A Sinner’s Saint (De Bellis Crime Family #4)

Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

“ V in, I think you should call one of your brothers.” I can see him unravelling. I don’t know what happened, why he did what he just did.

When I saw Vin disappear into the kitchen with that man, I got up and followed them. I knew something was wrong at the table. He was sweating and his hands were shaking. I’ve watched it happen before, and it’s always been when his mind gets taken back to that time…

“You need to leave, Cammi,” Vin says. “You can’t be here. You can’t…” He shakes his head.

“Yeah, too bad. I’m not leaving. Give me your phone.” I hold out my hand and have to admit I’m surprised when Vin pulls his phone from his pocket and passes it to me.

I wipe the screen down the fabric of my dress, attempting to clean off some of the blood—although it doesn’t do much—and quickly push past it. At this point, both Vin and I are covered from head to toe. And right now, I need to help him. He’s not going to let me touch him. I can tell. I scroll through his contacts until I find Santo’s name and hit the call button.

“Hey,” Santo answers.

“Hey, it’s Cammi. I need help. Vin needs help,” I say, my words rushed.

“Where are you?” Santo asks.

“We’re in the alley behind Hall’s restaurant,” I tell him.

“I’ll be right there. Where’s Vin?”

“He’s here. He just… He needs help right now.”

“Okay.” The line cuts out. I return Vin’s phone and he tucks it into his pocket without looking at me. “Your brother’s coming. It’s going to be okay, Vin. We are going to be okay.” I take a step closer to him, and he steps back again.

“Don’t come near me, Cammi. I did this to you.” He’s staring at my dress. It’s covered in blood.

“Vin, I’m fine. You didn’t do anything to me. I’m right here,” I tell him. My words have no impact. He’s staring at me with so much remorse now.

“You can’t be here, Cammi. This wasn’t supposed to touch you. I don’t want the monsters to touch you,” he whispers as he takes another step away from me.

I sit down, right in the middle of the alleyway, in the dark, next to the body of the man my boyfriend just killed. “I’m not going anywhere,” I say more firmly. If he wants me to leave, then he’ll have to move me himself. Something we both know he won’t do. Not unless I ask him to.

We stay staring at each other in silence until two of Vin’s brothers come running towards us.

“Vin?” The one I recognise to be Marcel is the first to speak. “What happened?” he asks, looking around. His glare lands on the dead guy before flicking back in my direction.

Santo squats down so he’s eye level with me. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I called you here to help Vin. Not me.” I push to my feet and Santo follows me up.

“Take her home,” Vin says. “I don’t want her here.” His voice has gone cold. Hard. I’ve never heard him sound like this before.

“I’m not going…” I start to argue, only to slam my mouth shut when Vin looks at me.

“I don’t fucking want you here, Cammi. You need to leave,” he growls.

“Too bloody bad.” My hands land on my hips. I’m stubborn at the best of times. But when it comes to Vin, I might just be finding new heights of obstinance I’m willing to go.

“What happened here?” Marcel asks again.

“I heard his voice. In the restaurant. He was… He…” Vin can’t get the words out, but he doesn’t need to. We all know what he’s trying to say. I want to go over and wrap my arms around him. He needs to know that I’m still one hundred percent in this. I don’t care about what happened. I care about him. That’s all.

“Okay. We need to get this cleaned up. I have to make a call.” Marcel reaches into his pocket. “I might need your help,” Marcel says into his phone seconds after he dials.

“Why?” Vin’s oldest brother’s voice shouts through the speaker.

“I just killed a Russian…” Marcel sighs, and my brows draw down. Why is he taking the blame?

“I’ll be right there. Drop me a pin,” the voice replies, and Marcel cuts the call.

“Get out of here. Both of you. You were never here, got me?” he stresses, and I nod my head.

“Marcel, you can’t take the fall for this. It’s on me, not you,” Vin argues.

“Yeah? Well, either I tell Gio it was me, or you explain to him why his kid brother killed a Russian made man?” Marcel grunts. “And I promise you don’t want to do that, Vin. Now, get out of here. I’ll sort it.”

