Never Have an Outlaw's Baby: Deadly Pistols MC Romance (Outlaw Love) (33 page)

Ugh. I really had, hadn't I? The realization made me sick. I wondered if I'd be charged with crimes myself for helping him, assuming I ever fled back to the normal world again. I tried to struggle up, but my whole stomach was knotting inside-out. My pathetic contribution to reuniting the Ivankovs joined with the trucks rough motion across what felt like a highway.

“That doesn't sound like you, Anton,” Daniel said. All their eyes were on me now, icy and unbearable. “You tie up your loose ends fast. What's going on here? You falling for this Ligiotti bitch or something?”

What? What did he just say?

Time almost stopped, along with my heartbeat. My eyelids fluttered and I watched an evil, knowing grin break out across Anton's face. He sat up from the bench where they'd flopped and stepped forward. I fought to scurry backwards.

My hand slipped, and I crashed down, almost banging my head on the rusty metal floor. It was his cue to flop down on top of me, hold me down, pour his hot breath across my throat.

I really struggled this time. I gave it everything I had, kicking and scratching, trying to bite his shoulder while my screams died against his thick skin through the open shirt.

“Shut the fuck up, babe. Can't have you bruising your sweet face on this shit before we've pumped it for information.”

I couldn't breathe. When I stopped thrashing, he finally let my head roll to the side.

“You knew!” I sputtered. “The...the whole fucking time...you knew who I was.”

Anton smiled, and his eyes narrowed, a confession in his droopy lids. “Yeah, I did. There was no mistaking a Ligiotti girl. Didn't have any doubt you were the finest piece of Italian mob ass I'd ever seen the second I walked in and saw you behind the glass.”

That set me off again. Anton sighed, his heavy chest shifting against me, holding me down. He grabbed my wrists and pinned me. Meanwhile, his wicked brothers laughed. Their harsh chuckles echoed in my ears.

“Let's be honest, your name's the reason you're here. I've turned down dozens of interviews before. Shit, I wouldn't have given you a fucking second of my time if you weren't a Ligiotti princess, Sabrina. I played dumb. You took the bait. I won.”

Bastard!
I thrashed against him and finally found a soft spot near his exposed shoulder. I bit him as hard as I could. I felt bone between my teeth, and then the iron sting of blood.

Anton grunted, laughed, and pushed himself against me. He shoved his shirt aside, giving me more space to bite him. My jaw went numb and relaxed at the insane reaction.

“Fuck yeah, baby. Suck it all out. I like this shit so rough it leaves permanent marks.” When he moved against my thigh, I felt how hard he was.

Jesus. He wasn't just screwing around. He was really getting off on my desperate struggle. Panic came down in an avalanche.

Nothing gets to this bastard, does it? Nothing!

Hot tears burned in my eyes. They spread through them, sizzled, turned my vision blurry. I stopped fighting.

“You done yet, babe?” He waited a few more seconds. “Okay. Good. Just lay back, Sabrina. Fucking relax. You keep doing what I say, and nobody gets hurt. Well, nobody except your asshole uncle.”

I shook my head, trying to comprehend how the hell I didn't see this coming. I was too selfish, too drunk, too focused on jump starting my career with that stupid blog. Now I'd screwed over my entire family.

For a second, I wondered if I'd been adopted. No one with Ligiotti blood should've been this stupid, this oblivious. This trusting.

God damn it.

“Shhhh,” Anton's coarse stubble scratched my cheek as he leaned to one ear. His voice was so loud with his lips against it, even when he was talking to me like a baby.

“You're gonna be okay. No bullshit. The worst is almost over.” Behind him, his brothers snickered again. “Just cooperate. We make a good team. Fuck, babe. You wanna sink those little teeth into me anytime, go ahead. You like the feeling us up close and personal just as much as I do, right?”

He rocked into me, shifting his hips from side to side, forcing my legs apart. I felt something hard and rough raging beneath his pants again. It sparked a savage fire below my waist.

“Yeah, you do,” he whispered. “Yeah, you fucking do.”

My pussy thrummed and swelled as he rocked, dry humping me between my black slacks and his jeans.

He knew. The bastard
knew
exactly how my body turned against me – and he loved it.

