Never Love An Outlaw (Deadly Pistols MC #1)(141)

“I'm not sure who's stupider,” he growled, pacing me like a lion. “You or the rat I should've killed in front of you before he took out my men. I'm human. I made my mistakes. I handed shit off I should've handled personally to lazy f*cks who took their sweet time. They cut their own throats and let you take off with him, you and that kid.”

He sneered when he talked about Jackie. My heart pulsed in triumph. I liked remembering she was somewhere he could never reach her.

“Cut the crap,” I snapped. “You want the video Brass is using to blackmail you and ruin your reputation with your guys, or what?”

He stopped pacing and gave me a hard look. “Of course. I just can't believe they'd send a cunt like you to negotiate.”

“I'm here on my own. A free agent. I went behind my man's back.” It was strange to tell the truth, and it twisted like a sharp knife in my heart. “I wasn't sure if he'd follow through for her.”

I motioned to Christa. “But I can guarantee he'll do it for me. He'll show up, hand it over. And if he doesn't, then I'll make the confession. I'll give you whatever you want on tape, tell you everything I know about how he forged it.”

Fang snorted, shaking his head. “And then what? You think I should just let this pretty red haired thing walk out of here alive so she can tell the cops? You think it's really that easy?”

“You really think she'll talk? I still haven't. I just wanted to take my sister and get on with my life. So does she. That's not something you'll have to worry about for a long, long time.”

He laughed. It was a low, grinding, evil sound.

“Man, you're one f*cked up girl. The only reason you never squawked is because your mouth is so full of rat dick you can't say shit. I'm really surprised about the kid, though.” He looked thoughtful. “Don't tell me she's sucking him off too? Seems a little young for that, but that junkie f*ck never sat right with me long before he turned rat. Can't put anything past him. Fuck, what I would've given to let him burn back in Montana with the other traitors...”

Fang showed his teeth. I wasn't scared, I was too busy being pissed instead.

Rage curdled my veins. I couldn't believe what he was saying – what he was accusing Brass of being.

It took everything I could manage not to throw myself at his face and gouge out his eyeballs with my fingernails. Fang stepped back, taking a good, long, leering look at me. I barely stopped the cold shiver dancing up my spine before it took over.

“Nothing to say to that?” He asked. “Smart girl. I give you a lucky little star for doing one thing right. As for the rest of this shit, coming here and thinking I'd give you a damned thing...”

He crossed the room to the middle, stopping behind Christa. In a flash, he pulled his knife from his belt, tugging her hair while he held it to her throat.

“No! You f*cking promised! Seventy-two hours aren't up. Me coming here shouldn't change that...”

He looked back at me and winked. The redhead groaned, shaking underneath his knife, her eyes spinning wildly. I could practically see her life flashing in the wide black pupils.

There was a long, tense moment where I thought he was going to do it. I thought he'd cut her throat, ruin everything I came here to do, driving me insane as a nice little bonus. I held my breath, all I could do to stop the anger from throwing me at him like a human bullet.

“You know what? Fuck it.” He stepped back, leaving Christa to fall back on her chair of misery. “It'll be a lot more fun dismembering this bitch in front of you. I'll be sure the Pussies and your old man get it all on tape. It'll be a sweet f*cking preview of what's coming to you if they don't get their asses here in – what? – we must be down to about fifty hours. Okay, whore. We'll stick to the original deadline. I'm a man of my word.”

Hot, angry, stale oxygen pumped in my lungs. I watched him give me a nasty grin and then grab the door, joining his men outside.

I walked over to Christa and held her until she stopped fretting. It took a long time. Feeling her calm and soften in my arms helped me keep time, a long count of minutes and hours. It was the longest I'd ever kept count in my head, keeping it going long past what had to be midnight.

Just hold on, Christa. Hold on. You'll be free before dawn, or I'll die trying.

I felt bad for slapping her. But it was all I could do to get her up, make sure she was able to stand. I made Christa walk back and forth, wall-to-wall, several times. If they'd f*cked up her legs some way, then everything would go to shit.

No, she could walk. The woman was just tired, dizzy, broken. I'd lead her out, slow and steady, as soon as I got the door open.

It was finally time. I pulled the locksmith kit out of my pocket, one of those cheap Houdini things. The thick storage door was definitely going to be tougher than the crappy little room they'd held me in, but I had to try.

It slid into the lock and sank deep. I twisted it, pressing on the handle, praying it wouldn't make too much noise and attract unwanted attention.

Christa watched behind me. Having her eyes on me was like feeling God watching, or maybe daddy eyeing me from above, desperate to see if I pulled this off.

Shit, shit. It was much harder than anything I expected. No matter how I pushed, jiggled, or swept it around in there, I couldn't seem to –