A Russian made man? Vin killed a Russian mafia member. Is this going to come back on him? There were a lot of people in the restaurant, a lot of people who saw them walk out here together. “Witnesses.” The word slips out of my mouth before I realise I’m speaking.

“What?” Santo asks. He’s the only one close enough to hear me.

“In the restaurant, there were a lot of people…” I explain. “A lot of witnesses.”

“It’s okay. No one is stupid enough to say anything,” Santo tells me.

“Take her the fuck home. Get her out of here.” Vin throws an arm in my direction. He’s pacing up and down the alleyway while tugging on the ends of his hair.

“Let’s go. You being here right now isn’t helping him,” Santo whispers.

“I’m not leaving him.” I readjust my arms, crossing them tighter over my chest. I take a step towards Vin.

Marcel steps in front of me. “He wants you to leave. Santo will take you home. I’ve got this.”

“I… Vin? Don’t make me leave you right now,” I plead with him.

“You should never have been with me, Cammi,” Vin says, his eyes devoid of emotion before he turns his back to me.

I might not have been the one he stabbed, but I sure as hell feel like I have a huge gaping wound in my chest right now. I can also feel the tears building. I will not cry. This isn’t about me. I won’t put that added pressure on him.

I pivot on my shoe to look up at Santo. “Can you take me home? Please?”

“Let’s go.” He nods, and without looking back, I follow him over to the blacked-out SUV idling in the distance.

Santo didn’t take me home, though. He brought me to the De Bellis estate. Told me to get cleaned up, explaining he’d drop me off after. Which is why I’m now standing in Vin’s bedroom. Alone. I take a deep breath, make my way into his attached bathroom, reach a hand into the stall, and turn on the shower.

It’s strange being in here without him.

I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to be the one he sought out, the one he took comfort in. When he looked at me like he was disgusted by me, my heart shuttered. I’ve done my best to keep the tears at bay. Until now.

Stripping off my ruined dress, I slide my panties down my legs and step into the shower. Immediately falling to the tiled floor as I let everything pour out. My own heartbreak. The ache I feel for Vin. The frustration that I can’t get rid of his nightmares for him. The anger I have towards his father for doing what he did, and the men who did those horrible things to him. I want to be able to wave a magic wand and make it all go away. Seeing him hurting hurts me. I can’t pretend to understand or feel even a tenth of his pain, his trauma. But I physically ache when I see him so broken.

I bring my knees up and rest my forehead on them. The hot water washes over me while the red stains the water before disappearing down the drain. I need someone to tell me how to help him. I can’t figure it out on my own. I’m in over my head. I can admit that. I also can’t ask anyone. If I did, I’d be betraying him and that’s something I will never do.

I’m not sure how long I’ve been sitting in this shower. But, eventually, I manage to pull myself together. I stand and wash myself off with Vin’s soap. His scent surrounds me, and a fresh set of tears falls. I swipe at my face before turning off the faucet and grabbing a towel. Drying off quickly then wrapping the plush material around my body.

I probably shouldn’t, but I help myself to Vin’s wardrobe. I pull one of his hoodies over my head. It reaches my knees. It’s basically a dress. And when I walk out again, something shiny on his dresser table catches my eye. The little tin that he carries around with him. I’ve never smoked a day in my life, but right now seems like a good time to give it a go. It works for Vin, helps him numb the pain. Which is something I need. I need to not feel.

So I open the tin and take out a joint. I search for a light but there isn’t one. I move over to the bedside drawer. Open it and find a few lighters, snagging one before I walk out onto the balcony and shut the door behind me.

Sitting on the small outdoor sofa, I put the joint in my mouth and light it up, inhaling as much of the smoke as I can. My chest burns and I cough up a lung while exhaling. But I am not deterred as I puff on it again. A little slower this time. I still cough but nowhere near as much. By the time I get near the end of the joint, I’m starting to feel lighter. And I finally understand the appeal.

The door to the balcony opens, and I look up to see a very pissed-off Vin. He appears freshly showered. How long has he been here?

“What the fuck are you doing?” he snaps, reaching out to snatch the joint out of my hand.