Tate puts the letter on the table and leans forward. “And then there’s the bugs planted in his daughter’s place. If he knew about them, well first, he’s a sick fuck for listening in on his own kid like that, but more important than that is he knows someone went there to grab her last night with Cindy, and that you stopped them, Silas.”
And that I fucked his daughter in her shower after it was all said and done. “Let’s just hope he had nothing to do with the place being wired.”
Cole raps on the table with his knuckles. “Whatever goes down, we’ll be ready.” He gets up, gives us a mock salute, and leaves the room.
Now, all that’s missing is the facts. And proof to back it up. With these unknowns still on the table, all the preparation in the world won’t put us in a position of strength for this meeting with Rizzo. I mentally cringe because I can’t shake the feeling that Giovanni is involved somehow, especially because the Los Diablos VP confirmed the attack on the clubhouse was a hired job. If I don’t clear the air, everything can go south fast. And not just the meeting. The bulk of our business can disappear in no time.
Spinning my burner phone on the table, I prepare myself for two fucked-up, back-to-back conversations, jam-packed with posturing, reading between the line, and possible accusations non-stop.
No time like the fucking present.
Flipping it open, I hit the speed dial and turn on the speakerphone for Axe and Tate’s benefit.
“I was wondering when you’d call,” Mr. Giovanni answers. “It’s rather important that we have a conversation, Mr. Corrigan.”
“Yes. That’s why I phoned.”
“You have my fiancée. I’m keen to have her back here with me.”
My eyebrows shoot up. Axe, Tate and I share a knowing glance. Interesting. Giovanni knows, but he didn’t think to mention it when we spoke yesterday. He either found out from Padrino, or he knew all along and kept quiet about it because he’s behind the bugs at Sabrina’s place.
“All I did was help her out of a bind,” I explain with as few words as possible. “She’s safe.”
“I don’t play nice when someone steals from me,” he barks into my ear. “Do you understand?”
“We didn’t kidnap her, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
“Look, this is all one big misunderstanding—” I start, but as he’s probably talking about me banging his fiancée, I bring my voice down a notch and give him the floor so he can say whatever the fuck he needs to get off his chest.
“I don’t see it that way,” he tells me. “Neither does Rizzo. He’s our mutual friend, you see, and the way he looks at situations like these, well, let’s just say it’s very black and white. The point is you have what’s mine. Your next best move would be to give it back.”
“Hold on a second.”
“It’s simple, Corrigan. I have someplace to be, so bring her back here within twenty-four hours.”
“I don’t do well with ultimatums,” I tell him calmly.
“Well, you’d better start getting used to mine, or next time I’ll take out every last one of you. Don’t think I can’t pull together the resources to have a few pounds of C-4 strapped to a club member, instead of that minor light show outside your place the other night.”
The fucker’s admitting it now.
“You son of a bitch!” I’m mad as fuck now. “You have some fucking nerve, asshole.”
“Here’s a tip for you, Corrigan. Next time, don’t shit where you eat. Bring my fiancée when and where I tell you to, and I won’t retaliate any further. And remember that Satan's Saints isn’t the only gunrunning charter in the area. You aren’t crucial to my operation. No one is irreplaceable. Do you see where I’m going with this, or would you like me to demonstrate?”
“Do you really believe I’m so desperate for business that I’d keep working with you after you attacked us, motherfucker?”
The line goes dead and I fling the burner phone away, watching the pieces shatter against the wall.
I narrow my eyes at Tate as he spreads both palms out over the worn, scarred table. “You know me boss. I’m good either way. Whether you take her back to him or not. But you should know that I’m leaning toward showing up without Sabrina. We can take this Giovanni douchebag out for a half-day trip to the desert with a few shovels.”
Axe isn’t as lighthearted. “Shut the fuck up, Tate. This is serious.” He turns to me. “You can’t be ready to put the club at risk over a good piece of ass.”
“How about you leave that part to me? Actually, I’m kinda surprised you’re not all over this plan to face off with Padrino and Giovanni.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’ve been pushing for us to get out of the gunrunning business and go legit for ages. Maybe you’ll get what you want after all.” Standing, I push in my chair at the head of the table. “I need to have a talk with her. Work with Cole to start prepping everyone.”
“Will do. And I’ll call the lockdown.” Axe fiddles with his pocket knife. “Any other protocol you want us to observe while you’re…talking?”
“Yeah, make damn sure my mother stays out of my way. I don’t want to have to deal with her whining right now.”
“I’ve got that covered,” Tate chuckles. “She’s a sucker for my dick.”
My eyebrows raise nearly to my hairline, but I keep my comments to myself. Cindy’s a grown woman. If she wants to have casual hookups with a twisted son of a bitch like Tate, that’s her own damn choice. I just don’t need to know anything about it. Ever.
“Don’t fucking mention that again, or you and I are gonna have a problem.”
“You got it, boss man.”
Chapter 22
Sabrina
Something’s going on and no one’s talking. The clubhouse is humming with activity. Everyone’s either wearing a serious expression on their faces or are working with purpose. And it’s so much less rowdy than my first night here. The edgy tension has a life of its own around the place. I know that feeling intimately. It’s as though they’re bracing for something.
