Never Have an Outlaw's Baby (Deadly Pistols MC #3)(105)
Another shake of the head. Another flick of that dark, smooth hair. Fuck, how good would it feel to just grab it while I shoved my cock between her legs? I'd hold on and rock her, pluck it like reigns, just short of ripping it out while we f*cked.
“If you want me to even consider a word you're saying, you'd better tell me what's going on.”
I folded my arms. “Not 'til you eat some more breakfast. Go on. I'll f*cking wait.”
She glared. At first, I didn't think it was gonna work. But then her small hands reached for more muffins in the center of the table and another orange. I watched and waited as she ate, sipping my coffee, trying not to admire the cleavage peeking through her top too close.
Grigor and his maids did a good job picking out her wardrobe. Shit, she was dressed a lot like the Latvian girls I'd f*cked a couple years ago, two dark haired, blue eyed chicks straight from the old world. They barely understood a word of English and even less Russian, but their cunts understood my dick pounding them to blubbering pieces. One of them tore stripes in my back when she clawed me, and a few warm streams of blood poured down my ass.
It was the roughest, craziest f*ck of my life. And I had a damned certain feeling it wasn't half as intense as what I'd feel unloading my balls inside the Italian girl playing bitch across from me.
Sabrina's fork clanged on the ceramic plate when she was done. She blotted her mouth dry and then looked at me.
“There. Is there anything else you'd like before you can trust me with an adult conversation, instead of treating me like some little girl you've got locked up in your tower?”
The poison on her tongue made me grin. “Babe, you're gonna stay locked up for a good long while. Even when I tell you the crazy f*cking truth, it's gonna take you time to chew on it. Digest it. But you'll turn on that f*cker. You'll help me kill your uncle. I know you will.”
She waited. I swore I heard her foot tapping on the tile underneath the table.
Impatient. I liked that.
All right. Enough f*cking around. It was time to let her know what really happened that night.
“It was an assassination, plain and simple. My brothers and I had enough intel to know how Gioulio ran these parties. Shit, he'd been doing them since your old man died and there was nobody left in the windy city to stand in his way. Drugs and guns are the bulk of this business. Always have been, always will be.
“But that shit's hard money. Your uncle wanted to diversify into something easier. Nothing like trafficking with some rich, well oiled *s to bring in a few easy million more.”
I watched her jump and squirm in her seat. Heard her swallow before she spoke.
“Trafficking? Like...women?”
I nodded. “Yeah. Seems like no matter where you go, powerful f*cks like to play devil when they're done pretending to be angels all day in front of the public. It's not all about the money either. By giving the high and mighty an outlet for their depraved desires, your uncle gave himself something sweet to hold over their f*cked up heads if this city ever gets a mayor who wants to go tough on crime. Probably part of the reason Ligiotti business has been smooth as ice since your old man died.
“Gioulio's got himself a stable of girls he keeps for his boys. Slaves who have to do anything and everything short of holding out their throats to get cut.
“Not that there's a helluva lot of difference sometimes. You should've seen what that banker, Wilkins, did to this Sicilian girl your uncle imported...left her bleeding and infected for weeks with the chunks he tore outta her with his teeth. Then there was that f*ck on the city council. Bastard liked to put out his stogies on fresh young skin. My boys told me the last chick he had needed plastic surgery after the f*cker was done with her. Gioulio charged his ass a hefty damage fee and an extra premium for the night I blew him straight to hell.
“Then there was that real estate mogul, Chuck Winston Mayhar. You know you're dealing with a bastard when a man flaunts three f*cking names. Too many business trips to Japan for that boy, where he got into some really sick stuff he saw in his comic books. He couldn't even get your uncle to say yes to half the twisted shit he wanted, but damn if he didn't keep trying. The boy picked this pretty little blonde from a shelter in Rome, had her shipped back here by Gioulio, and –“
She'd been reaching for the tea, and the half-empty cup crashed on the table. Sabrina was red in the face, bunched up like her seat turned into needles. She almost leaped halfway to the ceiling when the china smashed.
“Enough,” she said weakly. “You made your point. Please, I don't want to hear anything else.”
Fuck. I kinda felt bad for her. But only a little bit.
I'd done my f*cking job. I'd planted the seed of doubt by shining the bitter truth right in her eyes. And shit, that wasn't even half of it. I'd read the files my brothers collected before we put the bombing together.
Every one of those sick motherf*ckers was the kinda stomach turning shit no sane prostitute would ever do. All the money in the world wouldn't buy them what they needed to get off from any regular escort service. That's why they went to Gioulio, the magic man who could fulfill their depraved desires, all because the girls he pimped didn't have a choice.
I'd stopped trying to figure out why some dudes needed to torture and kill to get their nut. All I needed was right across the table, staring at me with huge, tormented eyes, and a * that would rocket me to heaven when I finally got it wrapped around my dick.