Son of Saint (The Savage Heirs #1) Read Online Ruby Vincent

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Crime, Erotic, Mafia, Romance Tags Authors: Series: The Savage Heirs Series by Ruby Vincent
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Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 154882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 620(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
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“My sister and I stick together.”

That mercifully ended the conversation long enough for the four of us to strap him on and carry him to the busted pickup outside. The rattling can was missing a tailgate and a bumper, but it ran.

I stretched out next to him on the truck bed, staying low to avoid Digger’s guys, and staying near him. I held him to me, reaching across, I took his hand.

I swore he squeezed back.

SUNNY

“...saving this guy’s life...”

“...take care of myself...”

“All of you, wait here.” The harsh bark clanged in my skull, sounding the elephants to stampede. My head, neck, chest, and toenails screamed in agony, and that was the only explanation. I was trampled under flat, gray feet.

I peeled an eye open. A cloud of black and brown hovered above me.

“Let me stay with him.”

“Absolutely not. Now out of the way. We’re wasting precious time.”

I didn’t know if the voice argued. Darkness stole her away.

I WOKE SOMETIME LATER. How I knew time had passed was simple. My ebony-crowned guardian was nowhere to be seen.

My senses slowly returned to me. Pounding head. Steady beeping in my ears. Dry, aching thirst ravaging my throat. Blank, white ceiling above me.

I dropped my head and landed on the tray of medical tools. I stiffened, fists clenching and brushing against the bandage on my side. A tall figure in white stepped into the room.

“No Name, are you awake—?”

Shooting up, I trapped him in a headlock, stopping the shout in his throat on the tip of the scalpel pressed to his artery.

“Why yes, I am.” My voice was a low, chilling rasp. “Awake and bursting with oh so many questions. Who are you and what the fuck did you do to me?”

“I am not the person or persons who tried to kill you.”

I was impressed he replied evenly.

“I’m the one who patched up their handiwork.”

I was in a small room without much to say for itself other than the cushioned surface I was lying on, a ring of medical equipment, and plastic on the floor.

“You’re not our doc,” I said, straining to remember the twenty-four, forty-eight, seventy-two hours— How many days had it been? At least one since my last clear memory was of walking into Laser at one in the morning. The sunlight streaming through the slats taunted me.

“Who brought me here?”

“A couple of street kids. Would you mind letting me go?” he asked dryly. “I am perfectly capable of answering these questions without a blade to my throat.”

I constricted his neck, hissing in his ear, “What did you do to me?”

“You... ruptured your... liver,” he forced. “I stopped the bleeding and... treated your head wound. You’ll live... you just... need to... rest.”

“What—?”

He twisted. The tiniest pinprick of pain poked my side. The room flipped upside down and faded.

MACKENZIE

Sienna and I huddled on the living room couch, making ourselves as small as possible in the immaculate space. When River said he had a doctor on standby, I imagined a ruddy-cheeked grump living in disgrace in an apartment above a pizzeria, sterilizing his tools with leftover tequila.

The private side entrance leading into this mid-century modern space, city prints on the wall, and stew bubbling in the Crock-Pot hadn’t entered my mind. I felt bad sitting on his white couches in my dirty clothes. On the other hand, if he ran an illegal surgery catering to men who were allergic to cops, he’d likely had dirtier than me riding these cushions.

“Why is this taking so long?” I said to no one in particular.

For the last two hours, I willed open the door the doctor disappeared through. I couldn’t so much as hear a machine beep. This barking, blue-eyed, no-nonsense man in a white coat could be operating on him back there, or he might be harvesting his organs.

“Someone should check on him. Make sure he doesn’t need help or something.”

Marty held up his hands. “That’s what a sterile room needs, my filthy ass.”

I rolled my eyes. “Fair enough.”

A knock sounded on the front door. All the warning I got before River strode in carrying bags.

“Lunch.” River tossed subs at Marty and Nathan. He wedged between me and Sienna, dropping ours on our laps. “Turkey on wheat,” he told me. “Just how you like it.”

I hesitated.

“No charge. I got these for free.”

“Who do you know giving out free subs?” I stopped messing around and unwrapped the fresh treat. “Slathered in the good mustard too.”

“The owner’s kid ran off with her trash-bag boyfriend. The guy dumped her for someone else and kicked the girl out. I watched her back during the two months she was too ashamed to crawl back to her father.” He swept out a hand. “Hence free subs for life.”

I tore off a bite, moaning at each flavor hitting my tongue. “Have you ever considered—I don’t know—helping without the expectation of something in return?”



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