Never Have an Outlaw's Baby (Deadly Pistols MC #3)(133)



She sat down at the edge of the big veiled bed where I'd f*cked her half a dozen times. My cock stirred, and it took all my mental willpower to slap him down while I got to the bottom of this.

“My uncle's a traditional man,” she said, reaching into her purse. After a second, she pulled out a little black book, not much thicker than my thumb. “He doesn't use tablets and phones to store his schedule. Less risky that way, I suppose. I managed to swipe this before he sent me up to my room – it's his planner for the next month. At least the stuff that's on the books. The rest is coded. I couldn't figure it out, but maybe you can. Catch.”

The little book flew through the air. I slapped it between both hands and opened it.

Shit. It was Gioulio Ligiotti's handwriting, all right. I knew it from seeing our intel before, a small crabbed script in English with the odd Italian word sprinkled throughout. The black book must've been about fifty pages long, everything laid out in a calendar grid. Pretty standard for the kinda scheduling book you'd find at the drugstore or whatever.

“Holy f*ck. You brought us gold, babe!” I tucked it in my pocket and walked over, hitting the bed next to her. “Christ. My brothers are gonna be so f*cking happy. They'll lay off my ass and yours. We'll be able to hit him soon without the choppy doubts we had before.”

“Better make it fast,” she said, a quirky smile on her lips. “He'll realize it's gone within a few days, or else his guys will.”

“Shit, you're right. We'll get cracking on it tonight. What about you?” My eyes rolled up and down her sweet body, trying to see past the heavy, ragged thing clinging to her shoulders. “What's this shit? Something you picked up on the street?”

Her lips pursed like she'd bitten something sour. “No. It's a family heirloom. Just happened to be in the room with me where I was staying. I needed something to stay warm, and it might be my last chance to get it out.”

Hm. The girl sounded sad. Her little fingers clung to the opening, where it looked like it was missing several oversized buttons. It was the sorta jacket well off chicks were drooling over like ten years ago, if memory served. I'd hiked up a few black and purple ones in the same style and f*cked the girls wearing them.

My cock jerked at the memories, but not half as hard as it lurched when I imagined doing the same thing here.

“Take that shit off. Or you want me to do it for you?”

She stiffened when I shifted, rolled on top of her, and pressed her into the mattress. She was soft and warm and sweet all over, calling me between her legs, begging me to f*ck her. My body needed to show her how damned happy I was to have her back in all the way words failed to do.

I smashed my lips on hers, hungry as hell. My dick hammered in my pants, beating its way out, howling to get inside her. If I could've kissed her 'til the universe went cold and collapsed in on itself, I would've.

I wanted to tongue her, bite her, leave my lips on hers 'til we were nothing but this beautiful f*cking kiss. But the primal lusts wouldn't let it be anything but a prelude to the insane storm whistling in my blood, bellowing to hold her down, rip her pants away, and f*ck her and f*ck her and f*ck her.

Fuck!

Something's wrong. I kissed her hard enough and she moaned, but it sounded more like real pain than just rough lust talking. I reared up, fisted her hair, and held her in a ferocious grip.

“What the f*ck happened out there, babe? What's wrong? Talk to me. I'm not gonna read your f*cking mind. Did he hurt you?”

My veins were about to explode and collapse. All this lust was churning with pure rage now, confusion and frustration. I'd never seen her look like this – not even when I held her here the first night after the big break.

“Uncle Gioulio told me some things,” she said, pulling away from my hand.

I had to let her go. It was either that or she'd tear out a huge clump of hair. Pissed, I darted up, stood over her, heartbeat thudding so damned hard I felt all the fresh bruises on my skin left by Lev and Daniel.

“What things? Don't tell me that piece of shit's got you all mixed up again. He's a manipulative f*cking snake, the worst kind this city's ever seen. What did he say?” I got up in her face, trying not to scream.

Christ. God f*cking damn it.

If that freak turned her against me, then I really had my work cut out. I was already gonna kill him the worst way I could, but this shit meant I had to think of something sicker, crueler, ten times more painful.

My hands landed on both her shoulders and shook her. A hot diamond tear drop slid down one of her beet red cheeks and she pinched her eyes shut.

“I can't help you if you don't f*cking talk to me, babe! Come on! What did that bastard say? Whatever shit he's been shoveling into your pretty head, it isn't true!”

She coughed, sputtered, started to struggle like she was really hurt just by having my hands on her. Fuck!

I ripped myself away from her, stumbling over a shoe lace that had come loose. I caught my balance, crossed the entire room, and kicked the chair next to her vanity. It went flying across the f*cking room and one leg smashed beneath the window.

Idiot.

Sabrina was bawling. This shit wasn't helping, but my anger and frustration was off the charts. When the waterworks stopped and she looked at me with open eyes, she stared at me like I'd killed her own mother.

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