Never Have an Outlaw's Baby (Deadly Pistols MC #3)(106)
I reached across the table and grabbed her hand with both of mine. I held her, refusing to let go, lacing my fingers through hers and stroking up her arm.
“Don't worry about the mess. Housekeeping will take care of it. Look, I'm not saying this shit to hurt you, Sabrina. I'm trying to make you understand there's more to every story than what you read. I've done terrible things to terrible people. I don't regret a goddamned thing.”
She took a long, ragged breath. Her lips opened, like she wanted to say something, but she couldn't get it out. A fast moving tear swept down her red right cheek.
“I need you to help me because you're different, babe. Your * uncle knew that. It's why he kept you sheltered. If you were remotely like him and his crew, you wouldn't be crying over this shit. You'd be feeding me excuses.”
“I don't...I don't know what to believe,” she forced out.
I tightened my grip on her. “You will. Very soon. It's been a long morning for both of us, and yesterday was even longer. Come on. Lemme walk you back upstairs so you can get some rest.”
I wasn't gonna drop the rest on her when she was like this. That was for later. I had to chisel away every evil piece of Ligiotti bullshit left in her, everything Gioulio had hidden and twisted inside her.
She walked limply in my arms as we headed up the stairs, back to the big bedroom. I got her into the chamber and laid her on the bed, pulling off her shoes.
Two black heels with straps. Didn't know the girls in charge allowed her such luxuries. Didn't know she'd choose that kinda shit to wear around here either.
Maybe she was hoping to use them as a weapon – whack me in the head or take out an eye when I wasn't looking. Whatever the case, she wasn't gonna do a damned thing now.
I let her smash her face into the pillow while I stroked her back. Soon, her breathing grew slower, more normal, and I lightened my caresses.
It wasn't easy to walk away while she slept, but I f*cking had to.
This job was far from over. And if I'd stayed there another minute, I knew my dick would rip right through my pants and plunge into what she had underneath that sleek purple skirt, pulling me into her like a f*cking magnet.
I'd hurt her enough for one day. I did what I had to. The only screaming I wanted her to do was the kind she made when her mind was exploding with a good, deep f*ck.
God willing, we'd get there soon.
I headed for the gym. I needed some time to think, something to distract me from the lust boiling my blood. I walked into the spacious exercise room, stripped off my shirt, and went to work on the punching bag.
Everything Sabrina stirred up came ripping out in my punches. The ceiling rattled with my blows, angry and hot, filled with all the obligations and vows I had left to fulfill.
Too many promises were piled on my back. Heavy, heavy promises, one-ton obligations, ready to snap my f*cking spine like a brittle twig if I took a single step outta line.
Oaths to my family, oaths to my brothers, oaths of seething vengeance.
Vows to my flesh, my blood, my heart.
I had no guilt, despite the way I'd stolen her and blown apart the only world she'd ever known. Dealing with Gioulio and his boys was the first priority, yeah, but f*ck if I wasn't gonna make her whole.
If I could make her work with me, see me for the man I really was, then I'd remake everything she knew. I'd push my dick in that hot, wet space between her thighs, that pink slit I craved worse than freedom itself when I was behind bars. I'd f*cking brand her, own her, f*ck her 'til she opened her eyes and saw exactly what I wanted her to see.
This girl was gonna see the stone cold truth soon, the truth about me and everything else.
I hit the floor, sweating and shaking, totally spent. The black leather punching bag bobbed in the air, the impressions from my fists fading like evening shadows.
This was my chance to start over, living like a free man, and no f*cking way was I gonna squander it. I wouldn't let Sabrina waste a minute more of her life without a good man, hiding in the dark from her f*cked up family.
I couldn't make any promises about being good. But I sure as shit was the man she needed, and soon she'd see it, plain and pure as the sweat sliding down my chest.
5
Captive Trust (Sabrina)
I expected him to throw me down and f*ck me, leave me locked up, subject my body to the craziest tortures until I gave all three psychopaths what they wanted.
But the bomb he dropped on me that morning was worse than anything I could've imagined.
I trailed him limply to my room, slow and blasted like a zombie, my brain melting in my head.
The 'truth' he'd told me about the bombing at Club Duce defied everything I thought I knew. It was sick, wrong, insane – and just terrible enough to be true.
No, I wasn't ready to give in and believe him yet. But if I totally doubted what he'd said, I wouldn't have spent the evening cramped up in bed, feeling my stomach twisting in bows.
I used the intercom to hail the servants after a couple of hours. Thank God they actually came, an old woman with a thick accent carrying a silver tray. Toast, a carafe of mineral water, and lots of Pepto Bismol.
I was sick right down to my soul. I didn't know what to believe, didn't know where I was, didn't know what I'd really left behind anymore.