“If they didn’t have what? Finish what you were saying.”
At this point, Silas knows about eighty percent of the whole story. The part he doesn’t know is that Lorenzo has been holding my best childhood friend, Jordan Bain, in what he calls a secure location, to make sure I don’t run again. He threatened—no promised, because he can back up his threats with action—that if I didn’t go through with the wedding, he’d make sure Jordan would never be seen again. I couldn’t let that happen to him. We’ve been friends since childhood, were best friends in high school, and went to the same college. Jordan isn’t just anyone. He’s the closest thing I have to family. Up to the time of his kidnapping, he was the most predictable, dependable person in my life. I can’t let them wipe him off the face of the earth and make it like he never existed. Which is the reason I agreed to go through with the marriage to Lorenzo.
At the moment, there’s nothing Silas can do about my best friend, so why bother telling him? Sure, keeping secrets is my default setting. I’ve grown up shrouded by secrecy and silence. It’s the reason I carry around fake ID and won’t open up to just anyone. Silence keeps me alive because who I am is the thing that makes me a perpetual target.
I refuse to put Jordan in any worse danger, so I keep this last detail to myself. “Lorenzo’s dealings are no secret to me. I’ve known long before I met you. The truth is, I overheard the deal you were discussing with him and decided to stay out of the way. I didn’t want to know. I’m sure you can tell by now that he’s an arrogant, condescending, scheming, power-obsessed human being. And he’s ruthless too. I had a feeling things would go badly between the two of you, and I was already on my way to an event, so I left. Then I got shot with that stupid tranquilizer dart. We know how the rest of the story goes from there. Fill in the blanks. Better yet, just forget it, Silas. You’e smart to walk away now. It’s best for everyone.”
“We’re done talking,” he says, pounding his fist against the wall.
But he doesn’t leave. And I need a minute to clear my head. After that, I’ll pack a bag and do what I can to disappear. We’re both silent for what feels like forever. I can’t think past all the dots he must now be connecting.
Silas clears his throat and glances over at me. “We’re going back.”
Does this man have a death wish? Was he not listening to everything I’d just told him?
“But—”
“I don’t want to hear it. Just sit there, be quiet, and give me time to figure out a plan so it doesn’t look like I’m the one who kidnapped my client’s future wife.” Silas wraps up his order with a menacing glare.
“Fine.” I purse my lips, fighting down my temper with every bit of willpower I can find as I launch out of the chair to stand. But there isn’t much left.
I’m at the end of my rope and he’s still trying to control the situation.
To control me.
“No, you know what? That’s not fine. First of all, I don’t have to listen to you, or shut up and let the men think for me. You do know there are other things you can do for money that aren’t illegal, right? You don’t have to run guns for my father or for Lorenzo. Don’t give me that bullshit, don’t use me as an excuse to keep making bad choices, and don’t tell me to shut up!”
My voice reaches a high-pitched, deafening screech for the last half of the statement, and Silas reaches between us and puts his hand over my mouth.
“Stop talking!” he demands in a whisper. His muscular body covers me, and I become vividly aware of his radiating body heat. “Nothing I do is any your business, Sabrina. None of it.” He breathes the words like a threat, so close to my mouth his breath plays across my tear-streaked cheek, so close that we’re inches from a possible kiss.
I can’t look away from him, and raise my chin a fraction higher. The small gesture causes his jaw to harden, and he presses himself closer to me until we fit together like two missing pieces of a puzzle, even in the middle of our confrontation.
Chapter 20
Silas
I can’t keep my cool. I wasn’t ready to accept the fact that the blood-spattered, panic-stricken woman in front of me belongs to someone else. The logical part of my brain will get over it, but there’s another part that already owns her. And it’s the part that wants to punish her for lying, to fuck her and make her cry out my name. To claim her. To mark my territory so she’ll know in no uncertain terms that she belongs to me and me alone. That I owned her the second I saw her on that elevator.
I stop fighting my more primal urges when her shouting match is followed up by that confession about her arranged soon-to-be marriage, and more importantly, that she’s never been with Giovanni. We have way too strong a connection. For a second I forget about consequences and repercussions. I banish logic from my brain and go by gut instinct. It’s worked for me up to now. Taking her hand, I guide her to the bathroom and shut the door behind me. I stand at the fully encased, all glass walk-in shower, which surprisingly didn’t shatter into a million pieces. Despite her initial protest, I take off my clothes then shuck her shirt and start in on her pants.
A moment later she submits to me and the moment. The fire that burns in her eyes is only for me. That passion lights her up like a candle, and hell, I still want to be the only one who can ignite her flame.
“Get in,” my clipped words echo back to me.
Sabrina stumbles into the large space, and before I can make it inside the stall, she turns on the instantly hot water. It starts to cascade down from the ceiling nozzles, and fuck, the woman drops to her knees, taking my hard cock in her mouth. I all but lose my mind.
