Outlaw (Satan's Saints MC)

by Bella Love-Wins

  “Shit, boss! Okay. I’m done. It won’t happen again.”

  “Good.” I release the guy’s balls and watch as he crumples to the gravel for a while. He gets up later, brushing off the desert dust and rearranging his groin area. Then he whistles to call out to one of the sack demons hanging around the front of the clubhouse. “Hey. Take your fine ass inside and grill up a couple of steaks for the Pres.”

  “No one knows exactly where Sabrina went with Cindy?” I ask, because the two of them together, away from this compound? That can’t end well.

  “They said that Cindy told someone inside they were going back to Sabrina’s condo to pick up a few things.”

  “Back to the condo…where she was tranqued?” Fuck. I should have been more specific.

  “This is the first I’m hearing that your girl was attacked.”

  I shake my head and run a dusty hand down my face. This has been forty-eight hours from hell. Fuck, I need a shower, but personal hygiene is at the end of a growing list. Talking to Vasquez is more crucial, but my gut wants to bump Sabrina to the top of the list. The problem is that right now, everything is a fucking priority.

  “Did Garcia give you another phone number for Vasquez?” I glance over at Tate again. He’s still groaning in pain. “Sorry about your balls, man.”

  “Yeah. I deserved it.”

  “Fucking right.”

  Tate’s face shifts into a twisted smirk. “Plus, I kind of enjoyed it. It’s been a while since they’ve been rearranged. That Dominican mistress I’ve been hitting up is booked solid lately—”

  “Okay. Stop talking. You need to keep that kinda shit to yourself. Tell me what information Garcia gave you. I have a number for Vasquez, but he’s not answering. I need to talk to him stat.”

  That sobers him up real quick. “I’ll break him soon. He already admitted the bombing wasn’t just for shits and giggles. It was a hired hit.”

  “Fuck.” I scrub my hands through my grit-coated hair, almost as angry about the confirmation as the fact that Tate took so fucking long to let me know.

  “That about sums it up.”

  “Did he say who hired them?”

  “No. He doesn’t know. Which is probably another fucking lie.”

  “Figure out a way to reach Vasquez,” I bark, heading back to my ride with a fist clenched and ready to punch something.

  “Will do, boss. And I’ll keep an eye on the place while you go find your girl.”

  “She’s not my girl.”

  “Sure, whatever you say.”

  “Get some eyes out here to keep watch. I’ll call with a status when I’m on my way back.”

  “Sure. No problem.”

  “And tell the men inside that next time Sabrina wants to leave the clubhouse, they’re to call me first.”

  “She’s under lock and key. Got it.”

  Rolling my shoulders to minimize the nervous tension in my neck, I head over to mount my bike again.

  I take the first few steps out of the main elevators onto the plush condo carpet at Sabrina’s place and squint my eyes to adjust to the indoor lighting as I take off my sunglasses. Whatever the women are up to, it won’t be roses. I sense high-stakes drama, possibly some hair-pulling, and God knows what else. There’s only one door on this floor before Sabrina’s apartment. Giovanni’s door.

  Something connects the detail in my brain. A memory flashes. I picture Sabrina during the tranquilizer incident, which loops on repeat in my head as though I’m supposed to remember something I missed during the melee. I don’t question the knot in my gut that tells me to fire off a text to Axe and Tate. It’ll take them a while to drive down here, but I can use the backup.

  I make it to her door and think about knocking, but quickly decide that’s not fucking happening.

  Sabrina’s screaming on the other side of this door. Thinking isn’t on the agenda anymore. I jack the door open wide, my heart thumping out of my chest. My eyes flick across the trashed living room. It’s a fucking disaster area. Pillows are shredded, magazines are on the floor, vases are broken. Her sofa is overturned among shards of glass and other debris.

  Then there’s another shrill scream down the hall, and my mother’s voice shouting and swearing over the shrieks. My instincts are ratcheted up. I’ll use lethal force if necessary.

  No one touches what’s mine.

  Chapter 18

  Sabrina

  I just walked into an ambush with Cindy at my side.

  I wrench my forearm out of the stranger’s grip and stomp down hard on his boot. He’s howling in pain, but his hand won’t release my waist.