Then again, they were just attacked.
No one accepts my offer to help, so I use the time to relax in the guest bedroom. After all the action and lack of sleep in the last few days, I should be dead tired. It’d be great to get some rest and forget everything going on for a couple of hours. Except, I can’t relax. Closing my eyes only kicks my over-thinking into high gear.
For now, this most recent clubhouse stay consists of being put to hide out in a random room with minimal interaction with anyone except for a few minutes of conversation I had with Jenny about an hour ago. She’s still friendly, but a lot more closed off than before. My questions to her go unanswered, and are met with a physical reaction. She won’t maintain eye contact, backs away from me as though adding distance between us will help her stay strong as she makes conversation. I see right through it.
Maybe they’re all feeding off their President’s vibes. Or maybe he told them everything. I’m not thrilled with him at the moment, but then again, how would any two people act toward each other after angry, unprotected sex? Which was mind-blowing until we came crashing back down to reality and he resumed the silent treatment. We have no hope in hell of being together. Not with Silas working for my father. Not with the cloud of mistrust between us—mostly my fault.
I really should rest.
But part of me won’t let my guard down.
Being here is a disaster waiting to happen. The truth is that being embroiled in secrets, scheming, and violence is in my blood. It’s not much different for Silas. But here I am, holed up in a tower like a movie princess, waiting for my prince to get a wake-up call.
Fuck this.
I bolt upright and shove the covers off. Getting out of the bed, I leave the room. If I’m staying here, I may as well have a few drinks downstairs. I’m halfway through the door when I bump into a f
amiliar chest.
“We need to talk,” Silas announces in a gruff, raspy grumble, steamrolling me backward into the room and slamming the door behind us.
“We? Or are you planning to do all the talking like all the other times? I cross my arms over my stomach, eyes narrowed and ready for battle. “We can’t keep screwing each other’s brains out every time there’s a problem. It doesn’t solve anything.”
“Shouldn’t and can’t aren’t the same things, doll. Nothing about us should be happening. That doesn’t mean it won’t happen again.”
I hate that he’s right.
I might as well admit it.
“But you can spend all the time you want fantasizing about me deep inside you when you’re gone,” he says with a smirk.
“Wait, did you say ‘gone’? As in out of the clubhouse and walking on my own in daylight? That kind of ‘gone’?”
“More like tied to your mafia prince for the rest of your life. That kind of ‘gone’.”
He leans against the wall beside the door and runs a hand through his hair. Is it my imagination or does he look upset about me leaving? I wish I didn’t have to resort to reading body language instead of getting this man to speak his mind. But it’s useless. I’m the last person he’d open up to.
“Your fucked-up husband-to-be just threatened me and mine. He wants you back before the meeting with your father in two days. I don’t exactly want him making good on his threats. And this isn’t our fight. What that means is—”
“Great,” I huff. “I’m back to being chattel again. How lovely. Thanks for the heads-up.” I start walking to the door again. “As I’m here for a while, in a place where alcohol flows more freely that water, I’m gonna need a drink. Or a few.” I reach out for the door handle and Silas steps into my path. “What, this again? Really?”
“I’m not done, so don’t give me a hard time.”
“What else can I help you with?”
“I don’t need your help.”
“Okay. You’re still mad. I lied to you. You feel you can’t trust me.”
“That’s not true. The way I see it, trusting you now is probably the smartest thing I can do right now, to save my club members any more grief. You belong to people I do business with, and I have to trust them in order to do my job.”
“That’s interesting logic. Still, I don’t belong to anyone, Silas. I’m a person, not a thing.”
“Are you sure about that? Because today I find out you’re practically living in a cage in the condo unit next to the one belonging to the man you’re about to marry against your will. That sure sounds like you belong to him.”
“I don’t. It’s not like I wanted it this way!”
“Don’t freak out now. If you stop for a second, you’ll realize you’re getting bent out of shape because it’s true. And you hate it that much more now because the truth is, you want me to own you. And I already do, where it counts.”
“You own me?”
“Where it counts, yes.”
“And where’s that?”
He steps forward and ducks his head to my ear, tapping lightly on my temple. “In there,” he whispers. “Admit it. When you close your eyes and picture the life you really want, it’s me you see protecting you.” He lightly slides the back of his hand down my cheek and neck, across my shoulder, and down my arm. “And there, when you think about who you want touching you every fucking day.” His hand moves around my waist to my back, pulling me into his chest until I feel his hardness against my belly. “And here, when you imagine what it feels like for a real man to eat you up and swallow you whole. Face it, Sabrina. I. Fucking. Own. You.”
Those words leave me breathless and longing to agree with him, but I stop myself. He’s telling me this and still planning to turn me over to Lorenzo. I won’t let him use my vulnerability, even if everything he just said is true.
I shake his hand off me to stay clear-headed. “I’m no one’s plaything. I’m not a commodity for you men to collect and trade.”
“Don’t confuse what you and I have with whatever twisted game your fiancé wants to play.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“You’re a smart girl. Figure it out. I’m sure I’ll have a chance to remind you when you beg me to fuck you again, sweet cheeks It is what it is. Accept it.”
