Never Have an Outlaw's Baby: Deadly Pistols MC Romance (Outlaw Love) (32 page)

I
survived the week
. Lots of drinks at home, bad TV, and then some sobering up with good Thai takeout. I got up early Wednesday, ate breakfast at a good greasy spoon place a few blocks down the street, and told myself I'd kick this interview's ass.

I'd kick it so hard Anton would stop invading my dreams. I'd leave my bad boy fantasies to action shows and romance novels, maybe invest in a
really
big dildo until I was ready to hit the dating scene again. I'd heard those vibrating wands could do wicked things.

The prison was strangely quiet when I arrived. The prisoners tucked back in their cell blocks barely raised their eyes as I passed, too wrapped up in something heavy hanging in the atmosphere, like the charge before a storm. Charlie seemed more solemn than usual as he led me into the visiting room. I noticed a small dent in the glass about half a foot above my head.

“Hey, what happened there?” I asked, pointing. “Don't tell me that's from him last time?”

The graying warden smiled and shook his head. “Nah. Don't worry. Another guy named Rasch went ballistic a couple days ago. His brother told him his wife was screwing around on the outside. He snuck in a hammer, started beating on the glass. Bastard took a few swings at my guys' heads before we managed to get it away.”

I swallowed hard. “It's still safe? Even with this damage?”

“Safe as can be,” Charlie said with a wink. “This glass is designed to hold back a raging bull, Sabrina. Hey, I can post a couple extra guys outside the door if you're worried he's going to try something.”

“No. That won't be necessary.” I hoped to God it wouldn't.

Charlie shrugged and disappeared, locking the door behind him, standard procedure. One more layer of security I should've felt good about – except if something blew through the glass and the guards couldn't get to me in time, I'd be stranded here with him.

I waited, waited, and then waited some more. What was the holdup?

Footsteps thundered outside the door, and I caught a glimpse of something long and black moving through the hall. My heartbeat spiked. I stood, walked over, and pressed my face to the glass.

The faint buzz I thought was just in my head was actually an alarm blasting in the hallway, muted by the thick door. Orange and black blurs mingled like tornadoes, prisoners grappling with guards in uniforms. Some wore thick armor, the heavy black stuff I'd seen blurring by the first time. Riot gear.

Holy shit.
I remembered the way the prisoners looked like they were sitting on a dynamite charge and my blood ran cold.

I was about to freeze up and let panic set in when there was a loud bang behind the glass. The door on the other side opened, and Anton stepped in, a knowing smile on his face. He was still in chains, but his fists were bloodied.

Oh, God. Oh, no. This can't be –

Can't be what? Happening? It sure as hell was.

He'd dropped Charlie's limp frame behind him on the way in. I didn't know if the warden was alive or dead, but his face was really red, like he'd had all the blood shuttled to his head and then abruptly cut off there.

Anton's heavy footsteps were slow at first. He waited until I was fully in his sights before he lunged, slamming more than two hundred pounds of pure muscle against the glass. He went right for the weak spot.

His wrist cuffs smashed the dented glass again and again, a thud like lightning striking a sheet of ice. I stood there watching dumbly, my heart throbbing in my throat. Eight deafening whacks and the entire sheet splintered, caving in the same way as a shattered windshield.

The entire wall separating us came down. He punched out the last few pieces and climbed over the table, slightly clumsy because the chains bound his wrists together.

I fumbled with the tape recorder in my pocket – all I really had to throw at him. It fell, smashed into a couple of pieces on the hard floor. I hit the ground after it, throwing my arm over my head, shaking.

He took a good look and laughed. “I thought I said no fucking tape recorders?”

“Please don't hurt me!”

“Babe, I wouldn't dream of it. But you're gonna help both our asses out right now by climbing over the glass and getting the warden's keys outta his pocket.” He waited, tapped his big foot near my face for about five seconds. “I mean
now.
Get the fuck up!”

I didn't comply. I was too numb.

This wasn't happening. But it was, and all the grim denial in the world wouldn't change it.

My worst fears had exploded too abruptly to process. I was really, truly in the middle of a prison break. No, worse. The man who'd stirred
so much
emotional shit in my screwed up brain was asking me to aid and abet his escape.