  “Stop moving!” The man keeps shouting, and every time I pull away, he drags me back into his grip, brandishing a hypodermic needle filled with unknown liquid. I’m not going to stop moving long enough for him to dispense whatever’s in that needle into my veins. He’ll have to knock me out the old-fashioned way.

  After shooting a quick glance over at Cindy, I feel more confident. She’s holding her own, taking on the three other thugs in black suits who look like FBI rejects. They barged across the hallway to my condo unit just seconds after Cindy got inside the front door, shoving us inside. The bastards must have been staking out the place all this time.

  The guy after me tightens around my waist from behind me and hauls me up off the ground. I can only use my arms and legs. As I pound on the top of his head, I stretch out one leg to the push against wall outside the bathroom, pivoting sharply. It sends him off balance, and he stumbles right into the sofa, flipping it on its back, with me landing on top of him. But shit, he’s still holding on to that needle. I thought for sure it would break.

  Hoping to make it to my bedroom, I scamper away. This man is persistent. As I run down the hall, he catches me again and picks me up in the same hold. Thankfully, the force of his move causes him to overreach, and the two extra steps he takes to correct himself lands us squarely in the open bathroom door. I have something to work with. We’re in a confined space with walls and random items to use as leverage and weapons, and his syringe-waving hand will be close enough for me to reach. Getting that tranquilizer out of the equation is my first priority, so I’m relieved as I swat the thing out of his hand. The needle breaks as it hits the granite floor. By the expression on his face, he wasn’t expecting me to manage that move.

  Well, he’s going to love this one. My attacker regains his balance, but with my back pressed against his chest, I tilt my head forward then swiftly head-butt backward, crashing my skull into his nose and forehead. His howl of pain gives me bone-deep satisfaction. The rush of energy helps too. He cups his nose with one hand to stop the blood from gushing down his face. There we go. That’s when I wrench my body out of his grasp. Refusing to let him have a second to recover, I knee him in the groin next, and shove him hard toward my bathtub. The audible thump sound is his back and head hitting porcelain. It echoes through the space, and he lets out a groan, then his eyes droop, and finally, his body slumps sideways.

  He’ll be out for a while.

  One down.

  I’m not done yet, though. Three goons are still crowding Cindy. She defends herself rather well until one of them pulls out a gun as I step out of the bathroom doorway.

  “Shit,” I breathe out, and stop in my tracks.

  Cindy pivots to face her attacker, who presses the weapon to the center of her forehead.

  “Enough!” The gun-toting prick shouts. “You bitches need to shut up and stay put, or I’ll take you out one by one.” He glances my way, meeting my narrowed gaze with one of his own. He’s not bluffing, and I’ve seen enough to know from the half-crazed yet disciplined expression on his face. This man has to be ex-military, but his threat confuses me. Most most of the people who come after me are under orders not to kill me. Mind you, my father has more enemies than I care to know about. Maybe it’s not who I first thought it was.

  “I only need you alive,” he says to me. “Not this other crazy bitch. And no one sa
id anything about flesh wounds. If you don’t want your friend’s brains blown out all over the walls, start cooperating.”

  Without a word, I nod blankly and throw up my hands. I’m out of options, as I don’t want anyone getting hurt. Silas will never forgive me if his mother is shot and killed because of me. “Okay, I’m cooperating, see? Please, move the gun away from her face.”

  A painful groan comes from the bathtub behind me. The guy I took out is already starting to recover.

  “You don’t give me orders, princess,” the big brute with the gun shouts. To prove his point, he takes off the safety and shoves the weapon harder into Cindy’s forehead, pushing her back a step.

  I swallow hard, fingers curling into aching, helpless fists. “What the hell do you want from me?” My voice only shakes a little bit, and my spine straightens a bit more because of it, hoping he won’t confuse it for weakness.

  “Sit in the corner. My friend here is going to make sure your wrists are nice and tied up, understand?”

  “Okay,” I tell him calmly, and cross my legs as I lower to the ground.

  “Good, now keep your mouth shut.”

  Cindy starts to ask a question, and a loud smack rings out when the man’s open palm whips across her cheek. I can’t keep my panic in check now. Words tumble out of my mouth, but none of them make any sense. Another man snatches me by the hair and one hand until I’m forced to stand again. I let out a surprised scream from the way he nearly wrenches my arm out of its socket long after I got to my feet.

