Mason: The Sinner Saints #4 by Adrienne Bell Read Free Book Online Page A

head.
    It sure as hell couldn’t hurt. And God knew she needed to think straight. Right now, she had no idea where to even start looking for the man who stole the Evening Star.
    She figured she could make some calls. See if any of her parents’ old friends had heard anything. Of course, most of them had been in their prime back when she was a kid. What she needed were some fresh leads. Maybe her name would be enough to open a few doors. Sure, it was a long shot, but right now it was the only one she had.
    A gust of wind howled down the narrow alleyway. Sara pulled her coat tighter across her chest as a trail of goosebumps suddenly sprung up along the length of her arms. An odd tingle took root on the back of her neck, causing the hairs to stand on end.
    Sara sucked in a breath and held it. She stopped cold.
    But the echoing footsteps continued behind her.
    She prayed it was only Mason, breaking his promise, but the sick churning in her gut told her otherwise. She spun around…and looked straight into the cold, malice-filled eyes of a stranger.
    Shit .
    Sara didn’t hesitate. She took off running, but being stuck in the middle of the alley, there was no way to evade the man’s grasp. His fingers bit into her arm after only a few strides. He slammed her against the cold concrete wall. The air left her lungs in a rush, and the man wedged his forearm under her chin before she could drag in another breath. He pressed his meaty body flush against hers, pinning her to the spot. A heartbeat later, she felt the unmistakable sensation of a pistol being thrust against her temple.
    “Baumgartner,” the man whispered in a thick guttural accent. “Where is the necklace?”
    Sara bit into her trembling lip.
    Crap . The Russians. She’d heard rumors they were in town. Not surprising. L’étoile was a hell of a target. It was sure to attract a lot of attention. If the Russians were here, that meant the South Africans couldn’t be too far behind.
    And apparently, they all knew that she was the one Malcolm had tapped for the job.
    Fantastic.
    Just one more complication to heap on the pile once she got out of here.
    If she got out, she amended. Because judging by the way the Russian was digging the muzzle of his weapon into her skull, he didn’t exactly seem like the understanding type.
    “I don’t have it,” she answered.
    “Wrong answer,” the man sneered.
    “You have a gun to my head. Why the hell would I lie to you?” Sara said. “Go ahead and check my pockets if you don’t believe me.”
    The pressure against her temple intensified. “Maybe I’ll shoot you first, then check your pockets.”
    Sara began to shake in earnest. She’d met her share of hired muscle. Bluffing wasn’t in their job description.
    Fortunately, it was in hers.
    “But if you do that, then you’ll never know where I stashed it,” she said.
    The man’s eyes narrowed. “You want me to believe that you double-crossed Van Zandt?”
    Sara nodded. “If you followed me here, then you already know that things didn’t end well between me and Malcolm. Why do you think he shot at me? Why do you think I ran?”
    “So, the man you were with is your partner,” the man said. “He has the necklace.”
    “No,” Sara said too quickly. She wasn’t about to let this guy go after Mason. “He isn’t involved in this.”
    The Russian wasn’t buying it. He pressed his arm harder against her throat.
    “Is he your fence?” he growled. “Does he have l’étoile now?”
    Sara struggled to deny it, but the man was too strong. He’d cut off her air to a trickle. Her head was already going fuzzy. She tried to fight, but with every gasp her body grew weaker.
    He didn’t need to put a bullet in her head to kill her. He could crush her windpipe in a heartbeat.
    “You’ve got it wrong,” a low voice said from behind her attacker. “I’m not the fence. I’m the protection.”
    The Russian dropped his arm from her throat as he turned toward the intruder.