The Dirty Saint (Dirty #1)

1. Chapter One

1

Chapter One

After

EZRA

“Tell me what happened, Ezra.”

I clasp my hands in front of me, a tear running down my cheek. “No.”

“Ezra—”

“ No, ” I repeat, this time not bothering to hide my frustration.

The agent sitting across from me nods, his expression a mixture of sympathy and sadness, sprinkled with a bit of pity.

Even he knows just how broken you really are, Ez.

Agent Todd clears his throat before proceeding with his questions.

“What was Joey Odeh like, Lieutenant?”

“It doesn’t matter,” I say, my voice devoid of any emotion. “Because he’s dead anyway.”

The Naval Criminal Investigative Service agent swallows a sigh before glancing down at the floor, unable to meet my stare this time.

“Is it true that he held you captive in his basement?”

I sit back, crossing my arms over my chest. “Is that what your file says?”

“You loved him, didn’t you?”

I scoff, shaking my head.

Love.

What a funny concept.

The agent closes the manila folder in front of him before placing his elbows on the table.

“Ezra—”

“Don’t ‘Ezra’ me,” I bark.

And stop looking at me like I’m about to shatter right here in this dingy-ass interrogation room.

I might be broken, but not that broken that I’m falling apart in front of a complete stranger.

“Are you familiar with Stockholm syndrome, Miss Maya?” The NCIS agent asks as he goes to grab my hands.

I yank them away.

“Is that what you think I have?” I demand. “You calling me crazy now?”

I sneer, moving my file and spilling it out right of him.

“Ed— can I call you Ed? No? Okay. Anyway, Ed, you don’t know jack shit about what I went through. You weren’t there for the beatings or the rapings or the nights I was so hungry, I was tempted to scrape my skin off and shove it down my throat. So do not sit here and judge me simply because you can’t understand how I could have possibly fallen in love through all of that.”

Joey Odeh was not a good man. He hurt people. He killed people. He had a band of goons who made my life a living hell, but in the end, when it really mattered, he sacrificed himself so that I could live.

I owe him everything.

“You don’t know what I had to do to survive in that basement, Agent, so, respectfully, shut the fuck up.”

The agent nods his head again, embarrassment starting to show in the creases in his forehead.

“And what about Michael Santo, Lieutenant?” he asks. “Care to talk about him?”

I lean back in my seat. “What do you want to know?”

Probably if I actually did what he hired Joey to figure out, which was the murder of his son.

Which I did do, by the way. If you were wondering.

Caleb Santo did not deserve to live while I had sat and suffered in silence for far too long, with the memory of what he did to me always lingering in the back of my mind.

What a piece of shit.

And hell if I was going to let him get away with his actions.

Growing bored and angry with this conversation, I get up from my seat, ignoring the sound of the chair legs scraping against the floor.

“You and me, Agent, we’re done,” I say. “So if you have any more questions, feel free to insert them wherever the fuck you’d like because I am not saying another goddamn word.”

* * *

I go home at night to an empty house. It’s so quiet I can hear my heartbeat. I want to cut it out of me.

I grab a wine glass from inside the cabinet and pour myself a nice, heaping glass of pinot grigio. I don’t so much as sip it as I inhale it.

As I put the wine down, I notice the faint markings from where my wrists had been bound. Honestly, it’s a miracle I made it out of that basement alive.

I pour myself another glass and bring it up to my lips.

I know I shouldn’t be drinking away my problems. It isn’t smart. There are much better ways I can be trying to heal, like yoga and therapy.

I continue to inhale my pinot grigio.

“I laid there, unable to move or speak or scream. You pinned me down and forced yourself inside of me.”

The doorbell rings and interrupts my thoughts. A handsome man in a suit appears. I peek my head out slightly, hiding the fact I have a gun not two feet away that I’m willing to use. You start to lose trust after a while when you are put in positions where it often turns to lies.

“Is this the home of Ezra Evaline Maya?”

I nod.

“This is.”

“Ms. Maya, you have been requested at Deacon Prison by an inmate who goes by the name of Michael Santo.”

I slam the door without thinking.

“Ms. Maya?”

I rest my back against the brown wood, closing my eyes before composing myself and apologizing.

“What does he want?” I ask.

“To make amends.”

I laugh.

“Did he tell you that? Really? The man who wanted me dead and hired to have me killed now wants to establish peace? I think I’m going to need another bottle of wine. You want some?”

The man in the suit shakes his head. “I don’t drink on the job.”

“Neither do I,” I say. “Can’t have my judgments impaired.”

I grab a bottle from my cellar and take a long chug. Afterward, I put it down on my living room table. A little bit spills off onto the side of the bottle.

“Ms. Maya—”

“It’s Lieutenant Maya, and the answer is no.”

That piece of shit of a human doesn’t get to summon me. Not anymore. I won’t be his little puppet on a string.