  Then the front door creaks. I go from staring into the eyes of this violent prick to smashing my eyes shut in reaction to the blood splattering across my face, hot and thick. The guy with the gun crumples to the floor.

  “Shit!”

  I jump back a few feet, tripping on the bathroom rug. In my effort not to hit the porcelain tub or granite floor, I over-correct and spill forward onto my stomach, across the unconscious form of the man with the gun, who now has a knife stuck in his side.

  Then I see Silas.

  I’m still processing the idea that he threw that knife across the room from all the way over at the front door when he takes on the other man closest to him, tackling him to the floor. Cindy moves into high gear with the last man standing. She swivels around and knees the man directly in the balls as if she has eyes on the back of her head. The thug in a cheap suit drops to the floor, and Silas sends him to la la land with a kick in the head. He charges past me and stops in front of the guy waking up in the tub, smashing fist after fist to his face. When this last attacker passes out again, Silas drags him out of the bathroom, across the living room and over to the other attackers.

  They’re passed-out heaps of bloodied polyester suits, but at least they’re still alive—barely. I don’t understand why these guys came with guns and were ready to use it. It can be anyone, really.

  Crap.

  This condo used to be a safe place to be, even if it’s a virtual prison. I’ll never look at it the same way again. Jesus, I won’t be able to sleep at night here again. A tiny sob squeezes past my throat. Hot, stinging tears push at the backs of my eyelids. Now isn’t the time for a freak-out, but that’s what happens when waves of shock roll in after the adrenaline stops pumping. I’ll never get used to the fact that someone wants me and is willing to kill others to make it happen.

  “What the fuck were you thinking, coming back here?” Silas makes his way to me from the far side of the room. He’s angry. A vein is pulsing at the side of his neck and another at the center of his forehead. “You know what? Never mind,” he grumbles before I can answer. “Do you have a storage room or any space in here that locks from the outside?” He asks me.

  “No. Well, the balcony, I guess.”

  “That’ll do.” One by one, he hauls the men out. Once he’s done, he locks the sliding glass door. “We need to leave,” he says, wiping sweat and smeared blood from his brow. “There may be more of these special agent rejects on the way.”

  I run into my room to grab a couple of things. I refuse to go back to the clubhouse, but I’ll accept their help to make it out of this place and make my getaway once I’m outside. My bedroom door is open, and although her voice is low, Cindy doesn’t give a fuck that I can hear her as she argues with Silas.

  “That tart caused all of this mess,” she says in a rough whisper. “Do you understand me? She’s not some cute, helpless girl off the street, baby. She’s not Sabrina Temple like her fake ass driver’s license says. She’s Sabrina Rizzo. The Italian mafia. It took me a while to figure it out, but this girl is the Padrino’s daughter. Do you understand me? She’s Romano Rizzo’s daughter. Our most important client. Do you see what that could mean for us? We’re neck deep in shit because you can’t keep your hero hair off for one damn day. But wait, there’s more she forgot to tell you!”

  Words escape me.

  I can’t accuse her of lying.

  It’s true.

  I wince as I try to block out the damage my lies and omissions caused. And Cindy looks like she’s ready to spill out the rest too. My secrets are all about to come out in the open. I should have known that she’d take pleasure in ripping off the huge Band-Aid from her son’s naivety. Silas all but forgets his urgent caution that we need to leave my condo. He stands there with a stunned expression, eyes vacant, and I have to turn away. I can’t look at him now that his mother’s about to unveil the rest.

  Almost literally.

  Chapter 19

  Sabrina

  “This little mafia princess is engaged to Lorenzo Giovanni. Our new client!” Cindy sounds like she’s trying her best not to speak at a normal volume, and her rage-filled tone of voice tell me that she’d prefer to scream it at the top of her lungs. She waits for a moment as if she expects Silas to answer. He doesn’t say a word. “She didn’t tell you about that when you helped her out that night, did she? This whole deal has gone to shit. I don’t know who wants her so badly that they’re willing to throw this much manpower into the operation, but whatever their motive, we don’t need any part of it. You brought her into our world, and you’re gonna get her right back out of our lives. My vote is we leave her right here. Let her mob boss daddy save her next time. Or Giovanni. And you’ve got a screw loose if you think I’ll support any hair-brained decision of yours to bring her back to our place. She not your responsibility. Anyway, I’m done. I’m out. Make sure you keep her the hell away from our people.”

