Home > Silas (West Bend Saints #2)

Silas (West Bend Saints #2)
Author: Sabrina Paige

Call me Robin Hood.

I’m a grifter.  A con artist.

I don’t just steal from the rich.   I take from the worst of the worst, the people who deserve to be hustled.

I have two rules - keep moving and never fall in love.

I only ever thought about breaking them for one boy.  And that boy just walked right back into my life, a ghost from the past.  Silas Saint.

Now he’s a man.  Arrogant and sexy as f**k, he’s sure as hell not the person I fell in love with, a lifetime ago.

But when he touches me, it’s enough to make me forget my own name.  He makes me want to break all my rules.

I’ve been fighting as long as I could remember.  Sh**, I think I came out of the womb swinging.  I even tried to go legit until trouble sent me out of Las Vegas and back to West Bend.

I never expected a different kind of trouble to come waltzing back into my life, all curves and tattoos and sass.  Tempest Wilde.

Any idea what “tempest” means?  A violent f**cking windstorm.  That’s s**t I don’t need.

I loved her once, a lifetime ago.  Before I knew better.

Love is for suckers, and I’m sure as hell not a sucker.

But the way she looks at me?  It makes me want to give her everything I have.

Copyright © 2014 by Sabrina Paige

Copyright © Cover Design by Cormar Covers

Cover Image by curaphotography/DepositPhotos.com

Interior graphics by alexvector/DepositPhotos.com

This book is a work of fiction.  Any similarity to real events, people, or places is entirely coincidental.  All rights reserved.  This book may not be reproduced or distributed in any format without the permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations used for review.

All quotations used in this book are part of public domain works and/or translated copies existing in public domain.  The author acknowledges the trademarked status of products referred to in this book.  Trademarks have been used without permission.

This book contains mature content, including graphic sex, language, and violence.  Please do not continue reading if you are under the age of 18 or if this type of content is disturbing to you.

The town of West Bend, Colorado does not exist.  It’s a fictional place inspired by a town that is meaningful to me.

Part One

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Part Two

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Part Three

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Epilogue

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For my darling Emma, always and forever.

For my husband, who knows that when I say I want a date night, it means I've written myself into a corner and need him to bail me out...and does it anyway.

For the authors and readers I've met along the way who have become dear friends, especially Jordan and Joanna.  I can't possibly express my gratitude for your support...and your willingness to tell me like it is.

For Sabrina’s Sirens.  You are the best and I am so thankful for your tireless efforts!

And, of course, for all of my readers.  When I wrote my first novel, I had no idea anyone would read it, let alone that I would write five novels!  It's because of your support and kindness that I'm blessed to be able to continue writing.

Thank you.

And, after all, what is a lie?  Tis but

The truth in masquerade.

~ Lord Byron, Don Juan, Canto XI

Tonight, I'm going to steal half a million dollars.

Well, let me qualify that.  I won't take possession of the money tonight - but tonight is when the magic happens.  It's when I seal the deal.  And steal isn't really the right word for it.  The man standing beside me, the one who's trying to impress me with every fiber of his scummy little being, is going to give it to me.  He's going to insist I take it from him.

He's going to thank me for the privilege of taking his money.

And then I'm going to walk away.

My crew will take a cut from the proceeds - split four ways - and the rest goes to the person who actually deserves it - this scumbag's victim.  Then we'll get the hell out of Vegas - separately, of course.  I've been here for a month anyway.  That's long enough, in my book.  I get restless.  I've always been a wanderer.

You have to be when you do what I do, when you were raised the way I was raised.

I'm a grifter.  A con artist.

A hustler.  A thief.

It sounds worse than it is.

People think they know what being a grifter means.  They think that grifters con little old ladies out of their life savings and take hard-working folks' retirements away from them.  They think I'm some kind of gold digger or black widow, marrying rich men for money and then waiting until they die to collect.

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