Never Have an Outlaw's Baby: Deadly Pistols MC Romance (Outlaw Love)

“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 fuck 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 fucker 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 fucking 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 fucking 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 motherfuckers 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.

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 asshole 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 fucking 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 fucking 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 fuck.

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 fucking 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.