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

by Snow, Nicole

  “This is the best way to kill them. The Ivankovs won't be able to resist a drink if they think you've got me by the balls.” He pushed it into my outstretched hands.

  The glass was cool. The transparent stuff inside it sloshed around like any other vodka I'd seen, clear and unassuming.

  “One little drop of that and they won't know what hit 'em. It's a kinder, swifter death than the bastards ever gave Gio and Allison. It'll do the job just the same.”

  My fingers tightened around it, full of evil wonder. I carefully pushed it into my purse, making sure it found a safe spot.

  “You'll always be a Ligiotti, niece. You can hate me until your last breath, and I won't blame you, but you know blood and heartache, just as I do. Take it. Slip it to them carefully. Cut the chains that'll try to hold you here forever. Avenge them the way I couldn't.”

  I couldn't stop him from embracing me one more time. There wasn't a hint of warmth and I almost shivered in his arms. When I pulled away, Uncle Gioulio was still looking at me with those sad, knowing eyes, a thousand thanks whirling in his dark pupils.

  We'd never be family again in the proper sense, but we had ourselves an understanding.

  I spent another twenty minutes with him and his guys, talking about the logistics of how I'd get back to the Ivankov's estate without drawing suspicion. He gave me a tattered white coat – the same rumpled one that belonged to mama the night she was struck down – and I was on my way.

  Anton tricked me, used me, sent me to sabotage my uncle for nothing but his own disgusting gain. His poison was love and lust, and now it mutated in my veins, becoming as bitter and intoxicating as the toxin stowed in my bag.

  I was returning to him as a weapon. I'd deceive him the same way he wrecked me with his lies.

  It was time for the bastard to pay.

  8

  Disconnect (Anton)

  It was nine o'clock. Second day since my girl went missing, and I was ready to wring Daniel's neck for the dozenth time.

  The fucking bug hadn't lived up to expectations. Sabrina and Gioulio's voices were garbed, and the last thing we heard before it went dead was crashing and arguing. Fuck.

  “Back off, Anton. Don't make me hit you again brother,” Lev growled, putting up his fists in warning.

  Asshole. We were roughly the same strength, but he wasn't fighting for her the way I was. Fuck, Daniel was pretty strong too, especially when he knew he'd be fighting for his own life if we didn't find out what the hell happened – and soon.

  “Shut the fuck up! This is his fault, and you know it. You're a cocksucker for protecting him.” I stormed to the other side of the great hall, pacing from end to end like a caged tiger.

  “You're not in your right mind, brat. That bitch got underneath your skin. Fuck, for all we know, she was playing you the whole time. You let her go, she dumped the bug, and now she's probably given us up to the fucking Italians.”

  That did it. I spun, came pounding right at him. Our bodies slammed together like colliding trains and Daniel was dragged into the melee.

  Too bad we'd all gotten that Ivankov gene for big muscles and fists of fury. Two against one. I didn't have a chance, but I fought like a goddamned devil.

  All I knew was the sweet crunch of my knuckles slapping flesh and bone. I swung, kicked, and thrashed 'til my arms went numb, same as I always did in a brawl like this. Except it never got that far.

  Daniel got a choke hold not long after I pounded his face, hard enough to leave a black eye. Lev tackled me while I was struggling to get my brother's arm off my throat. He slammed both fists into my stomach. The wind was right outta me like a ton of bricks landing on my chest.

  I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Daniel maintained his death lock, leaned down, and whispered in my ear.

  “Don't make us knock you unconscious, brother. Calm the fuck down. Stop taking this all so personally. She could've done it to anybody.”

  Damn if I didn't start struggling again with what little energy my body had left.

  Sabrina hadn't stabbed me in the back – I wouldn't fucking believe it! There were a thousand reasons why that goddamned spy chip he put on her could've went dead, and these assholes were fixated on only one. Betrayal.

