Never Have an Outlaw's Baby (Deadly Pistols MC #3)(104)

“I trust that's the old attitude talking, the one you developed wearing orange. I get it. Going behind bars makes a man angry and a little crazy.”

I growled, giving my brother the evilest eye I'd produced in my whole f*cking life. “Shut up. Do what I say. Leave her to me.”

“We will, brother. We will. I just wanted her to know how lucky she is being here.”

Before I could grab him by the neck and throw him against the wall, he was on his way out. Lev was smart enough to keep his distance, heading for the door with the table between us.

He looked at Sabrina. “Remember what we discussed, love. You do everything Anton says. Everything we ask. That's the price for keeping you alive and breathing. Any other Ligiotti would've gotten their head popped and dumped in the nearest ditch on our way home after breaking out Anton.”

She shook once. No fear, but rage. The door shut and he was gone.

Fucking *s. It was in their nature. I didn't expect anything different – especially because they sure as shit didn't have the same weird connection with this chick I did. But f*ck, sworn enemy or not, when did my brothers forget how to treat a woman with basic civility?

When did I?

Obviously when we looked at her. Their blood roared with hate, venom, vengeance. Mine stormed pure lust, a barbaric need to f*ck her, more than I wanted her uncle dead.

I walked to the other side of the table and sat down with her, still pondering that shit. I tapped the table several times with my fingers 'til she took her face outta her hands.

“Look at me, Sabrina. We've got shit to discuss. Before we do that, I wanna give you a chance to eat to your satisfaction.”

“I'm not hungry,” she snapped.

“I don't give a f*ck. You're gonna keep up your strength because we both have jobs to do. Pick something up off that table and take it bite-by-bite. I don't wanna have to force anything down your throat.”

Bullshit. There was one thing I wanted to force through her lips more than anything else. Cold, stoic war crept back in my heart, but it hadn't turned me to total ice. I wasn't so far gone I'd throw the food off this table if she disobeyed, throw her down flat, and f*ck her right there.

No. Not yet.

“Do it for me, babe. Do it for yourself. Let's go. I want you talking to me with a full stomach. You'll be way more pissed and irrational if your belly's running on empty.”

She stared at me for a good long while with the same hateful eyes she'd aimed at my brothers. Finally, she moved her hand to the plate, took the muffin, and chewed an angry bite outta it. I would've laughed if she wasn't seeing red and I didn't have a deadly serious mission here.

“I overslept,” I said, watching as she swallowed and took another bite. Good. “If I'd been down here on time, I wouldn't have let them get away with that disrespect. They give you any trouble in the future, Sabrina, you let me know. Promise me.”

My fists tightened, and I leaned forward on the table. She set her half eaten breakfast down and took a gulp of tea before answering. “Why bother? Stop acting like you're here to do me any favors. I know a good cop, bad cop thing when I see one. It's how you tricked me to come back for that followup.”

Fuck. The girl was smarter than I'd given her credit for, at least in hindsight.

“Fine. You wanna play rough instead of treating this like a civilized business arrangement, I can do that.”

She snorted. “Civilized? I don't think violating at least ten Federal laws and keeping me hostage fits the definition. Neither does blowing up my uncle's nightclub downtown and killing twenty well respected men.”

It was my turn to laugh, letting the derision roll out. Incredible. She still had no clue – no f*cking idea – what I'd really done.

“Come on, babe. You wanna be a part of the media, I get it. Just thought you'd know by now half the stuff you read about's pure bullshit.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What? Are you going to tell me the bombing didn't happen and it wasn't you? I never figured you for the tinfoil hat type.”

“No. I didn't tell you a single lie during our other talks, except for the fact that my Uncle Volodya's place wasn't really called the Red Eagle, and he never died on a Wednesday. That was code for Lev and Daniel to break me out.” I paused, reached over to the coffee pot, and poured myself a tall mug. “I blew that f*cking place to kingdom come, and the only regret I've got about it is not having your * uncle there to die with the rest of those freaks.”

She shook her head. “Great. So you admit you're a killer.”

“Admit it?” I blinked. “I've never denied that shit once. I own the f*ckers I kill. What you don't get is that every * I'd knifed or burned or shot has always had it coming. You really don't know shit about the underside of your family's business, do you? If you did, you'd know the guests Gioulio has at his parties are some of the most sadistic, twisted motherf*ckers in the entire city.”

She looked at me like I'd just spat out a tall f*cking tale. Okay, maybe I had, but this one was all true.

“What are you talking about? Don't tell me this is some kinda Eyes Wide Shut crap. You killed them in cold blood. All because my uncle was your target.”

“No. I wanted to make sure I killed all those f*cks. I just missed a couple when Gioulio and his guards didn't show up on schedule. You're missing the point – none of them were collateral damage. All twenty of those *s deserved to be executed. You don't know them. I do.”