Jesus. As unnervingly arrogant as he is right now, it doesn’t stop my body’s reaction. My core tightens and my panties are drenched.
“Why are you here, Silas?” I breathe out, taking a shaky step back.
“Here.” He digs into his jeans pocket and pulls out my phone, holding it out towards me. “You can have this back. Kind of pointless to hold onto it when your people already know you’re here.”
“Thank you. Can I ask you something?”
“What?”
“Why do you work for him?”
“Giovanni? I got people to take care of.”
“I was talking about my dad.
“What are you getting at, Sabrina?”
“There are better ways to run an MC than working for my father.”
“Just stop right there,” he says, and storms toward the door. “Don’t say another word.”
Chapter 23
Sabrina
“No,” I shout after him and follow him into the hallway. “I won’t let you dismiss me after what I’ve had to put up with.”
He pivots around to face me and shoots me a withering look. “I’m not taking advice from someone so close to my bread and butter. Thanks for the offer, but no.”
“How are you so sure? What I have to say can turn out to be a godsend.”
“I don’t know what game you’re playing, Sabrina, but I’m out.”
“Are you hell bent on ignoring me just because I’m a woman?”
“Don’t fucking go there,” he warns me. “You’ve known me for less than two days and you already see me as a fucking pet project.”
“That’s not true. I—”
“Stop talking. I don’t need you to fix me or to tell me how to live my life.”
“Oh, that’s rich, coming from you!”
“Everything I did for you was to protect you. If you don’t believe that, it’s not my problem.”
He’s so stubborn I can scream. “You won’t listen to what I have to say?” I’m so frustrated, but it figures. We’re combustible in and out of the bedroom.
“Leave it alone, Sabrina.”
“I never asked you for your help on that elevator. You just charged in and did your thing. So why did you do that?”
“Don’t test me, woman. I did it and it’s done.”
“What was in it for you?”
A vein on his forehead pops up and begins to pulse. “Nothing.”
“And why am I here with you now?”
“I protect my investments.”
“I wasn’t your investment when you helped me on that elevator. You didn’t know who I was then. So why did you take time out of your precious life to help? Tell me why. Maybe you’ll figure out why I want to return the favor.”
The sound of footsteps coming up the stairs is the only thing that stops me from pushing the issue further. Cole stops at the top of the landing when he sees us in the hallway. “Let me guess. Trouble in gangster’s paradise? Or is this what you kids call ‘foreplay’ nowadays?”
“What the hell do you want?” Silas asks.
“You’re needed downstairs.” He points down the stairwell, and Silas heads down without another word to me.
“What?” I ask Cole. He’s just standing there studying me with an irritatingly sympathetic stare as he chews on the end of the cigar hanging out of his mouth.
“I’ll level with you, honey.”
“If anyone else around here gives me a piece of their mind I’m going to scream!” I tell him, and storm back into my room.
He follows me, stopping in the doorway before I can slam it shut. “I need you to listen because I’ll only say
this once. Got it?”
“Fine. Say whatever the hell you want, then leave me the hell alone.”
He points down the hallway. “There’s no future there. Everyone knows it. You’re too much of a good girl for him, even with your mobster family ties. And you can’t change him, so let that idea sink in for a minute. In fact, whatever you’re thinking, forget it. You’re engaged, and he’s as good as taken.”
“He’s with someone?”
I make a wild guess that it’s the wild-eyed she-bitch who jumped me in the hallway. But that couldn’t be right. Silas never mentioned it. Then again, why would he mention it? Especially now that he knows about Lorenzo. Trying to keep my face neutral, I walk over to the bed and take a seat.
“Do I have your attention now? Good. Silas belongs to no woman, but if he did, it wouldn’t be to you. He’s promised to someone else. Kind of like you and your mafioso in training fiancé.”
“But… who?”
“It’s not your concern, but for the sake of getting you off his back, I’ll fill you in. Cindy and his old man made a deal with the president of our Texas charter club. He and the guy’s daughter have had this…thing…” He holds out his left palm down to around hip height. “Since he was yea-high. Why do you think he won’t settle down? He’s already got someone on lockdown. Besides, I just called their charter to help us out if things go south with your dear old Padrino. So that complicates matters, doesn’t it? If I were you, I’d stay out of the way and leave Silas alone until we can ship you back home where you belong. Otherwise, you’ll be playing with the big girls, and they have claws. You won’t win.”
“Thanks for the warning,” I mutter, only half paying attention to the words coming out of my mouth because my brain’s working on overdrive. It makes perfect sense. Silas kept telling me there’s no chance for us, yet he’d contradict himself and go on like he owns me.
Not the other way around.
Because someone else has a claim on him.
A rush of nausea takes over my stomach, and I have to swallow hard to keep down the bitter bile rushing up to my throat. This arrogant bastard essentially turned me into one of those dime-a-dozen sack demons downstairs. God, I’m an idiot, blindly sleeping with this guy I know nothing about and assuming it meant something.
Outlaw (Satan's Saints MC) Page 12