“Yeah, babe. Least your pussy's honest. Those pretty little lips can tell me a lot of lies, but your body doesn't. Shit, I can't wait 'til this ride's over. Can't wait to get you home. Cannot. Fucking. Wait.”

I braced for another earsplitting scream, lust and betrayal and terror steaming in my veins. I slapped my fists into his huge arm one time, but it was like pounding a padded wall. My arms went numb, alternating between punching him and the truck's steel floor.

Soon, my energy was all gone. I collapsed.

Everything went dark. My brain shut down.

I had to save my strength. Wait for a moment when I stood a chance against him, when a well timed bite or scratch would do something. Maybe when I could get something in my hands a lot more powerful than unprotected knuckles.

He could take my body the same way he'd busted out of prison. No doubting that. But if I had anything to say about it – any last shred of Ligiotti strength and cunning – I'd never surrender willingly to his ruthless strength.

Bide your time. Wait. Just like he did. Then when he least suspects it, strike out. Hit him until he stops breathing. Bash his brains out until he can't even think about making more of those harsh, filthy threats.

If it wasn't for his masculine taste still tingling on my numb lips, taunting me, I would've smiled.

A
t some point
during the ride, I really blacked out. Maybe I fell asleep or went comatose or something. I didn't understand what was happening to me anymore.

Twenty two years of crime and sin concealed me from the same fate as my forefathers. I never had to face their agonies, their risks, their consequences until today.

I expected to wake up in a dungeon. When I opened my eyes, I was in a room, dim lit with what looked like candlelight. Silky sheets clung to my legs. I felt...cleaner somehow.

Jerking up, I threw the sheets off. I'd been stripped, washed, and thrown into a nightgown. Nothing except the bra and panties I had on were familiar.

It was a huge canopy bed, like something you see in movies depicting Victorian times. I could barely make out anything behind the burgundy curtains, but someone was moving in the silence. I drew up against the headboard, tightening my jaw, pressing my hands together.

Please don't let it be Anton. Please, please, please...

The curtain ripped open below my feet. My prayers fell to pieces. He pushed his way through the gap and grinned, wearing nothing but a set of dark trousers that fit him better than what he'd stolen from the warden.

“I was wondering if you'd wake up tonight.” He smirked, looked down, and lifted the glowing tablet in his hand. “Beast of a bomber, huh? A devil in a dingy prison, out of sight, but never out of mind. He's no less sinister today than the night he murdered twenty powerful men in cold blood.”

Anton stopped. My head spun. I realized he was quoting my article, and I tried to reach for the iThingie in his hand. He jerked it away from me.

“Did you write that shit, or did your editor?”

I swallowed a thick lump. “He may have embellished. Only a little.”

Anton snorted. “Good answer. You keep being a good girl, and maybe you'll get a chance to read this shit sometime yourself. But not today.”

He pulled the curtain open at his side and tossed it to the floor, carelessly, as if it was nothing but a cheap magazine. I folded my arms, feeling new adrenaline pulse through my veins. The light did evil things to him, made him look far sexier than he had any business being just then.

He'd taken me, forced me to break the law, pulled me into a world I'd tried so hard to avoid. Damn it! I had a hundred reasons to hate him, but my eyes disagreed with my heart. They only saw a beautiful, damaged, heavily tattooed angel with a scar glowing on his cheek, dark as the ink going up his arms and meeting in the firebird on his chest.

“What the fuck do you want from me?” I wasn't sure why I asked the question.

His hungry eyes already held the answer. They looked me up and down, following my curves, burning my contours into his screwed up brain.

He wanted to fuck me, use me for his pleasure, and then use me again to get at my uncle. I was his secret weapon in a war that started before I was old enough to realize what it was all about.

“Your cooperation,” he said. “Same fucking thing I told you I wanted in the truck. Believe it or not, part of me wishes it didn't have to come down like this, Sabrina. I would've fucking loved wining and dining you in another life – one where wasted family blood doesn't make vengeance my only obsession.”

His tongue quickly flicked across his lips. Just then, I didn't believe fulfilling an old vendetta was the only fixation on his mind. He stepped closer, putting his knee on the edge of the bed, closing the distance between us.