“Shit. Looks like I'm gonna have to drag you kicking and screaming. Good thing I like it rough.”

I looked up just in time for him to stick his bloody fingers in my hair and pull. Hard. I stumbled up on my feet, fighting him, screaming like a lunatic.

Soon as I was standing, he slammed me into the wall. Anton's enormous bulk was so much heavier than anything in my depraved fantasies. I couldn't have escaped it if I tried. He pressed hard, flattening my breasts with his immense chest, somehow forcing my wrists up above my head.

“I told you I don't even wanna think about hurting you, babe. But I'm not promising shit if you don't do what I say. Right fucking now.” His breath was hot on my face, his baby blue eyes burning like gas furnaces. “This isn't a goddamned game. I let you lead last time, but I'm the one calling the shots today. I'm in control. Every step you take begins and ends with me telling you where. I fucking own you now, Sabrina. Judge, jury, and executioner of how you're gonna spend your next days on earth. Is that crystal fucking clear?”

He rocked his whole body against mine. A harsh smile pulled at his lips. It must've been hard for him to force it down.

Damn it, the numbness in my nerves tingled sharper with him pressed close like this, sexy and dangerous as hell. My body betrayed me. He must've felt how hard my nipples were beneath the sweater and flimsy bra I'd chosen. All the modest clothing in the world couldn't hide how my flesh and brain and soul were mutinying against me, offering me up to this monster.

He swirled, still holding my wrists in one hand, his chain clacking near my ear. We both turned, and he marched me to the table, flattening me on the big desk previously separated by the busted safety glass.

“Climb the fuck over it, and go see Charlie.” Something heavy hit the door next to us, and a man's muffled scream came through the wall. “Hurry the fuck up!”

There was a certain peace in my surrender. My brain found its survival setting through the lust and terror obliterating the last few shreds of resistance and common sense I had left. I carefully climbed over the destroyed break in the rooms, listening as he followed me through the gap, and then walked over to Charlie.

He was warm when I touched him. There was a tiny bit of relief when I felt him breathing. Whoever Anton had beaten to a pulp with his monstrous fists, it wasn't this man. Charlie would live with nothing worse than a cold blow to the head and a few scrapes.

“They're on his belt. All that shit's there, fixed to the same chain.”

It all happened like a sickening, fragmented nightmare. My hands moved on auto-pilot, unclasping the guard's keys, finding the one Anton demanded, and unlocking his cuffs when he held them toward me.

Then he pushed me aside and dropped to the guard's limp body. I watched as he started undressing him, wondering what the fuck he was doing. I didn't completely shake off the stupor until Anton stood, and immediately began tearing off his bright orange jumpsuit.

He was naked except for the tight boxers clinging to his strong ass. The ink covered him more fully than anything I'd imagined, lining his entire body, sharp edges and furious phrases written in English, Latin, and what looked like blocky Russian Cyrillic.

He rolled the pants on before he started on Charlie's shirt. He turned, and I caught a flash of a huge predator bird on his chest. Maybe an eagle or a hawk, or else something more mythical. A phoenix wouldn't have been out of place if he actually pulled this off. His blue eyes flashed, and he gave me a grin, casual as if this whole thing were just filming a movie.

“What the fuck's the matter? You look like you've never seen a dude naked before. You always stare at guys who order you around like this, or is it just because I've got the biggest dick you've ever seen?” He reached for his crotch and squeezed.

Gross! Or, rather, it should've been, if only he didn't look like an Adonis who somehow used his sick confidence to look even more handsome. Infuriating was more like it.

I swallowed, fighting the tears. Bastard. How dare he.

How fucking dare he. How
dare
he accuse me of anything, remind me of this grotesque attraction, as if he hadn't already ripped my whole world apart by the throat.

He grunted, trying to do the buttons. The shirt was way too small. To my surprise, he shrugged, leaving it open and tearing the keys out of my limp hands.

“Come on. This shit'll do the job I expect, doesn't have to be perfect. We gotta move fucking fast. You follow me. Stay close. It's your only way outta here in one piece. One wrong move is all it takes to get hurt – and I'm not talking about me laying the pain on. There's a full fucking prison riot going on outside. You step outta line, you'll find out how fast it takes to find some fuck's knife in your leg or an elbow flying for your nose.” He reached out, still wearing his trademark smile. “Shadow me, Sabrina, and you'll never have to worry about that pretty face getting broke. I won't let anybody else near it.”