  “Come on, Anton. Knock it the fuck off. We need you to save that shit for later if the Ligiotti's goons come storming in here.”

  “They won't!” I snarled, feeling my ribs creak when I spoke. “Your heads are so far up your asses you'd think your own guts were trying to strangle you. There's nobody coming. We're the fuckups for laying here like rats while they've taken her, taken my girl.”

  “Your girl?” Lev wiped his bloody nose. “Prison fucked you up, brother. Dunno why the hell you can't see it. You went head over heels for the first piece of pussy that landed in your bed, and she fucked you over. You should've let us handle her.”

  My fists slapped the floor. I fought like hell to get up and bust his fucking jaw for saying that, but Daniel held me down, giving the back of my skull a good crack against the hard floor.

  “None of us are thinking rationally. That goes for you too, Lev.” He looked up, as if trying to smooth shit over. “What we need here is patience. We've got to buckle down and wait instead of tearing each other to pieces, dammit. Just wait, brothers. The crew we sent out to the city will tell us something soon.”

  Bastard. Always the voice of reason, even when I'd just come within a hair trigger of fracturing his damned eye socket. My fists were still seething, ready to beat and blind and kill, when he finally let me up.

  Breathing without his fat arm around my throat was amazing. But it still wouldn't come easy, not even twenty minutes later when I sat in the chair, rolling out the latest knots in my arm with the table's edge. I'd never breathe easy 'til she was back in these arms, safe and fucking sound.

  She shouldn't have gone out with nothing more than a secret bug and a burner phone. And I was the asshole who sent her, the fuck who'd let my brothers get away with this bullshit compromise, tracking her like a goddamned animal.

  All three of us eyed each other like hungry wolves hovering over a lone rabbit.

  A knock at the door shattered the tense silence. I was the first one up, beating my brothers to the big door.

  It swung open, revealing old Grigor in his prim suit. I nearly bowled him over heading for the small, broken looking thing behind him.

  “She just showed up on our doorstep,” I heard him say, and then I stopped listening to anything at all.

  “Sabrina!” Her name bounced off the high ceiling as I scooped her up, threw my arms around her, and crushed her in my embrace.

  Shit. She'd appeared outta the darkness right when I needed her like an honest-to-fuck angel. I squeezed her tight, forcing myself to understand she was real, wondering why the hell she wasn't grabbing me back.

  “Damn it, babe, I thought you were a goner. What happened? They didn't hurt you?”

  “I got away,” she said coldly. “Uncle Gioulio welcomed me back at first, but he started to get suspicious pretty fast. He kept me in a room at his house, posted guards outside. I managed to sneak out, hail a taxi. Here I am.”

  She pulled away. Too cold, too tired, too defeated for my liking. Hearing her say that shit was like listening to a dull recording.

  What the fuck's going on here? And where the hell did she get that mangled, ugly ass coat?

  My eyes slid up and down the weird thing draped around her shoulders. It was an overstuffed winter coat that looked like it'd seen better days. I didn't like looking at it, and not just because it covered up that bitching body my cock was starting to pine for all over again. It was jagged, dirty, one shoulder coming apart at the seams.

  “Babe.” She flinched when I reached out and grabbed her chin.

  My fingers dug in harder. I forced her to look at me, all while the voices behind me went dead silent. My brothers were watching the scene with Grigor.

  Lev approached, fists balled at his sides. “You
'd better sit her down. Make her start talking. If this bitch has betrayed us...”

  I spun, dragging poor Sabrina with me. He stopped mid-sentence. Our cold eyes met, and he was the first to break, looking away with a loud snort.

  That's right. Brother or not, I promised another beating if one more word came outta his mouth. And this time, they'd have to put me in a fucking coma to stop my fists.

  “She's mine. I'll do the debriefing. Neither of you fucks is patient enough to do it right.”

  Patience. Motherfucking patience. I threw Daniel's word back at them and took off, leaving my brothers standing with our old head servant at the base of the stairs.