My hands tangle into in her hair, guiding her small, wet mouth around me. I rest my head back against the glass wall. Fuck, the contrast of sensation, the steaming hot water on my skin, her sexy mouth, it makes every muscle in my body go taut. My cock twitches in the slick cavern of her throat. We’re not soft or tender right now. We’re rough and rushed and rabid, both exerting a level of dominance over each other. Fuck, I can’t remember the last time I had angry sex, but Sabrina needs to know exactly who’s boss.
The next time she bobs up with her head, I use my leverage to pull her off of me. I swear at the lack of contact as cool air envelops my cock at first, but I have more satisfying ideas on my mind. Pulling her over to the marble bench within the shower enclosure, I turn her away from me, anchoring her hands against the bench so I can ride her at just the angle I want to.
She’s doubled over with her ass in the air and the spray hitting her back. She’s sexy as fuck. I do what I was meaning to do since we woke up early this morning. With no hesitation, I grip her hips and plunge into her tight pussy. Sabrina throws back her head, hissing out my name. I grab a thick handful of her long, light brown locks and ride her relentlessly. Her hips jerk backward, meeting me stroke for stroke. She arches into me, matching my energy and pace as her slick inner walls pulse along my erection. Quick, hard, and dirty, we use each other, taking each other for our own pleasure.
It feels like a battle as we claw our way to devilish heights. A fight to be that much closer. I wrench her back under my control, reaching around to circle my finger around the nub of her clit in quick, sharp circles as I pound her harder. She bucks backward with a loud cry that satisfies me and my ego. She’s lost to my hand and my cock, and I maneuver around some more to make her completely fall apart under my skilled hands. We’re both almost there so I’m merciless as I piston deeper inside of her.
“Jesus,” I mutter breathlessly through gritted teeth, wanting nothing more than to bury myself to the hilt until my seed coats her inner walls.
She cries out my name, and I raise my other hand from the flesh of her hip and bring it down on the spot in four loud slaps. Her legs all but give way and her body shakes as she cums. Then I follow, my muscles jerking as her tight cunt clamps around my shaft and draws out my orgasm. Sabrina whimpers through the intense waves of pleasure that continue to smash against us both for some time. She lo
oks over her shoulder and locks eyes with me, giving me a weak nod as though telling me it’s exactly what she wanted.
I groan at her small, seductive smile, and reached down to kissed a spot on her shoulder. She straightens up, turning to face me, then wraps her arms around my waist and rests her head on my chest. We say nothing under the hot stream of hot water.
As I stand there, I start to plan for my next move. Tate and Axe should be downstairs by now. Sabrina may not know it yet, but she’s my property now. And I protect what’s mine. It’s time to prepare for the fight of my life.
Chapter 21
Silas
Axe, Cole and Tate are here. While Sabrina packs a bag in her bedroom, I put Tate’s tech skills to work on sweeping the apartment and her phone for bugs. By the time he makes it through all the rooms, Tate has come up with a handful. He drops them into a small plastic case and tucks it into a drawer in the entryway console table. Cindy called it too while she was here earlier, which is why I kept my voice down. But that’s not enough. Whatever was said is already out there. It’s no surprise to me, given who her father is, but more so because of Giovanni. He’s exactly the type who’d get off watching and listening to Sabrina’s every move in her own private space without her knowing.
“Is everything else okay?” Sabrina calls from her bedroom. She comes out into the living room dressed in her black leggings and a blue striped button-down shirt. Her fashion sense isn’t enough to make me forget she’d lied to me about her family connections, but I can’t deny how fucking hot she looks. She’s probably right that if she came clean back when I met her on the elevator, I would have walked away with no second thought. The fact that her condo was being monitored means that whoever is after her saw me leaving with her, and for them, it wouldn’t be a stretch to believe she was at my clubhouse. The only question that’s still unanswered is if Giovanni or her father had something to do with both her attempted kidnapping and some connection to what happened at the clubhouse.
Did Sabrina already put two and two together?
If she did, she’s still not being forthcoming about it.
“We’re good here. It’s time to go.”
“All right. But, are you okay?” She takes a hesitant step forward.
“Never better. You’ve got some serious shit going on in your life, and now it’s on the MC’s doorstep, but I can handle it. Let’s go.”
I stop the conversation there, and head to the front door where my men are waiting, with Sabrina in tow. She’s coming along willingly, which probably doen’t sit well with her, but at this point, she must realize she doesn’t have a lot of options.
This time as we leave, we all take the stairs.
I toy with an unlit cigarette in the clubhouse meeting room the next day. All my brothers’ eyes are trained on me like a hawk now that I’ve just finished my debrief of the full story that is Sabrina Temple now Rizzo. Everyone has an opinion.
“Yeah, so this is way more complicated than I thought,” I add.
“No shit, Pres.” Tate pushes on the edge of the long table with his feet, leaning backward in his chair until the two front legs rise up in the air. “Is it ever simple when rich broads are in the picture?”