  Silas doesn’t reply, and to be honest, I’m tired of hiding out in my bedroom. I shut my eyes tight as if it’ll help. It won’t. Time to face the music. I return to the living room to see Cindy heading out the front door of my condo, leaving Silas leaning against a wall.

  He lifts his head and locks eyes with me. “She’s right,” he whispers when I’m within earshot, and I wonder what is it about him and his mother that they refuse to raise their voices here. “You’re not our problem.” Those blue eyes are ice cold all the way to their depths now, and his throat works around a harsh swallow. “If there’s one thing I don’t tolerate, it’s lying. I gave you enough opportunity to tell me the truth. You practically lured my mother here to face what? For four hired hands to rough her up and pistol whip her? I don’t appreciate that you’ve put me and mine in the crossfire of your domestic dispute. This has to be some kind of game for you, but your old man and your husband-to-be are people I depend on for my livelihood.”

  I can’t argue with him. He’s right.

  “I should have let these thugs have you,” he continues in a low voice that’s starting to really frustrate me. I want him to scream. I want him to be true to the anger on his face. “Do you realize what your old man will do to me when he finds out I messed with his daughter? An engaged woman? You can’t imagine what kind of turf war that can create for my club, can you? It’s because you’re too damn secretive and fucking selfish…”

  “Don’t put that on me. I begged you to bring me back here. All I’ve been asking is for you to tak
e me home. Or just let me leave. Why did you think that was? Instead, you kept up your crusade to lock me up like a prisoner at your beck and call! I’ve been treated like a captive for my whole life, under my father’s thumb. I won’t do it anymore.”

  “Just stop right there. If you’d told me who the fuck you were, I’d never have gotten involved, okay?” The way Silas spits out the words hurts like hell. “And did you forget you’re engaged? You have a fucking fiancé, Sabrina. What about that information?”

  “Oh, you think that was my choice too?” I shout.

  “Keep your voice down. Listen. You let me fuck you…and you’re engaged?”

  “I haven’t been with Lorenzo. Or does that even matter to you?” He doesn’t answer. “Wait…you really think that I’d be that conniving or manipulative? That I’d intentionally sleep with you, and feel what I felt, despite the fact that I’m supposed to be engaged to one of the most powerful men affiliated with my father?”

  “Are you?”

  “If you think I planned on jumping into bed with you, or what happened between us, then you have a much bigger problem than I thought. Get the hell over yourself. I don’t believe you can be so damn naive.” I take a seat in the nearest chair that’s still upright, taking a shaky breath as I lift my feet up onto the cushion and grip my knees to stop them and the rest of my body from trembling out of sheer rage. “None of this was my choice, from start to finish. I didn’t agree to the engagement. I didn’t seek you out. I didn’t plan on sleeping with you. I’m not one of the wildcats who hang around your club, either. Blame me if you want, but you’re not some innocent bystander. You can’t make me forget that you just did an illegal arms deal with Lorenzo!”

  “You knew about my business with Giovanni? You’ve known all along?” The questioning in his voice pierces through my rage.

  This behavior isn’t like me at all, and it’s getting us nowhere. “Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I really had no idea who you were when we met on that elevator. When I woke up on your bike, that put my guard up, and I figured out the rest when I saw the briefcase. My father and his men have kept me so far under lock and key that they didn’t think twice about sticking me here to live next door to Lorenzo. Everyone wants me for something. My father’s enemies see me as bait, or as a bargaining chip. To Lorenzo, I’m leverage. Marrying me is just a stepping stone. It solidifies his place as one of my father’s key allies so he can extend his power and reach, and maybe he wants to worm his way in to have better positioning for extra territory when my father eventually dies. Nothing more. Anything he feels for me, or thinks he feels for me, or says out loud for the world to hear, it’s because to him, I’m a possession. And trust me, I’ve done my fair share of trying to escape it all. I’ve run off more times than I care to admit, and I’ve fought off guys worse than the ones who showed up today and the ones who darted me. These guys were child’s play. They just happened to catch me off guard, but if they didn’t have my—” I pause, forcing myself not to add to the problem.