He walked behind me, pulling me close, protecting me from all my vulnerable sides. I moved with him dumbly, stopping as he unlocked the door leading into the corridor.

Hell waited for us.

Smoke burned my nostrils as soon as we were out. Half the sparse cells lining the little walkway to the visitors' room were open, empty. We went through another door, and then a split in the hall, leading me towards some place I'd never been in the prison.

The long delayed thoughts I had about escape were shattered the instant something heavy slammed into my side, tearing me from his grasp. It knocked me all the way to the wall.

“Anton!” I screamed his name, landed with an
oomph!
and felt fire racing up my shoulder.

“Stay the fuck off her!” Anton roared, slapping the fat prisoner who'd crashed into me.

I watched him force the round man against the opposite wall head first. There was a sickening crack as his head connected with the brick. He fell on the ground, gurgling, jerking one more time when Anton brought his foot into the man's ribs.

One good stomp was all he needed. He looked down, satisfied, and then he was reaching for me again.

Rough hands tugged around me, tighter than before. “Come on! Keep moving. We're almost there.”

He said it with a weird tender quirk in his voice. Like he was guiding along a scared puppy. Fitting, I guess, because I was terrified out of my skin, and just as obedient too.

It wasn't Anton threatening ruin anymore. I did it to myself by being too scared to fall out of line. I followed him without skipping a step, into the cool October air that hit me in the face as we swirled outside.

It was some kind of loading dock. The prison brawl hadn't spilled over out here, and it was eerily quiet except for a loud semi rumbling a few feet away. Anton dragged me towards it, stopping at the closed backside.

He banged on it with his fists. “Open up, you bastards! We're here. Red Eagle. Red fucking Eagle!”

The door swung open. Anton spun me around, swung both hands around my waist, and leaped into the truck backwards. His huge body shielded me from the blow when we landed on hard metal.

A man near the door yanked it shut, and the loud rumble in the empty trailer doubled. I rolled in his arms, realized we were moving. Probably picking up speed pretty fast if the loud squeal of the metal underneath the engine's growl was any indication.

Suddenly, Anton's iron grip broke. He let go, stood, gaining his balance as the truck shook. I watched him walk over to the two big men crouching by the trailer's door. The other two stood, and all three men huddled in a big, manly embrace.

“
Skol'ko let, skol'ko zim!
” One of them said.

“Fuck you, Lev. It's been too many years and too many seasons. I never thought I'd get outta that fucking place.” Joy rumbled in Anton's throat as he growled.

Another man lifted his head, and it was almost as big and powerful as Anton's. “Three hundred and ninety days. That's how much time you did in there, you magnificent bastard.”

Their faces were similar, minus Anton's scar on the cheek. He laughed, ruffled the man's longer, wavier hair. “Leave it to you to track every fucking second, Daniel. Fucking brainiac. You timed that shit with Rasch perfectly. Can't believe they didn't notice how bad he fucked up the glass with that hammer you smuggled in.”

Daniel smiled. “Him and his brother are great actors. Good smugglers too. There'll be something extra in their checks once the cops' heat is off them.”

Crap. I realized I was staring at all three Ivankov brothers. If there was anything more imposing than Anton's flaming blue eyes and skull crushing muscles, it was having three sets of them just feet away, three big men who looked like they could bring the entire world down to their knees.

“Lev made me. I think he missed you more than I did,” Daniel said with a smile.

The third man stood up out of the huddle, even beefier and slightly shorter than the other two. He was top heavy like a bulldog, slabs of muscle rippling above the waist, unlike Anton's which was oh-so-evenly-distributed. His hair was darker too – short and almost black. He looked at me with the same bright eyes.

“What's the plan for the
devotchka?
She gonna keep her little mouth shut, or will we have to make her?”

Anton gave his brother a shove, rougher than it was playful. “Fuck you, man. We don't need to hash this out in front of her. She helped me outta the slammer. Calmer and more cooperative than I expected.”