“True.”
Tate runs his hand over his bright blue Mohawk. “Well, now that we know the lay of the land, just let me know who I have to shoot, maim, or kill, and we’ll be golden.”
Cole jumps in next. “Let me get this straight. You want us to take on the entire Italian mafia under Rizzo. That’s almost as dumb as sticking your fucking nose where it didn’t belong in the first place.”
“And your hand…And your dick,” Axe says cynically, directing the comment at me with a smug smile I’d like to stomp off his face.
“Shut it, smartass.”
I slouch back in my chair, wondering what Sabrina is up to in the guest room. I have no intention of letting her stay in my room, although staying away from her now will be one of the hardest fucking things for me to do. Letting her addictive smell infuse into my room and my belongings is too much temptation. I can’t keep fooling myself. There’s no happy ending for us. I’ll consume her. If we’re not killed first.
Clearing my throat, I get back to business. “Anyone else have something to add? Speak now or…you know the fucking drill. And I need a few drinks so I can figure out this mess.”
I glance around the table at Cole, Tate, and Axe. Dean, the prospect, is out there tending bar while the sack demons pull their weight by helping to clean up some more from the explosion. There’s a lot left to do to make the clubhouse feel like home again. But it’ll take more than a cleanup team and a construction crew for that to happen.
Tate excuses himself and heads to the bar, returning a few minutes later with two bottles of whiskey, a stack of glasses, and an envelope. He passes me the envelope and one of the bottles.
“This is for you.”
My eyebrows narrow. “Thanks. What the fuck’s in the envelope?”
“No idea. Dean said someone dropped this off while we were gone. Apparently, we had an interesting visitor.”
“Does our visitor have a name?” I frown, turning the clean but creased envelope over in my hands. I don’t recognize the neat, cursive writing on it.
“Well, it was mostly just a hand, Pres. Some guy drove up in a limo and rolled down his window enough to give it to one of the officers working on his ride. He didn’t have time to ask the person who they were. By then, the limo was already rolling out. So no, not enough time to ask about the who, what, where, when, or why.”
“Fuck,” I grumble, shaking my head as I rip it open.
I read it once, then another time. Yes. We’re all royally fucked. Rubbing the side of my head, I fold the envelope and place the note face up on the table.
“Well?” Axe is the first to lean forward and pick up the note.
Without a word, I take a few long swigs of whiskey, slam down the bottle, then I lean back in my seat, waiting with steepled fingers as he reads.
“Fuck,” he mutters.
“Yeah. Shit’s about to go down. We need backup. Cole, start rounding up the other charters. See if any of them can make it here before tomorrow night.”
“Sure thing,” Cole replies without knowing what was going on. That’s my loyal, badass vice president. He follows orders first and asks questions later. That type of trust is hard to come by, especially at times like this when talking about shit takes too much fucking time.
“Thanks, bro.”
By now the letter’s making the rounds. After Tate reads it, he stares at it as if the sheet of paper will explode in his hands. It’s an invitation to meet Romano Rizzo. The Padrino. Sabrina’s father. Because he’s out of the country on business, the meeting is in two days. I’m most concerned about the part where he talks about wanting to discuss our mutual interests and threats to future dealings. The wording is subtle, but we all fucking know he’s talking about his daughter. The invite’s also only for me and my VP, but I sure as shit ain’t leaving anything open-ended. Someone this powerful won’t be showing up alone, and he isn’t the type to leave anything to chance when it comes to his business, let alone family.
I can only assume he thinks we have something to do with kidnapping his daughter. Which means we have to anticipate the worst. We’ll need to bring in with all the backup we can locate so if shit goes sideways, we’ll have enough guns watching our six.
“Cole. You’re good to make sure this is handled?”
“Yeah,” Cole answers. “I’ll have better numbers in two hours. Jenny can help Axe with the weapons for charter members coming from out of state. There might be a few smaller shipments that haven’t gone out yet. We can use those if we’re in a pinch.”
“Before you go, let’s talk about what to expect from Padrino.”
“Sure.” Cole stares at a picture on the wall behind Axe as he considers it. “Best case scenario, Padrino buys your story about saving her from the guys who
tried to take her. If he does, it can be as simple as we hand her over and he walks away. He might be planning an ambush to send a message, in which case, he won’t give two fucks about whether we’re the good guys or not. And worst case, we’ll walk into the start of an all-out war. What are you thinking?”
“About the same. I’m just curious to know if he had anything to do with the clubhouse getting bombed and Sabrina getting taken in the first place. I don’t see why he’d kidnap his own daughter, unless there’s something we’re missing. If it’s not him on both counts, we can push for continuing as allies. Offer to help him figure out who’s behind everything.”
“Assuming he’ll let us talk at all,” Axe points out.
I’m thinking the same thing. “Agreed.”
Outlaw (Satan's Saints MC) Page 11
