my gaze locked on the road, refusing to look at her.

Another fucking sneeze.

The sound wrapped around my so-called heart, squeezing tightly until I was acting purely on instinct. I reached over, flicked the air conditioning off and switched it to heat.

"Thank you." She murmured softly and curled into the seat.

I nodded. I'd been tempted to do something I would regret. Something like bundle her up in my jacket so I could never hear another one of her fucking kitten sneezes again. 

We were quiet as we drove, both of us needing a bit of silence after the latest ordeal of a nightmare.

I guess I should have been grateful I didn't have to hear stupid questions that had a way of falling out of her lips but somehow, I'd grown used to it.

"Are you going to ignore me every time something doesn't go your way?"

Perhaps I'd spoken a little too quickly.

I slanted my eyes to her briefly but said nothing.

Her lips thinned. "This whole brooding thing is getting old, you know?"

"I'm not brooding."

"The frown and vein in your neck says otherwise."

I pulled up to a red light when she offered me a cupcake. I raised a brow, taking a minute to examine her. When she'd gotten shot at for the first time, she nearly had a panic attack.

This time, it was all smiles and witty remarks. I was starting to think I wasn't the only one with a past filled with secrets and a talent for false pretenses.

I knew the good girl act was all smokes and mirrors but this—the fake confidence and easy-going remark, it was bullshit.

The light turned green. She took the cupcake she'd offered me and shoved it into her mouth, tapping her stilettos and humming a noncommittal sound I couldn't exactly decipher. A façade.