  “My room. Let's go.” Sabrina moved on a little ahead of me.

  I watched her walk for telltale signs of pain, injury. Nothing. Her footsteps were slow, almost reluctant, and I couldn't figure out why.

  Great. Not only did I have my brothers to shut up, I needed to dig the truth outta her. I made a promise right there that anybody who did her the least harm was gonna fucking suffer.

  Soon as she was in the room, I slammed the door behind me. “Babe, what's going on? We're home. You can tell me without worrying about their ears on us.”

  She sat down at the edge of the big veiled bed where I'd fucked 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 fuck. 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 fucking 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 fucked 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 fuck 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 fucking 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 fuck her and fuck her and fuck 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 fuck happened out there, babe? What's wrong? Talk to me. I'm not gonna read your fucking 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 fucking 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 fucking 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 fucking 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 fucking 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.

  What. The. Fuck.

  “Just...just give me a minute. We need to have a drink,” she sighed. “I'll calm down after that. We'll talk.”

  Fine. I'd play along, though the thought of pouring liquor down my throat right now was like dumping fuel on a roaring fire.

  I marched to the cabinet and opened it. Grabbed two shot glasses and the finest vodka in there. When I got back to the bed, Sabrina was holding a little bottle in one hand, looking at it.

  “What's this?” I ripped it outta her hands before she could protest.

  No label. I opened the cap and sniffed. Didn't smell like any fine stuff I'd ever known. It was almost slightly sour, vinegary.

  “Something else I swiped from the house – an ancient family recipe. We only bring it out on special occasions, and I think this qualifies. Let's have a little, maybe mix it with the other stuff.” She pointed at the big bottle I was still holding.

  I nodded. “I like your thinking. Hope to fuck whatever's got you in knots is good news.”

  Honestly, the stuff in the little bottle smelled like shit. I'd down it to humor her – whatever made this chick feel better. I'd do anything to pry the stone cold truth outta her.

  I walked everything over to the small stand next to the bed. Poured out two tall shots with just a splash of the shit she'd brought on top. If it tasted as shitty as it smelled, dousing it in the good stuff would drown out the crap.

  Sabrina had both he
r hands clenched tight in her lap when I came back with our drinks. I passed her the shot glass and raised mine.

  “To better times, babe. They're coming. Sure as you uncle's bones are going into the fucking ground.”

  I was about to knock the shit back when she reached for my thigh. Her fingernails pinched so hard into my skin it was like a goddamned miniature bear trap. The surprise almost caused me to drop the shit on the floor.

  “What the fuck?” I growled.

  “Wait. Not yet. There's something I need to know before we do this...something Uncle Gioulio told me. Don't drink yet.”

  I looked at her without saying shit. The girl was rattled, couldn't make up her damned mind. Long as she started talking, I'd let her. Maybe the horse piss in my glass would taste an iota better when she threw off whatever was on her chest.

  “You keep looking at my coat. It's more than a family heirloom.” She looked down, staring at the crap in her own glass, giving it a little stir, collecting her words. “My Uncle showed me some pictures. It was from the night my mother died. She got run over – somebody flattened her to the ground. Until the other night, he let me think it was an accident, even though I suspected something more all along. He showed me the man who ran her down and killed her in cold blood.”

  Oh, fuck. My mind started spinning a million miles an hour, ready to split right through my skull and launch to the fucking moon. I knew who she was gonna name before it was outta her wicked fucking mouth.

  “It was your father, Boris Ivankov. Don't deny it wasn't,” she said coldly. “Uncle showed me the pictures. He...he had your eyes. I know Gioulio wasn't lying about this.”

  She looked at me like my baby blues were gonna turn her to stone. Fuck!

  I turned away in disgust, throwing my shot glass on the floor. It shattered and sent a million little shards in all directions. I wished like hell that sound was enough to wring the neck of whatever demon fate cooked up in our pasts to fuck up our present.