The man takes a small step into my home. “He needs to see you, Lieutenant Maya.”

I reveal my gun, and he steps back.

“He’ll get over it.”

I’ll make sure of that.

The suited man rolls his eyes, growing frustrated. “Ezra—”

“Go home,” I say. “Rub two sticks together, start a fire, and then jump your little ass into it.”

I slam the door for good this time.

* * *

I lay in bed, unable to sleep. I checked on Noah about 50 times before finally realizing he isn’t going anywhere.

Still, I will not allow my son’s life to be threatened because of what I did seven years ago to his father.

Finally, after a while of twisting and turning in my bed, I ultimately decide to call up my cousin, NCIS Agent Brianne ‘Briggs’ Maya who, thankfully, answers.

“Hey, Ez. You alright?”

That shithead in a suit believed he could just show up at my doorstep with my son sleeping down the hall, and I’d simply let his ass in.

“Ez, you there?”

I’m fuming, pissed beyond anything I’ve ever felt before.

“Ezra—”

“A man came to my house today. Said Michael had requested me from prison.”

Briggs scorns. “What could he possibly want with you now? He got his fucking confession.”

I shake my head. “I don’t know.”

But I’ll damn well find out.

Briggs snaps, “I should have shot him dead when I had the chance.”

I laugh.

“You and me both.”

“Hey, if you need—”

I wave that idea away. “Absolutely not.”

My cousin sighs. “All it is is extra protection for you and Noah. The Agents will be handpicked by me—”

“Brianne,” I cut her off. “I can handle myself. I—”

My voice catches in my throat.

This time, I don’t bother to hide the anger.

“I will keep Noah safe and as far away from my past as possible.”

It doesn’t matter what I have to do or the lengths I’d have to go through to keep my child safe.

Briggs asks, “You want me to look into the mystery man?”

I stare out the window. “That won’t be necessary.”

“Don’t do it, Ez. Whatever you’re thinking of doing right now, don’t. Y ou hear me?”

I wave her suggestion away.

“I’m serious, Ezra. Don’t you dare go to that prison. Not unless you want to be sleeping in your own cell.”

That man needs to be taught a lesson, though. You don’t come near my son unless I give you permission.

Briggs lets out a sigh on the other end of the phone.

“Just be careful. Please .”

I nod.

“I always am.”

Before/During

JOEY

I kidnapped Ezra at a funeral. She had been standing over the casket, her cheeks covered in tears. She was shaking, but she wasn’t sobbing.

It was as if she was numb to all the loss and pain around her.

Honestly, it made me sad for her; how someone could be so desensitized to heartbreak.

And now she’s chained up in my basement, which is weird, to say the least. After all, she’s a grown woman in my home that I have zero plans to fuck. But I need something from the Lieutenant and time is of the essence.

Turning to face me, I watch Ezra’s eyes blaze with anger as she finally notices me, putting two—and—two together. She yanks on the chains, thrashing and flailing, her whole body reacting.

“You,” she breathes. “You fucking did this to me!”

I take a sip of bourbon, nodding.

“Maybe,” I say, walking in her general direction, “But I didn’t have a choice.”

I grab hold of the top of the chain and lock my gaze on her. “And I can’t take all the credit. The bomb that killed your friend deserves some, too.”

“Go fuck yourself,” she snaps.

The lines of my lips settle into a smirk before resorting back to a smile.

She’ll be a fun one. Not like the last man who was here.

He broke rather quickly.

“Is this how you get off,” Ezra demands. “By torturing women? Making them scream and gasp? This your sick version of a hard-on?”

I ignore her.

I then walk back over to the door and let Dom inside the cell.

“I’m assuming this is the one,” he asks, putting his backpack down.

“You’re late.”

He shrugs. “Sorry, Boss. I’m here now.”

Ruffling through several types of weapons: knives, blades, scalpels, and pliers, he chooses a small dagger.

“Go ahead,” Ezra barks. “Cut me, you fucking jackass.”

Dom twirls the weapon on his forefingers, grinning.

“She’s mouthy, this one.”

I nod.

“Not for long, though.”

The Lieutenant laughs. “You underestimate me. I get it, though. You both probably look at yourselves in the mirror each day and get hard at your own reflection because in your giant, egotistical minds, you believe you are the shit. Maybe it’s the muscles. Maybe it’s the tattoos. But I think it’s all just a mask to hide the real truth behind, which is that you’re cowards.” She spits a wad of saliva on the ground. “But hey, you wanna do your worst to me? I’d like to see your dumb asses try.”

Dom and I shoot each other looks.

He’s furious. I can tell.

Me, however? I’m slightly impressed.

But Ezra Maya is not the first person to think they can handle my team and me. She hasn’t a single clue what is coming her way.

She thinks she’ll stay silent now.

I hate to tell her that they never do.