The Sinners of Saint Amos - Logan Fox Page 0,247

mouth.

Again.

That’s the eighth night in a row.

I gargle half the bottle of mouth wash and stand at the foot of the stairs, staring into the dark.

But I don’t want to go back to sleep. Not if that fucking thing is waiting to pounce on me as soon as I close my eyes.

I head downstairs and let myself out onto the patio.

The ocean sounds calm tonight. The crash and sigh of the waves are barely audible from where I’m standing.

I flinch when hands wrap around my upper arms.

“Same one?” Cass asks.

I had woken him.

“Yeah.” I swipe my hair out of my face, put a hand over my chest. “It hurts more every time.”

“Psychic pain,” Cass says, coming to stand beside me and leaning his elbows on the railing. “Doctor said you’re hundreds. That shit’s healed.”

I rub my palm into the scar just below my collarbone. “He also told me it wouldn’t become infected, and it did. He also told me the scar would be barely noticeable.” I turn to Cass and point at the dark, puckered mark on my skin. “This thing is visible from the fucking moon.”

“Vain much, princess?” he says through a smirk, and reaches for me.

I step back. “I’m not kidding, Cass. It hurts. It feels…”

“Like it’s happening again?” he asks, cocking his head. “You read those articles I sent you, right?”

I roll my eyes and go back to staring at the ocean. They’ve all been trying to help me through this, but I guess no one comes back from a near-death experience without a little emotional baggage. Me? I never pack light.

A scar.

PTSD.

So many triggers they have to line up.

I smile to myself.

I’m one of them now. The Brotherhood. Just as broken and fucked up as they are. All it took was getting raped and shot.

Kismet.

Cass slings an arm over my shoulder and draws me against his chest. He’s wearing my pink robe, but didn’t bother closing it up—his skin is cool and smooth and oh so delicious to touch. I slide my fingertips over his pecs and down his ribs, then circle his waist and squeeze him as I lay my head against his chest.

His heart thumps away quietly in his ribcage.

If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t be alive.

Any of them.

But especially Cass.

I don’t remember much of what happened in the blue room. My therapist said the memories might come back one day or never. I don’t know if I want to know everything—my men already told me everything I need to know.

“Hey, I’ve got an idea,” Cass murmurs into my ear. “Something to get you out of that pretty head of yours.”

“We’re not going to raid the fridge,” I tell him, although secretly if he pushed me, I’d probably cave. I’ve already put on ten pounds—I’ll be rolling around like one of those kids in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory if my men keep stuffing me with food.

“Not what I had in mind.” Cass steps away from me and goes to the edge of the infinity pool.

He shrugs his shoulders. My pink satin robe slides down his back and pools by his feet.

Oh God, he was naked and I didn’t even notice.

How could I not notice?

Because I was stuck in my head.

He takes his time getting in the pool, as if he knows how much it turns me on looking at his body. Every muscle is toned and lean, from his taut neck to his slim biceps, to his almost-eight-pack to his gorgeous ass.

“Is it cold?” I ask him, as he slips into the black pool.

“A little.” He twirls around, sending ripples to all four sides. “Promise I’ll keep you warm if you get in.”

I glance up at the main bedroom’s balcony. There are no lights on up there. Zach and Apollo must still be fast asleep.

“Five minutes,” I tell him. “I don’t want to be all groggy for the doctor’s appointment tomorrow.”

Cass holds up a hand, fingers spread. He watches me intently as I take off my vest and boxer shorts, and swims closer when I step hesitantly into the pool.

The water isn’t as cold as I thought it would be, but I still let out a theatrical shiver when it hits my nipples.

“Oh, my poor baby girl,” Cass murmurs, scooping me into his arms and spinning us around in the water.

He urges my legs around his waist, his hands lingering on my ass as we take another slow spin.

“You know that crap about how time heals all wounds?” he asks, putting his