There was nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. I didn't give a crap about finding out what was behind the curtain – probably some luxurious room with locks on every door. He'd broken out of prison, for Christ's sake. No way would he screw up something so simple when he had an enemy in his bed – if it was his bed – and his brothers wanted me for more than just satisfying Anton's dick.

My eyes darted to his crotch. There was a noticeable bulge, bigger and meaner than anything I'd seen in my nightmares. Those stupid fantasies felt like they were in another lifetime, now that I had the real thing staring at me in the shadows.

“My beef's with your uncle and his crew, babe. Not with you. You know that, right?” The bed sank beneath his weight, and he crawled towards me, running a confident hand through my hair.

My head snapped away from him. I watched his smug smile melt out of the corner of my eye.

“I don't know
anything
when it comes to you. I don't want to, really, unless it has to do with when you're going to set me free.”

I met his blue gaze. His eyes rippled, fiery and intense, longing and frustrated. Two small oceans of contrasts.

“You gotta give this a chance. You work with me, you can have it all. My brothers and I are gonna put your asshole Uncle outta business, whether you sign off on it or not. I'm giving you a chance – one fucking chance – to minimize the damage we've gotta do on the way to the prize. Come the fuck
on,
babe. Work with me.”

“I'm not your babe!” I sat up, taking a swat at his huge arm. “You know what? We already know which way this is going to go. You're going to take me, use me, and probably end up killing me when I don't go along with any of it. Fuck it. Here. Let's get it over with.”

My last shred of sanity snapped. He couldn't invade me if I gave myself up willingly, taking away his pleasure, his conquest. Anton looked at me like I'd sprouted a second head as I slid my legs off the bed, stood, and stopped.

I fingered the straps to the gown on my shoulders, letting it fall. His blue eyes widened when he saw me almost naked, instantly drawn to my hard nipples beneath the bra.

“Take it. Lay me down and rip me apart. I won't fight it. I'll lay there like a rock. You'll fuck me. I'll hate it. I won't even acknowledge you're in me.” I sniffed. “I'll be too busy thinking about how I'm going to get out of this, and let Uncle Gioulio know what you did so he tracks you all down and puts a bullet in every one of you.”

Anger rippled through his muscles. For a second, I thought he'd pounced, maybe do something a lot worse than shove his hips between my legs. He got up slowly, rounding the bed, taking patient steps.

When he was only a couple feet away, he laughed. I fumed. Once again, I'd completely misjudged how fucking dark and evil the depths of this man's brain went.

“That's cute, babe. You think you've got a choice. You think you'll be able to keep it together when I'm fucking your goddamned brains out your ears.” He paused, shook his head. “You think this is a fucking game, don't you?”

I didn't answer. I was steeling myself for the inevitable, trying not to shake while my heart pumped scalding fire through my veins. We locked eyes, and I tried to tell myself I wasn't afraid, that I was ready to have him pressing me into the bed, fucking me like a depraved animal. I told myself I wouldn't feel anything except hate.

But I knew it was a lie. The wet cream pooling between my legs just wouldn't stop coming. He turned my panties to mush without laying a finger on me. If I wanted to be brutally honest, the pleasure of him rubbing up against me on the ride in was just as responsible for the blackout as the exhaustion buzzing in my body.

Maybe plunging headfirst into this sick fantasy would finally get it out of my system. Maybe if I told enough lies to myself enough times, I'd believe them.

Anton glowered. He darted forward without warning, grabbing both my wrists, throwing me down on the mattress as he bent, pushing my body with his.

Determination wasn't worth a damned thing when he was on top of me. I kicked, I thrashed, I screamed, just like in the prison and the truck. He held me down, rubbing his rough body over mine. The power packed in his muscles was inevitable.

He reached down with one hand, squeezed my thigh, pushed the gown up above my belly. “Let's get one thing straight, Sabrina. This shit's no joke. I laugh about it, sure, laugh at your fiery ignorance. But there's nothing fucking funny here. Nothing at all. You think you can challenge me? Control me? You think you've got a single shred of fucking leverage here at all?”

He squeezed my inner thigh.
Holy shit!

Desire pierced through my explosive rage. My blood, my skin, my eyes burned hot. I hated him and needed him at the same time, split down the middle by the violent storms turning my blood molten.